by Janey Fraser
‘Thanks for the reminder.’ He moved over to the edge of the bed and, too late, Jilly realised she’d struck a nerve which had been best left untouched.
‘I’m sorry.’ She reached her hand out towards him in the dark. ‘I know you’re doing your best. But can’t you see I’m trying to do the same?’
‘Yes but you shouldn’t have to. It’s my responsibility.’
‘That’s so old-fashioned …’
‘Look, I don’t want to talk about it any more. Goodnight.’
As Jilly tossed and turned all night, Fatima’s words kept coming back to her. Your man is not good husband to you.
That wasn’t true, of course. David was suffering from low self-esteem. The old David would never have said those things. But maybe she’d changed too. Running her own business had given her a confidence she’d never had before.
It wasn’t just earning money. It was the surprising discovery that she enjoyed working. Loved making decisions that had nothing to do with school uniform or homework. Finding her own self-worth.
There was no way she was giving all that up! Eventually, when the neon light on the bedside alarm clock reached 2.07 a.m., Jilly turned over, with her back to David. Maybe it was time to make some tough decisions.
The following day, she made a huge effort to get the twins to school on time. But just as she was rounding them up and hunting for a piece of missing maths homework, her phone bleeped. It was Marie-France. Hve been sacked. Pls ring.
What? ‘Hang on, kids,’ she called out. ‘I’ve just got to make a phone call. Get into the car and I’ll be there in a sec.’
Hastily she returned Marie-France’s call. ‘It’s me, Jilly. What’s happened?’
Stunned, she listened to the girl’s account.
‘I do not have affair with Phillip,’ she ended. ‘But Dawn does not believe me. He is just friendly.’
Just friendly! She’d heard that before from her own father enough times when overhearing arguments between her parents. It was clear that Phillip’s behaviour – she’d always found the man very smarmy on the few occasions they’d met! – had exceeded the boundaries and now Marie-France was paying the price.
‘I will have to talk to Dawn,’ she began. ‘Then if you like, I’ll find you another family. There are lots of people on my books who would be glad to have someone like you.’
Even as she spoke, she realised that might not be true. A new family would ask what had gone wrong with the old and there wouldn’t be many women keen to take on a girl who had been accused of ‘making a play’ for the previous host husband.
‘Thank you.’ The girl ended the call sounding slightly brighter but now Jilly had to ring Dawn. The kids would just have to wait in the car for a few more moments.
‘Dawn?’ she began but before she could go any further, the woman began to yell in such a shrill, hostile way that Jilly had to hold the handset away from her ear. ‘Absolutely disgusting … Mary-France has the hots for my husband … Want her out of the house … Are you kidding? Of course I won’t give her a reference …’
All of a sudden, she found herself putting on her mother’s voice. ‘Actually, Dawn, I’m afraid I disagree. I have grounds to believe that your husband stepped out of line here. He has been rather “friendly”, shall we say, towards a young girl who is meant to be living as part of your family instead of acting as an unpaid cook. In our agreement, we clearly state that girls should eat with the family wherever possible but Marie-France has been treated like a servant. So you might care to give her a good reference unless you wish me to take this further. I would like it emailed to me by lunchtime. Goodbye.’
There was the sound of clapping from behind her. Mum had been listening in! Just like she used to eavesdrop on her calls as a teenager.
‘Well done, dear. I couldn’t help overhearing. You are learning, aren’t you? Goodness, what’s that dreadful noise from your car?’
They both rushed to the window. ‘Great,’ said Jilly weakly, ‘they’ve turned the radio up to maximum.’
‘You go,’ said her mother, ‘and I’ll get on with the accounts together with Fatima. I’ve discovered that she’s awfully good at figures, apart from her own. Now off you go and don’t worry about our agency. I’ll soon have it licked into shape.’
But it’s my agency, Mum, she started to say. Too late. Mum was already on the phone and she had to get the boys to school.
‘Mum,’ said Harry nonchalantly as they were halfway there, ‘I’ve left my PE kit behind.’
Shit. ‘I’m not going back now.’
‘But you’ve got to—’
‘There isn’t time—’
‘Will you shut up, both of you,’ said Nick wearily from the front seat. ‘Fatima put your stuff in the boot. I saw her.’
Jilly should have been grateful. But it was one more signpost. Maybe she was more like her mother than she realised. More interested in doing her own thing than being a parent.
After dropping off the boys, together with the spotless PE kit that was indeed in the boot, she noticed a little red Mini in the car park that looked familiar. Of course! That had been poor Sally’s and there was her nice husband Matthew to whom she’d been talking the other day.
‘Hi.’ She took in his baggy eyes and shirt that needed ironing. ‘How are you doing?’
He shrugged. ‘Still trying to work and be there at the end of the school day for Lottie.’
It was then that a big bell went off in her head. ‘Actually, if you’re desperate, I do happen to have a girl who is looking for work. I was going to offer her to the family at the top of my list, so can we keep this to ourselves? She’s French. Very sensible and brilliant with children in my opinion but she’s had a bit of a rough ride with another mother.’ She glanced around in case Paula was hovering. ‘A rather demanding one. You could call it a clash of personalities.’
He laughed shortly. ‘That’s very kind but I wouldn’t subject an au pair to my daughter. She’d run her out of the house.’ He sighed. ‘Lottie wants me to be at home with her all the time but it’s not possible at the moment.’
The poor man stopped as though he felt he’d said too much.
‘Everything’s possible with my agency!’ Jilly found herself sounding like her mother again with that upbeat I-can-sort-you-out tone. ‘We pride ourselves on a personal touch. Besides, Marie-France is very feisty so I’m sure she’ll cope with your Lottie. You might have read about her in the newspapers. Her family was buggered – I mean burgled – and she was brilliant at keeping the kids calm. Why don’t you try her out?’
Matthew hesitated. ‘May I think about it?’
Jilly shook her head. ‘Of course. But you’d be doing me a huge favour. I want Marie-France to go to a good home and I think she might be just the girl for you.’
It was almost like running an adoption agency! Still, one down and one to go. Going back to the car, she switched on her mobile. This was one call she needed to make in secret, outside the house. A deserted school car park was the perfect location.
‘Dad? It’s me, Jilly. Can you talk? Good. Now what on earth is going on with you and Mum?’
JILLY’S AU PAIR AGENCY: GUIDELINES FOR FAMILIES
It is natural for au pairs to develop close bonds with the children in their care. Sometimes parents can feel jealous of this.
Chapter 23
MARIE-FRANCE STILL FELT a hot flush of anger at the memory of Dawn virtually dragging her out of Phillip’s car after that terrible night out with Antoinette.
‘Slut,’ Dawn had hissed. ‘How dare you try and make out with my husband?’
‘I am not,’ she had protested. ‘Get off me. You’re pulling my hair.’
‘I do not care.’ Dawn had pushed her into the hall. ‘I want you out of my house tomorrow morning. Do you understand? And no, don’t try and explain. I saw enough with my own eyes.’
She turned to Phillip, who was shaking his head as though Dawn was an angry child. ‘As for you
, I want a word. Upstairs.’
Marie-France had spent that night in her bedroom, packing and panicking; her usual resolve having deserted her. Where would she go? When she spoke to Jilly the next day, it was plain that it might not be easy to find another family, despite her kind words. Who would want a girl who’d been caught kissing another woman’s husband?
This was exactly what had happened to her poor mother! And this was why she had to find her father. To make him pay. Not with money – that wouldn’t do anything. But to make him realise how much damage he had caused by not facing up to his obligations all those years ago.
‘Please don’t go,’ Tom had whined, screwing up his little podgy face. ‘I’ll really miss our guitar lessons.’
Who would have thought, a few weeks ago, that Tom could change so much? He was more interested in the guitar now than his computer or televisions. All he had needed was someone to give him some time.
‘I will miss you too,’ she said, hugging him. ‘But you must ask your mother to find you another guitar teacher. You are very good at it.’
‘I don’t want you to leave either,’ whispered little Tatty Arna. ‘It was boring before you came. And you promised to put my hair in a chignon.’
‘Then I shall do that before I leave today.’ Marie-France took her hairbrush out and started to smooth Tatty Arna’s long tresses. ‘Regarde! This is how it is done.’
In the end, Dawn did not throw her out that very day, partly because they had a dinner party that night and Cook had called in sick. ‘You can stay on for a few more days,’ her boss had announced coolly after breakfast as though she was doing her a favour. ‘Meanwhile, I want you to make your apricot lamb dish for dinner tonight. We will be having eight to dinner. And tomorrow, if Cook is still ill, you can do your seafood linguini. We will be twenty then.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘But on no account are you to talk to my husband!’
Marie-France shot her a cold stare. ‘I do not feel like cooking.’
Dawn’s face tightened. ‘What did you say?’
‘I do not cook for a woman who calls me a liar.’
Dawn’s eyes were round with disbelief. Luckily, by this stage the children had left the table. That had been another of her small triumphs. When she’d first arrived, they’d munched toast in front of the telly. Now she had managed to get them to sit up, if only for a few minutes.
‘How dare you talk to me like that! My husband has told me everything. He said that you rang him and begged him to pick you up and that he feared for your safety. So out of the goodness of his heart, he collected you. He also said that you tried to kiss him in the car.’
‘The first part is true but not the second.’ Marie-France’s eyes flashed. ‘We are not having an affair. It is you – with your bald-headed friend. No. Do not deny it. I have seen you. As for your dinner party, you can stuff yourself.’
Marie-France wasn’t entirely sure what this meant but she had heard Tom saying it enough times so it must be rude. The effect on Dawn was impressive. Like most bullies, she caved in at the first sign of opposition. ‘But I can’t cook.’
‘Then order in pizza!’
Marie-France spent the rest of the weekend in her room, trawling through various Find-a-Person websites. If only John Smith was not such a common name! Last week, she had tried to ring her mother to ask once more if she could remember anything else about him. Just a small detail might help! But her mobile had been switched off. So she’d called Maurice, who had explained her mother had been sent on a training course.
In fact, Maman had been strangely elusive for some weeks now! Every time she’d called her mobile, she was either ‘unable to talk’ or it went straight through to answerphone. If it wasn’t for Maurice, who had explained her mother was very busy at work, she would have been worried.
Instead, she felt hurt. Clearly her mother wasn’t missing her that much! Marie-France thought back guiltily to all the teenage arguments they’d had over the years. Maybe her mother was enjoying the peace and getting on with her own life now. It wasn’t a very nice thought.
Today, however, Maurice had told her, her mother would definitely be in. Even though Marie-France still felt hurt, she couldn’t wait to hear her mother’s voice. Ah, yes! It was answering now. ‘Maman? It is me.’
‘Chérie.’ Her mother’s voice was sleepy as though she had just woken up. Of course! It was Sunday, wasn’t it. The sun would be streaming in through her blue and yellow chintz bedroom curtains and Maman would be lying, no doubt, in Maurice’s arms. There would be the smell of proper coffee floating up the stairs and the church bells would be ringing. Marie-France ached with homesickness.
‘How are you, Maman?’
‘Très bien, ma chérie. Et toi?’
‘OK. It’s been ages since we spoke.’ She laughed, trying to make a joke of it. ‘You haven’t forgotten me, have you?’
‘Ma chère, I could never do that.’ Her mother sounded as though she had a heavy cold. ‘You mean the world to me. I have just been busy at work, that is all.’
‘You do sound run down. Take it easy, won’t you? Listen, I was wondering: is there anything else about my father that you can recall? John Smith. It is such a common name.’
There was a sigh. ‘Please do not do this, chérie. It is too difficult to find him now.’
‘Are you sure you don’t remember the address?’
There was a sigh. ‘It was so long ago, ma fille. I cannot recall.’
Marie-France silently groaned with frustration. She was so near to her father and yet so far. ‘Is there anything else about him that you can remember? Anything at all!’
Her mother’s voice grew dreamy. ‘He was musical, like you. He could play the guitar so that my very heart felt as though it was going to fly away. And he would sneeze. Big sneezes.’ She giggled. ‘It was very embarrassing sometimes.’
‘Sneeze?’
‘Yes. He suffered from allergies like you. So inconvenient.’
There was the sound of a man’s voice in the background. Marie-France had been right when she had pictured her mother in bed with Maurice. ‘I need to go, ma chérie. You are happy, yes?’
‘Very happy, thank you, Maman.’ She hesitated. ‘Have you heard from Thierry?’
‘Non. But he is not back. Maybe he is still travelling. Do not worry. You will find someone else. A more educated man. With cleaner hands. You meet someone in Angleterre yet? Non? That is a pity. Au revoir, ma chérie.’
Marie-France put the phone down feeling distinctly unsettled. Find someone else? She’d been convinced that Thierry would get in touch but there had been nothing. Maybe he really had gone for good this time. ‘You are too young to be tied down,’ she told herself sternly. But somehow that didn’t ease the ache in her heart.
Then, that evening when she was getting the children’s bags ready for school the next day, Jilly rang. ‘I have found you a lovely family,’ she had said excitedly. ‘Not far from where you are now.’
‘In Corrywood?’ Marie-France’s heart leaped.
‘Yes. It is a father with a small daughter. But there is only one problem. His daughter does not really want anyone else to look after her. Her mother died nearly a year ago and her father has been at home, caring for her. Now he has gone back to work but she keeps driving away the au pairs.’
Marie-France nodded. ‘I have heard through my school. The little girl, she is called Lottie, yes?’
‘That’s right.’ There was a slight pause at the other end. ‘There’s one more thing too. You may find it a bit awkward living with a single man. People might talk and I am sure you don’t want another situation like before.’
‘This is not my fault.’ Marie-France felt indignant. ‘Dawn, she tells lies!’
‘I’m just saying that you need to be aware of the circumstances. It wouldn’t be a good idea, for instance, to walk around in a dressing gown.’
‘I do not do so!’ This was not fair! Jilly was sounding much tougher than usual. Did she c
onsider her partly responsible for what happened with Phillip?
‘You could start tomorrow if you like, in the evening.’
‘Yes. That is good. Thank you.’
The next day, she bid a cold adieu to Dawn and hugged the children goodbye. How she would miss them – even little Tom! Phillip was nowhere to be seen. It hurt to go without saying goodbye …
Meanwhile, Jilly had kindly agreed to pick her up and drop her at the new family. ‘You will like Matthew,’ she said as they made the short drive to the other side of town. ‘He’s still suffering, poor man, from his wife’s death. Mind you, their house isn’t nearly as grand as Dawn’s.’
‘I do not care.’ Marie-France was looking out of the window, watching the houses become smaller. ‘I just require somewhere to stay where people do not accuse me of lying.’
Jilly gave her a funny look. ‘Please don’t misunderstand me, Marie-France. I have no reason to doubt you when you said that nothing happened between you and Phillip. But you are an attractive girl. Some men might be tempted to get the wrong end of the stick and Matthew … well, he’s a widower. Probably vulnerable.’
‘Wrong end of the stick? Is Meester Evans a violent man?’
‘No.’ Jilly looked horrified. ‘It means getting the wrong idea.’
Marie-France frowned. ‘I do not understand.’ She drew herself up. ‘But I do know that I am a good girl.’
‘I’m sure you are.’ Jilly stopped outside a modest terraced house which didn’t even have its own driveway. She smiled at Marie-France reassuringly. ‘That’s why I’ve kept you on my books. Now here we are. Let’s go in, shall we?’
Hah! Even if Marie-France had been an Antoinette, she would not have fallen for Matthew Evans. He was only a little taller than her and rather plump. Yet he had a kind, boyish face etched with frown lines as though he was permanently worried about something. As for little Lottie, she looked as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. You would not think she was the diable that the others had talked about!