The Au Pair

by Janey Fraser

  ‘We’d like a family-sized margarita, please!’ chirped Lottie at the counter.

  Why was it that the phone always rang at the most inconvenient moments? Propping his mobile between his ear and shoulder, he tried to wrestle a tenner out of his wallet at the same time. ‘Hello. Hello? Sorry. Thought I’d lost you there for a moment. Yes, this is Matthew Evans.’

  ‘Matthew?’ an amused American voice was at the other end. ‘It’s Duncan here. We met at your offices last month. Got a minute to talk?’

  ‘Actually, I’m with my daughter. We’re buying pizza.’

  ‘Man after my own heart! What kind of parent buys his kids pizza on the way back from school? A hungry dad, that’s what we say in our house. Listen, I know you’ve left James’s practice but I still can’t find the right architect for my kids’ project. Would you like to come in tomorrow to my office and discuss this with me?’

  ‘Sorry. Lottie, watch how you pick up that pizza box or it will fall out! Look, I don’t have any childcare at the moment. I’m taking a sabbatical until we move house.’

  ‘I don’t think you get it, Matthew. I don’t want you to work in our office. You can work from home. And I can assure you we’re offering a very competitive fee structure. How about it?’

  Wow! Matthew put his mobile away, stunned by the figure that Duncan had just offered and wondering if this was a practical joke. A commission which would pay more than he had got from James? Working from home so he could still take Lottie to school and collect her?

  ‘Two margaritas, please.’

  ‘No, Mum, I said I wanted pepperoni. You never listen to me! I said I wasn’t vegetarian this week.’

  Swivelling round, he saw Christina and her moody daughter Emma at the counter. ‘Hi.’ Christina flushed. ‘I was hoping no one else would see me here. I mean, what kind of parent buys their kid pizza on the way back from school instead of cooking a proper family meal?’

  ‘A hungry parent?’ he suggested.

  Emma and Lottie rolled their eyes.

  ‘Mum’s so embarrassing.’

  ‘So’s my dad.’

  ‘Listen,’ he said quickly, ‘why don’t you come back to our place to eat? It’s a bit of a mess but—’

  ‘That would be great,’ scowled the teenager who was wearing a small gold nose ring instead of the silver one she’d had before. ‘Anything so we don’t have to go home where Mum will nag me. That’s all she does. Have you done your homework? Have you made your bed?’

  ‘I think Matthew has got the picture, thank you,’ said Christina, giving him an I-hope-you-understand look.

  ‘We do it the other way round,’ chirped Lottie. ‘I nag him. But someone has to. Isn’t that right, Dad? At least that’s what Mummy told Marie-France when our oh pear nearly went to heaven.’

  Christina raised her eyebrows.

  ‘It’s a long story,’ whispered Matthew. ‘Tell you when they’re safely tucked up in front of the television.’ He stopped, realising he’d presumed too much. ‘I mean, if that’s all right with you?’

  For one very long minute, she just stood there looking at him as though seeing him for the very first time. Then, to his huge relief, she nodded. ‘I’d like that, Matt,’ she said simply. Then she grinned. A rather mischievous grin with a twinkle that he hadn’t seen before. ‘I can call you that, can’t I?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ He nodded, feeling a lovely warmth sweeping through him. ‘Of course you can.’

  HOW TO SAY ‘HAPPY CHRISTMAS’ TO YOUR AU PAIR

  Joyeux Noël! (French)

  Bon Natale (Corsican)

  Jwaye Nowel (Haitian Creole)

  Buon Natale (Italian)

  God Jul (Swedish)

  Feliz Navidad (Spanish)

  Noeliniz kutlu olsun (Turkish)

  Chapter 41

  Six weeks later

  THE LAST TIME Jilly had been to France was for a school trip when she’d been about the same age as Nick. But now, the cool, glassy terminal of the airport and signs in another language brought back memories of that teenage exchange. Everything had seemed so different! So scary! So new! And so far from her mother at that age.

  Was that how Marie-France and the other au pairs had felt? Maybe she hadn’t appreciated that fully enough.

  ‘We’re going to see our tante,’ piped up Alfie at Passport Control.

  ‘She’s Mum’s niece, stupid. Not our aunt.’

  ‘Don’t kick me! That’s my French leg.’

  The man at the desk raised a quizzical eyebrow at her.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Jilly apologetically. ‘They’ve just discovered that they have a French relation and now this one here – that’s Harry although I know he looks like Alfie on his passport – thinks his right-hand side is French and that Alfie’s French side is on the left.’ She made a please-understand-my-terrible-accent face. ‘Sounds crazy, doesn’t it?’

  For one minute, she thought the passport control officer was going to refuse them entry – on grounds of insanity perhaps? – but then he waved them on. David was making a beeline for the luggage carousel with Nick who was actually talking earnestly to his father instead of to his iPhone.

  ‘Let me get this right, Dad. Uncle Jeremy got Marie-France’s mother pregnant when he was only a year older than me. But he only found when he and Marie-France had their Dee En Ay taken when she was in hospital.’

  ‘Spot on.’ David’s voice sounded steady. That cold critical attitude had evaporated during the panic over Marie-France’s stabbing and now he was back to his usual self.

  Mind you, that might not have happened without a rather painful let’s-thrash-it-out conversation which had taken place after Marie-France had been found.

  ‘Of course I’m not having an affair,’ he’d insisted when she’d tackled him about those pink pants which still no one had claimed. ‘But I will admit that I felt inadequate when everything went wrong at work.’

  He had given her a rueful I’m-sorry look. ‘And to be honest, I felt threatened by your agency. I’m sure that’s why my own parents’ marriage broke up. Mum was much more successful than Dad, just like your mother was. And I was frightened the same would happen to us.’

  She could understand that. But even so, she wasn’t letting him off that lightly. ‘I’d expected you to be supportive – not jealous or threatened.’

  He nodded. ‘I know. And do you know what made me change my mind? It was your parents’ party. I looked at your mum and dad and I realised they’re amazing.’

  ‘Amazing?’

  ‘Yes. They argue, I grant you, but when push comes to shove, they’re a team. They couldn’t exist without each other and that’s how I feel about you. I’m sorry, Jilly. Really sorry. I can’t imagine life without you.’

  She’d leaned against his chest, feeling his warm arms around her. ‘I can’t imagine life without you either, David. But it hasn’t changed the situation. Running an agency is stressful. And I need your support.’

  He nodded. ‘You have it.’ He frowned. ‘There’s just one thing. It’s about Fatima.’

  Her heart sank. She could guess what was coming next!

  ‘What was all that stuff about the man on the doorstep?’

  ‘You mean Nigel.’ She took a deep breath before explaining exactly what had happened. Rather flatteringly, he was furious.

  ‘If it wasn’t for you and Paula being such good friends, I’d have nothing to do with him. Smarmy bugger. I’ve seen him in the pub, chatting to other women. How dare he do the same to my wife? I’m going round to give him a piece of my mind.’

  Somehow she had persuaded him not to, pointing out that it wouldn’t help Paula. ‘Frankly, I think it’s best not to interfere. Things might get better between them. Like they have between Mum and Dad. You know, I can’t help feeling that the reason Mum was so understanding about Fatima was that deep down she’s always felt guilty about Collette and Marie-France.’

  David, still clearly livid about Nigel, had nodded. ‘You could
be right.’

  The repercussions and the questions were endless – and they were still continuing at the airport where her husband was, right now, engaged in a serious conversation with Nick.

  ‘So Uncle Jeremy was irresponsible really, Dad. He should have used contraception.’

  David didn’t miss a beat. ‘You could say that. If you want me to buy you some condoms, I’m happy to do so.’

  ‘Gross, Dad. That’s sick. Anyway, I’ve already got loads. We got them free at a school talk.’

  She hadn’t known that!’

  ‘But then if Uncle Jeremy had worn a raincoat, Collette wouldn’t have given birth to Marie-France. So it’s all worked out, hasn’t it?’

  ‘You could say that but—’

  ‘Dad!’ Alfie, who’d caught the tail end of the conversation, was looking puzzled. ‘How do raincoats stop you having babies?’

  ‘Let’s just change the subject, shall we?’ said Jilly hastily. ‘Now here’s Auntie Angela. Wait, you lot!’

  ‘Thank you, dear. Ah, that looks like my bag coming round now. Oh, do be careful, dear, there are some breakables inside. Just little gifts, you know. I thought it would show them how grateful I am to be included.’ She touched Jilly’s arm. ‘I do hope I’m not in the way.’

  Jilly was about to say that of course she wasn’t but Angela was still gabbling away nervously. ‘Marie-France might not be my granddaughter but I still feel fond of her. Silly, isn’t it?’

  ‘Not at all …’

  ‘Every year, when her mother used to send us pictures, I used to pore over them and convince myself I could see Adam in her.’ She fumbled in her bag for a handkerchief. ‘My way of keeping him alive, I suppose.’

  Jilly gave her a quick cuddle. It would have been better if Marie-France had turned out to be Adam’s. At least then she’d have had a grandmother who wanted her. Still, her own brother had come up trumps and, she had to admit it, Marie-France was an unexpected gift of a niece. In a way, she reminded her of her brother at that age: very charming but with a mind of his own and not afraid to tell others how to do it better.

  ‘I do wish that Sheila had agreed to come.’

  Jilly nodded, thinking back to her mother’s tight-lipped expression when the DNA test, done on the quiet by Marie-France and her brother, had shown that Jeremy was the father after all. But Jilly knew that, deep down, her mother was hurting. Badly. She was all too aware that by not telling Jeremy that he had a child, she’d deprived a little girl of her father and vice versa. Nothing could ever make up for that.

  Yet it could have happened to her! Just look at how Nick had sold off phone numbers for Antoinette and the other au pairs, as though he was some sort of pimp! It was so hard to control a teenager without a padded cell, an iPhone and a steady supply of Pot Noodles.

  Pot Noodles! That reminded her. Would Fatima really be all right at home? Her mind went back to the evening when Marie-France was being rushed to intensive care at the same time as Fatima went into labour.

  Eventually, after fifteen hours, she’d given birth to a ten-pound whopper although she’d caused huge consternation in the ward by refusing to allow any male doctor near her. Her son – Charlie, named after Prince Charles apparently – was incredibly good and Fat Eema herself had proved to be an amazing mother. During the day, she would knot the baby into a huge scarf behind her back and insisted on still helping the boys with their maths homework.

  They could even count to ten in Turkish now. Bir, iki, üç … And so on.

  There were still some visa issues to sort out but, to be honest, Fat Eema was part of their family now even though there were some things that would never be known.

  When it came to putting the father’s name on the birth certificate, Fat Eema’s lips had merely tightened. ‘I will not say,’ she spat. ‘I never want anything to do with him again.’

  Poor thing. Yet it was hard to feel sorry for her: she was so much happier now. Always chanting Turkish nursery rhymes to her son whom she adored – how ironic that she should have had a boy!

  They’d had to stop thinking of her as Fat Eema too. Amazingly, most of her baby weight fell off her within weeks so that Fatima actually developed hips and cheekbones. She began wearing clothes that were less shapeless including … guess what? Three pairs of pink pants, just like the ones she’d found before, suddenly turned up in the wash.

  ‘They are mine,’ she had said, blushing. ‘Marie-France, she buy them for me when I was big with baby. She say they are my goal. She say that if I want to wear them, I must lose weight. I am trying hard. Yes?’

  Was there anything that Marie-France hadn’t tried to put her nose in?

  ‘Jilly!’ David’s voice brought her back to the present. To the airport in France where they were about to meet Marie-France on her home ground. ‘Come on. They’ll be waiting in Arrivals.’

  Jilly’s heart began to beat wildly. Was this really a good idea? When Marie-France had rung from France and asked them all out to join her and her mother for Christmas, her immediate reaction had been to say no. Politely, of course. But then Jeremy had jumped at the idea, even though it meant taking time off at one of the most important times of the year for him.

  ‘Did you tell your parishioners the truth?’ she’d asked and he’d nodded.

  ‘Of course I did. I’m not ashamed that I have a daughter. How could I be? She’s a wonderful human being. But I do know that I have a lot of making up to do and … well, there may be a time when her mother isn’t going to be around. Marie-France will need me even more then.’

  Very true. Meanwhile, still feeling nervous about what lay ahead, Jilly took in the fresh French air – was it her imagination, or did it smell different from home? – and went through the green channel. There was a small crowd of people waiting expectantly in Arrivals. She swept her eyes over them, looking for a tall, dark-haired girl with a slightly Roman-shaped nose and flashing eyes.

  There was Marie-France, waving madly! And there, next to her, standing proud with a spiky black urchin haircut, wearing a skirt that was surely a little short for her thirty-seven years, was Collette. With a distinctly hostile expression on her face.

  JILLY’S AU PAIR AGENCY: GUIDELINES FOR AU PAIRS AND FAMILIES

  Many families and au pairs continue to keep in contact for years afterwards, often visiting each other!

  Chapter 42

  IF IT WASN’T for Thierry, thought Marie-France when they were waiting for Jeremy’s plane to land, none of this would be happening. Her mind went back to that terrible time in the hospital when she had read the newspaper article. It was all her fault – well, partly – for saying his name when the police had shown her the photographs.

  ‘It is a mistake!’ she had screamed to the police. And eventually, thank God, Thierry had been released and come straight to the hospital. She’d expected him to be mad at her but he’d been cool.

  ‘Hey, it’s OK,’ he had shrugged, sitting on the side of her bed even though the nurse had instructed him firmly to stick to the visitor’s chair. ‘It’s sorted now and the newspapers say they have someone else instead.’

  He had kissed the top of her forehead then, rather unexpectedly, and it had sent the same old magic down her spine. Not that she was going to let him know that, of course.

  ‘The main thing is that you’re safe and, of course, that you’ve finally found your dad.’

  She had scowled at that. ‘A wimpy gay vicar, you mean?’

  ‘C’mon, Marie-France. You don’t know he’s gay and even if he was, would that matter? We don’t choose our relatives. We just get them. And if you’re lucky, they hang around.’

  He had looked away but not before she had seen the hurt in his face. Thierry’s mother had left home when he was six and his father had reluctantly brought him up until he was sixteen before kicking him out and telling him to make his own way in life. It was a subject he didn’t care to raise very often.

  ‘If I were you, Marie-France,’ he’d said,
furtively drawing an envelope of tobacco from his pocket, ‘I’d get to know your father a bit better when they let you out of this place.’

  ‘But I’m going straight home!’

  ‘Then ask them over to France.’ He grinned. ‘That would get a few tongues wagging in the village.’

  Invite them to her own home? Maybe! But not just yet. Instead, she needed to supervise Maman’s recuperation after her treatment. She also had to work in the village’s only café so they could put food on the table. Money was tight and she didn’t like to ask about the handouts which had been coming from England all those years. Maybe they had now stopped? She certainly wasn’t asking for any more!

  Jeremy emailed her all the time and she usually replied. Yes, thank you. Her scar was healing nicely although it ached a bit from time to time, but it was nothing to worry about. Yes, she did have to testify at the trial, which would probably be in the spring. And yes, he was right. Although it would be painful, she needed to do this for Sozzy and the other au pairs.

  Marie-France was warmer with Jilly who also sent how-are-you-doing emails and photographs of the children. Naturally, there was nothing from Jilly’s mother, the old witch.

  As for Thierry, he was back from Ireland now and touring a place called North Umberland (and sending the occasional text). But the village was very quiet without him and her other friends who had all gone off to university. If it had not been for her mother’s illness, she could have stayed in the UK with little Lottie. How she missed her!

  Now her mother needed more treatment, she might even have to give up her place at the Sorbonne to look after her. After all, hadn’t her mother put her own life on hold at eighteen, instead of having an abortion? So it was only right that she should reciprocate.

  ‘What are you doing for Christmas, ma petite?’ one of her elderly neighbours asked her in early December. That’s when Thierry’s words came back to her. Why not? Why not ask Jeremy – she still could not say the word ‘father’ – and Jilly over to visit?