by Nikki Moore
‘It’s a bloody minefield,’ Matt commented, typing furiously on his mobile phone.
‘I just hope enough kids are free to come,’ Zoe frowned, ‘with it being bank holiday on the Monday, people might be away for the weekend.’
‘Do you know what?’ Matt paused. ‘If we’re going to do it, let’s go large. We’ll invite loads of people, not just Jasper’s friends but their nannies and parents too plus my friends and family. You should invite Rayne and Frankie as well, I’d love to meet them.’
‘Why?’ She tensed. What if one of them let something slip accidentally?
‘Why not? If you’re going to be with us for a while your friends should feel comfortable visiting. I know it’s my son’s birthday, but it would be a nice event for them to come to if there are a variety of people there. Right,’ Matt went on, oblivious to Zoe’s expression behind her sunglasses at his comment about staying for a while, ‘let’s talk about the guest list and the kind of entertainment Jasper might like…’
They spent the next twenty minutes discussing ideas and arrangements for the party until with a feigned sob of distress, Zoe begged Matt to save what they’d done and leave it alone. ‘We’ll divvy up the tasks tomorrow at breakfast,’ she said, ‘but please, let’s have a quiet half hour now.’
‘Aww, is it time for a nap?’
‘Not quite, but my brain is grinding to a halt,’ she admitted.
‘Fair enough. I do appreciate you doing this on your day off you know, and for helping me. Thanks.’
‘Thank you for making the effort to come to Hyde Park with the kids,’ she said, ‘I know it wasn’t easy but they’re really enjoying it. I think it’ll make a difference to you all.’
‘I think so too. You were right, and I’m glad you got me to consider it. I have to admit,’ Matt sat up, removing his baseball cap and scrubbing his hand through his thick black hair, ‘it’s not been as bad as I thought. Walking in was hard, I’m surprised I didn’t cut off the circulation to Aimee’s hand, but once I got past the first five minutes and faced the memories,’ he sucked in a deep breath, ‘it got easier. It probably helped that I had you to make fun of,’ he said with a straight face, putting the hat back on. ‘It’s been great entertainment.’
She sat up, sticking her tongue out at him and reaching for the hamper. ‘Whatever. Come on, let’s get the kids over and get stuck into this picnic.’
‘You’re okay to eat now?’
‘I should probably try, you’re right. And if I’m not,’ she said tongue in cheek, ‘I guess you and kids will just have to carry me home.’
13
It had been a good week, Zoe mused as she sat at the breakfast bar the following Saturday morning. She and Matt had barely had any time alone, but he’d eaten with them most nights and there had been an easy banter around the kitchen table as the kids chatted about what they’d got up to that day. For the most part, she’d been doing her share of secretly organising Jasper’s party around looking after them. Sending Ben 10 invites out, following up with whispered phone calls to apologise for the short notice and checking if people could come, sorting out decorations and ringing around children’s entertainers had kept her more than busy. The last task had proved to be a fruitless one because as predicted everyone was already booked for the peak summer season. Matt had suggested asking one of his world famous acts to come along and perform a mini-concert in the garden but Zoe vetoed the idea; it would be absolute mayhem with security and sound requirements and hardly up Jasper’s street. He’d agreed, so they’d had to come up with some creative alternatives, usually discussed over text during the day so there was no danger of the kids overhearing.
Matt had started writing out a food list, thinking about a birthday present and enlisting friends to help out with the BBQ. On Friday they were going to traipse around a supermarket together to get the food and drinks while Sadie watched the kids. She was back at work part-time phasing her duties and hours up and had offered to watch Aimee and Jasper for a few hours. It wasn’t really in her job description, but she was so insistent that Matt agreed. Zoe thought she was probably trying to get some practice in looking after kids, if she and her boyfriend were about to start actively trying for a baby.
Matt had pulled a face at the idea of a food shop, telling Zoe they could just get it delivered from a luxury food supplier he used, but she’d teased him that if he wanted normality for his kids, he should try normal too. Besides, it was part of the fun.
‘Look at this!’ Marching into the kitchen, Matt flung a newspaper down in front of her.
‘What’s the matter?’ she frowned.
‘Check page fifteen, celebrity news.’ His lips were compressed, the scar above his lip burning white.
Pushing her coffee away, she flicked through the paper until she came to the article he was on about. Matt Reilly In Love Again? screamed the bold headline.
‘Oh.’
‘They’re bloody vultures! Why can’t I ever have any privacy? I wore a hat for God’s sake.’ Spinning away from her, he moved around the kitchen slamming cupboard doors, clattering mugs around and flinging a metal teaspoon down on the side. ‘Bloody hell.’
‘It can’t be that bad.’
‘Read it.’
Zoe bent her head over the paper as he made a coffee. Bugger. A picture of her and Matt filled half the page. They were lying on a patch of grass facing each other, his head tilted towards hers, his hand holding her wrist. They looked cosy, as if oblivious to the world around them. It must have been taken the previous Sunday at Hyde Park when she’d punched him for saying she smelt of alcohol. There was a smile on his face as he gazed down at her. Luckily her back was to the camera so they couldn’t identify her, or see how awful she’d looked that day. But it was still invasive and disrespectful, not to mention pretty damning. No one studying the picture would think they were looking at a boss-employee relationship. Although from what she could remember the conversation had been an innocent one.
She scanned the article, which alleged that, ‘A mere five weeks since his broken engagement with his celebrity pop star ex-fiancée, Matt has been spotted snuggling up in Hyde Park with his children’s pretty new nanny.’
‘Oh, shit,’ she cringed, face burning. They’d identified her despite the sunglasses. Still, as she read on, she was relieved to see they didn’t seem to know much about her other than she’d started working for Matt recently and was thought to have spent a spell of time working abroad. It would have been worse if they’d mentioned all the gory details about Greg, or worse still, revealed her family, meaning Matt would have found out about her relationship to Melody in a horribly public way. If they kept digging into her background and published a follow up, he still could. Oh, double, triple shit. Panic filled her, clammy fingers smudging the black print of the newspaper into the margin. She should come clean as soon as possible. At least if the truth came directly from her, she would have a chance to explain things from her perspective.
She carried on reading, dreading what was coming next. The female celebrity journalist went on to set out Matt’s dizzy climb to fame and the death of his wife three years before. It was written in as spectacular fashion as possible, pulling out all the old speculation and rumours about Helen’s death. Zoe winced at the details, at the pain it must have caused him to read it. Turning the page to read the last paragraph, she found it bookended by another picture, this one taken later on in the afternoon when they’d had a lazy wander along the banks of the winding Serpentine. Aimee and Jasper were in the middle with Matt and Zoe bracketing them, all of their hands linked together so they formed a chain. They looked like a happy family.
‘We have it on good authority that Matt used to visit Hyde Park with his late wife Helen and their children,’ the reporter finished, ‘and he’s never been pictured with another woman there since, so could wife number two be on the horizon for our favourite home-grown music producer?’
‘Oh, for the love of—’ she hissed. Ta
lk about leaping to conclusions. ‘Now they’ve got us getting married? How totally ridiculous. They’ve included a photo of the kids too,’ she scowled at Matt, protective instincts for Aimee and Jasper kicking in, anger rising in her throat. ‘That’s not on.’
To her surprise, he said nothing about the marriage rumour.
‘No. It’s definitely not.’ He banged his coffee mug down on the counter, steaming black coffee sloshing over the sides. ‘I work so hard to protect them and now they’re splashed right across the national papers! Printing any of it in the first place isn’t on either. They didn’t even ask my PR Officer for a quote. I’m really pissed off,’ he gritted. ‘Sorry,’ he added as an afterthought.
‘Don’t worry about it. The kids are still in bed and I’ve already sworn once. I’ll make it twice. I’m pissed off too.’ It felt like an unbearable violation, making something public that was a private moment. It felt knotty and uncomfortable, the notion of all those people up and down the country reading the paper over breakfast, making judgements and jumping to conclusions about her and Matt.
Her face burned brighter, chest itching. She scrunched her eyes up in horror at what she’d been planning to do to him with Nannygate. A kiss and tell story would have been so much worse than this. What the hell had she been thinking? She was unbearably relieved she’d not gone through with it. It would have hurt him and potentially the kids, exposing them to all sorts of scrutiny and unwanted attention. It would have hurt her too. Her reputation would have been shot and she wasn’t sure she would have ever been able to look herself in the mirror again. Also, how could anyone have ever trusted her after that? Even if the article had been printed anonymously, it wouldn’t have taken much for people around them to put two and two together and disclose who she was.
‘They’re comparing me to Jude Law.’ Matt rubbed the back of his neck as she opened her eyes. ‘The whole scandal with his nanny.’
‘Well, that’s rubbish. It’s completely different. Jude Law was engaged when he had an affair with his nanny. You’re single.’ She stared at him, swallowing hard. ‘Unless there’s something you haven’t told me.’
‘What? Of course not.’ Putting his hands on his hips, ‘Do you really think I would have kissed you if I was involved with someone else?’
She dropped her gaze to the silver flecked black marble. ‘Some guys wouldn’t have a problem with it. Besides, it shouldn’t have happened.’
He strode over to her, tilting her chin up with his finger. ‘Hey,’ he said fiercely, ‘I’m not like that. I’m not your ex-fiancé. I don’t start one thing unless I’ve ended another. I swear.’
The comment echoed through her mind as she tried to ignore the sparkling sensation on her skin that his touch caused. She’d heard something like it before. Where had it been? She strained to remember who’d said it but it eluded her like a cloudy dandelion seed dancing on the wind just out of reach.
‘But you’re right,’ he added, ‘it shouldn’t have happened. We’ve got to control ourselves.’
‘Yes,’ her mouth dried up as her eyes flickered over his tall solid frame, his muscular thighs and broad shoulders lovingly outlined in the habitual jeans and t-shirt he wore. She wished he hadn’t said that. Telling her they shouldn’t give in just made her want him more. The curse of forbidden fruit was that it tasted even better when you caved to temptation and took what you wanted.
Matt stepped back and walked across the kitchen to grab a damp cloth. ‘You uh, don’t know anything about it, do you?’
‘Know anything about what?’
Crossing back to the breakfast bar, he moved the mug and wiped up the coffee he’d spilt. ‘The article. You didn’t tell anyone where we were going?’
‘Are you accusing me of tipping off the press?’ Her voice shook with suppressed anger. She knew nothing about it. Still, the fact it was so damned close to what she’d originally intended sent a sharp stab of guilt through her.
‘No. I’m just asking if there’s a possibility—’
She leapt off the stool, its feet scraping on the tiled floor like the screech of chalk on a blackboard. ‘No, Matt. I didn’t tell anyone where we were going.’ Her conscience was clear on that. ‘I had nothing to do with this, nothing,’ she emphasised, sweeping around the counter and standing in front of him. ‘I wouldn’t do that to you or the kids. And it’s not just you affected, is it?’ She crossed her arms. ‘I’m right there in those photos and they’ve named me. People are going to assume we’re sleeping together, which hardly makes me look professional. We look like…’ she was going to say we’re in love, but held back. That wasn’t the case and it would just embarrass them both saying it out loud. She ran her hands through her hair, thinking of what Mel and Ruth were going to say. ‘God, my family are going to be asking me all sorts of questions. What a mess!’
He studied her face, breathing hard. After a moment he slowly exhaled. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. You’re caught up in this too; I’m afraid it’s one of the risks of working for me.’ He touched her arm, ‘I didn’t mean to suggest you were involved. Sorry. I do trust you.’
Nodding, she squirmed. But he shouldn’t have trusted her. This was getting even more complicated. ‘That’s okay, I understand you’re upset. It was probably a natural question to ask,’ she edged away from him, returning to her stool and picking up her lukewarm coffee. ‘So, why do you think they waited until today to publish the story? They’ve sat on it for almost a week.’
‘I should think it’s because there’s a higher circulation on a Saturday,’ Matt answered with a bitter twist to his lips.
‘Right. And what are we going to do about the article? Will you be taking legal advice?’
His mouth quirked at her use of the word we, but he didn’t comment on it. ‘I’ve already spoken to my solicitor, although I already knew the drill. It’s too late for an injunction as they’ve already run the story. We could consider taking formal action against them for libel, but we’d have to prove defamation and that would be hard to evidence definitively.’
‘Sorry, you’ve lost me. What does that mean, in words of one syllable?’
‘Defamation is when a false claim is made. Libel is proving that what’s been printed has caused me or my reputation injury or exposed me to public ridicule. It would be almost impossible to prove we’re not in a relationship, with you living here and…’
‘And what?’
He looked her square on, ‘With me not being able to swear openly and truthfully that there’s never been anything between us.’
‘I see,’ she murmured, her tummy dipping like she was back home in Southend on a rollercoaster, the sea breeze flapping her hair around her face at the speed of the ride.
‘As for the libel,’ he continued when she didn’t say anything more, ‘it would be hard to prove the story has caused injury to the kids simply by being photographed and as for injury to me that would be even harder. I’m single so it doesn’t put an existing relationship at risk or make me look like a cheating bastard. I do look like a bit of a player though, moving on from my supposed ex to you within weeks. I don’t want it to look as though I’m a serial dater.’
‘What, when the truth is that you don’t date at all? Does it really matter what other people think? The two most important people in your life,’ she pointed to the ceiling, ‘won’t know anything of what’s going on unless you tell them.’
‘I know that, and you have a valid point, but I still don’t want people to see me that way when it’s not the truth. They had no right to print the story,’ he seethed.
‘No, they didn’t, but I guess it’s the price you pay for doing what you do. You love what you do, right?’
‘Yes,’ he nodded, ‘absolutely. So I suppose it’s worth it. Not everyone gets to do something they’re passionate about for a living, do they?’ He paused, calming down. ‘I am lucky for that. I’d hate to be stuck in a job I hated. Life is too short.’ He looked pensive. ‘To answer your earli
er question, after speaking with my solicitor and considering the options, unfortunately there’s no point in pursuing a case. It’ll simply draw more attention to us. As my solicitor pointed out, today’s newspaper is tomorrow’s chip paper. If I don’t respond or retaliate hopefully they’ll get bored and move on. As for looking like a serial dater, I’ll just have to make sure I’m not seen with anyone else.’
At his words, the memory she’d been reaching for earlier arrived in a flash. She pictured outspoken Monica with the other nannies the day Zoe had joined them in Green Park. The other woman had been criticising Mel’s lousy taste in men. ‘He’s immature and spoilt, and a serial dater.… unfortunately he’s not that great at finishing one thing before starting the next.’
‘So that you don’t look like a serial dater like your brother?’ Zoe blurted in reply to his comment.
‘Where did you hear that?’
She shrugged. ‘The other nannies talk, Matt.’
‘Of course. Well, the rumours are probably true, so I can’t really be angry. The truth is,’ he rested a hip against the kitchen counter, looking troubled, ‘that I love my brother, but he’s not got the best track record with women.’
‘What about Melody, your last nanny? What was he like with her? You said she broke his heart?’ Rising from her seat she crossed the room, emptying the dregs of her coffee in the sink and bending over to load the mug into the dishwasher.
‘He was different with her; he seemed to really care. That was probably why he took what happened so hard and was in such a mess when she left. It would explain why he felt the need to get away.’
Breathing in deeply, she clutched the edge of the dishwasher door. But she didn’t just leave. You made her go, and without telling her why. Straightening up, she opened her mouth to ask him outright what had happened. She would tell him why she wanted to know and confess that she was Melody’s sister. It was time to get it out in the open. Even though a piece of her didn’t want the answer because it would mean she no longer had a reason to stay, at least she would have closure for Mel. Plus, she couldn’t do this anymore. Anxiety was gnawing at her stomach all the time, a grey cloud of apprehension hovering over her shoulder. With the newspaper article added in, it felt a hundred times worse. ‘Matt,’ she said shakily, ‘I—’