The Perfect Nanny

by Karen Clarke

  Tears filled my eyes. ‘I’m starting to think there’s something seriously wrong with me.’

  Reaching out, she took my hand. ‘Have you seen a doctor?’

  I nodded, which made everything spin and sent a cascade of tears down my face. ‘I had some blood tests.’ I sniffed. ‘I’ll give the surgery a ring tomorrow.’

  ‘Have you been taking the vitamins I sent?’

  ‘I have, but they don’t seem to be making much difference.’

  ‘It can take a couple of months. They’ve really transformed me,’ she said, dropping her hand into her bag and pulling out a pack of tissues. She handed me one, reminding me of Liv doing the same thing with a sheet of kitchen roll, which had felt rough beneath my eyes. ‘I remember after I had Toby my iron levels were on the floor. I couldn’t keep my eyes open most of the day. Maybe it’s the same for you.’

  Slightly reassured, I wiped my eyes before swinging my legs to the floor. It felt like there were tiny hammers, banging inside my head. ‘Did you get terrible headaches, and sometimes do things you couldn’t remember doing?’

  Natasha’s eyebrows lifted. ‘I did get headaches.’ She gently touched my knee. ‘I don’t think I ever lost time, though. Mind you—’ she gave a soft laugh ‘—those first few months with Toby are a bit of a blur. He had terrible colic for ages.’

  ‘I remember you saying.’ I was glad I could at least remember something. ‘This feels more than that somehow.’ Saying it aloud scared me. What if I was terminally ill? I couldn’t bear for Finn to grow up without a mother.

  ‘I’m sure you’re going to be fine.’ Natasha took both my hands and pulled me gently to my feet. She was taller than me, and much better put together in an expensive-looking ruffle-sleeved top and trousers, the only sign she’d been horse riding the rosy flush on her cheeks and a few strands of hair trailing from her bun. ‘Better?’

  I felt horribly sick but nodded, swallowing the rush of saliva that filled my mouth.

  ‘I hope my brother is looking after you.’

  I nodded again, not daring to speak in case I either vomited or cried – or both.

  ‘I’m sorry I can’t stay longer,’ she said, reaching to the floor for her bag. ‘I drove down to see an old client and thought it would be nice to take Lady Madonna out while I was here.’

  ‘And to see your mother.’ I managed a weak smile, feeling as wobbly as a newborn foal. ‘She was happy you were here.’

  ‘Not happy that I didn’t have Toby with me.’ Natasha’s voice cooled slightly. ‘Rory’s picking him up from school but I want to get back in time to make them dinner,’ she said. ‘Old-fashioned, I know, but I missed out a bit when Toby was a baby and I was setting up the business.’

  It struck me, not for the first time, how unlike Elizabeth she was. In fact, both she and Dom were much more like their father. ‘She misses you,’ I said, making a huge effort to sound like my normal self – whatever that was. ‘And Toby.’

  Natasha didn’t comment, but as we reached the front door – every step sending a throb of pain through my head and the room revolving – Natasha paused and glanced up the thickly carpeted stairs. ‘Don’t let her take over,’ she said, so quietly I almost didn’t hear. ‘I know from experience she can be a bit much.’ Her eyes flicked up again, as though expecting her mother to appear at any moment. ‘Bye, Mum!’ she called, her voice cheery. ‘I’ll ring when I get home. Love you!’

  She gave me a close-lipped smile and squeezed my arm. ‘Will you be OK to drive?’

  I nodded, which seemed to be all I was capable of.

  Natasha pressed soft lips to my cheek, filling my nostrils with her delicate scent. ‘Take care, Sophy. Give Dom my love.’

  ‘Come and visit soon, all of you,’ Elizabeth called, hurrying downstairs, but by the time she reached the bottom the door had closed and Natasha was gone.

  ‘Feeling better, are you?’ Elizabeth’s tone was neutral, her gaze bland when she looked at me.

  ‘I’m so sorry. I honestly don’t know what happened,’ I said. ‘Thank you for bringing me in and looking after us.’

  ‘I’d better drive you home in case you have an accident.’

  ‘There’s no need.’ My tongue felt stuck to the roof of my mouth. I was starving suddenly. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. ‘I’ll just go and get Finn.’

  ‘You mustn’t drive with a baby in the car.’ She tensed her jaw so the tendons in her neck stood out. ‘It’s not worth the risk.’

  I began to protest, but she was pushing something at me. Her phone; a photo.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘This was how I found you,’ she said. ‘I thought you should know.’

  As the image zoomed into focus, I saw with horror that it was me, sprawled in the stable, Finn propped awkwardly against a bale of hay in nothing but his little tracksuit, a big bay horse leaning over his stable door, the white flash on his face a contrast to his glossy black mane. It was obvious from the steam blowing out of his nostrils that it was freezing cold.

  ‘I honestly don’t remember going to the stables.’ Sickness rose again. ‘I was in the kitchen and then … that’s the last thing I remember.’

  ‘It’s a good job I was here.’ Elizabeth slipped her phone in her pocket and glanced at her watch. ‘Now, I’ll go and get Finn and take you home in your car.’

  My breathing felt shallow. I couldn’t seem to find the right words to tell her no. ‘How will you get back here?’

  ‘I won’t need to.’ Her chin rose as she turned back to the stairs. ‘Dom won’t mind me staying overnight.’

  Chapter 25

  Liv

  I’d spent most of the morning holed up in my childhood bedroom, flopped on the single bed like a hung-over teenager, whilst going over the total cock-up I’d made earlier with Sophy. It hadn’t occurred to me that Kim would tell Elizabeth about the social worker – and worse, that she would let Sophy know I’d spread gossip about her. I’m such an idiot!

  But I was sure I’d wriggled out of it. Sophy wasn’t in the right head-place to work things out, and seemed to be depending on me more and more; even spilled out her troubles, like I was her friend, convinced I would help her. She was beginning to trust me.

  I sat on the edge of my bed, turning my phone over in my hand, wondering whether to attempt another call to Ryan. My eyes were fixed on the window, flagged by the same cheap chintzy curtains from my childhood. Outside, the day was as ugly and grey as my thoughts. Sophy had been so flippant about her university boyfriends; described her time with Ben as quite serious. Quite serious! Ben had loved her so desperately he took his own life, and yet to her he’d been simply quite serious.

  ‘I won’t give up, Ben,’ I whispered, picking up a photo of us both on holiday at Butlin’s, that stood on my bedside cabinet. ‘I won’t stop until the bitch has lost everything.’ But my words seemed to lack my earlier conviction. Sophy wasn’t a bitch, and her life was far from perfect.

  I got up from the bed, and made my way onto the landing. I looked at the closed door to Ben’s room, running my hand over the flaking paintwork. I rarely went in there – the shrine to my brother – but today I needed to feel close to him.

  The door always got stuck on the carpet, as though allowing a moment to think before going in. I gave it a shove, thoughts of Ben bombarding my senses. Inside, everything was as it had been that awful day I found him – even the mug with Thor on, he’d used hours before his death, still sat on his desk. He’d loved Harry Potter, Marvel, DC, Star Wars, and his shelves were full of models, the walls covered with posters. Books he would never look at again were crammed onto bookshelves. One lay open, butterflied on his bedside table. I dashed away a tear. Mum hadn’t changed a thing.

  Why am I in here, putting myself through this?

  Attached to the mirror, which was propped against the wall on an old chest of drawers, were photos of Ben with his friends. Groups of lads, arms round each other, cheering at the camera, beer bottles
raised – happiness radiating from their young faces. There were no photos of Sophy, but the remains in an ashtray of photos Ben burnt the day he died were still there, and I’d always believed they were of her.

  I touched the glass ashtray with my fingertips. I’d hated that he’d smoked in his room, but now I would have given anything to find him flopped on his bed puffing away, headphones on, tapping his foot to his heavy metal music.

  I lowered myself onto the bed, and began moving the charred pieces of photographs around. I picked up a fragment – a nose, perhaps – a red-checked shirt maybe.

  ‘Liv!’ It was Freya, calling from the bottom of the stairs. ‘Liv, have you got a minute, please?’

  I wiped away a tear, and placed the burnt offering back in the ashtray. I rose and looked once more around my brother’s room. What a tragic waste of a beautiful life.

  Downstairs, Freya was waiting for me. ‘Couple of things,’ she began, smiling. ‘Shall we go into the kitchen?’

  I followed her through, and she pulled out a chair at the tiny table that seated two. Once we’d sat down, she opened her spiral-bound notepad, licked her finger, and flicked through the pages. ‘First off,’ she said, with a bouncy tone, ‘I’m heading to my lodge in Southwold, so Shari will be filling in for me. She’s new, but I’ve worked with her before, and she’s lovely. Your mum’s aware, and more than happy.’ She put a huge tick next to what she’d written in her notebook.

  ‘I hope the weather cheers up for you.’ I glanced towards the window, my mind drifting to Dom, the smell of Eternity on his clothes. Maybe this was how I would bring Sophy to her knees. She was dependent on him for everything. If he was having an affair it would ruin her.

  ‘Well, I’m not that bothered about the weather, truth be told,’ Freya was saying. ‘I’ll spend the time reading and walking – my idea of heaven.’

  I stood up, my mind not fully on Freya’s holiday plans, an idea forming in my head, and causing a surge of excitement. ‘Is that all you wanted me for? Because I need to do something.’

  She put down her pen and took hold of my hand. ‘I do care about your mum, Liv,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t be going away if I didn’t need a break. I am entitled to time off.’

  ‘Yes, of course, I know that.’ I furrowed my forehead. ‘You don’t have to explain it to me, Freya.’ I looked towards the open kitchen door, pulling my hand free. ‘Where is Mum, by the way?’

  ‘She dropped off to sleep in front of Miss Marple.’ Freya rose too. ‘I’m going to make her a nice cup of tea and a slice of cake. I’ve made a lemon drizzle. What about you? Would you like a cuppa?’

  I shook my head. ‘Not right now.’ I left the kitchen, and grabbed my jacket from the hook near the door. ‘I’ve got to be somewhere.’

  The train stood at Finsbury Park Station when Ryan called me.

  ‘Thank God,’ I said, on answering. ‘I’ve been worried sick about you.’

  ‘Why?’ He sounded like a little boy, trying to act innocent.

  ‘You know why, Ryan. You leave some bizarre message about Sophy.’ My voice was rising, and a man opposite peered at me over his Financial Times. ‘You were pissed when I rang,’ I continued, reducing my voice to a whisper. ‘You weren’t at home when I called round.’

  ‘So I’m supposed to stay in in case you drop in on me for the first time in a year?’

  His words stung. ‘That’s not what I’m saying.’ I bit down on my anger, as the train pulled away. ‘You said Sophy wasn’t who she seemed.’

  ‘Did I?’ He was making a bad job of pretending to sound puzzled. ‘I was pissed, Liv. I didn’t know what I was saying.’

  ‘You must have an idea, surely. It’s important. I want to know all I can about the woman.’ Silence. ‘Ryan? Ryan?’ Damn, I’d lost the signal.

  Situated near London Bridge, Apex TV emerged in its enormity as I stepped out of the railway concourse, into a bright afternoon. The ugly grey sky had been replaced with pale shades of blue and fluffy white clouds, though it was bitterly cold.

  It was almost 5 p.m. and office workers, in their flat shoes, carrying laptops, surged towards me, heading homeward. I stepped to one side, my eyes skittering around the area. I was there to catch Dom out, but in cold reality, how likely would it be that I would see him at all, let alone catch him with his other woman? And the affair was only an assumption anyway. Based on what? Unfamiliar perfume on his clothes? The fact his wife was falling down a rabbit hole of depression and possibly alcohol abuse, driving him away?

  People streamed from the tall building. My hopes rose as I stepped out of sight behind a bus shelter, and rummaged in my bag for my phone. If he did appear – with her – I needed a photograph.

  Following a stream of workers, I saw him, making his way through the revolving glass doors in narrow black trousers, and a calf-length black coat, the collar up.

  I dived from behind the bus shelter, my heart pounding, and followed him. He moved fast, heading away from the station. I had to trot to keep up, my phone camera at the ready, feeling like a private detective. He went into a chemist, and I hung about outside, peering in through the window as he queued, keeping his distance from other shoppers.

  It was as he stepped back out onto the wide pavement, dragging his fingers through his dark hair, and looking into his bag, that I saw her. Tall with long blonde hair, and high cheekbones, dressed in a navy coat belted at the waist, a pink scarf in the neck. She linked her arm through his elbow, and, as he looked up and into her face, a surprised expression on his, she moved in closer. As she touched his cheek, he grabbed her hand, said something, her name perhaps? I was too far away to hear. I fumbled with my phone, bringing up the camera app, but when I looked up, they’d gone.

  I spun on the spot, before heading down the road. The London street had got busier, and my heart raced as I rounded the corner, and searched the throng of people for Dom. A black taxi hooted as I stepped into the road without thinking. But I still couldn’t see them.

  I turned and headed back to the station, my heartbeat slowing as I realised it didn’t matter. I didn’t need a photo. I’d seen him, and that was enough. All I had to do now was suggest Dom was having an affair, cast doubts in Sophy’s mind, and I felt sure she would begin to believe it. Then I would reveal how I’d seen him with another woman.

  Chapter 26

  Liv

  ‘Livy? Is that you?’ Mum called. It was six-thirty, and I felt like crap, my head pounding. How people travelled to and from London in rush hour every day was beyond me.

  ‘Yes, it’s me. The prodigal daughter has returned.’ I shuffled free from my jacket, and peered round the lounge door. ‘What are you two up to?’ I said, although it was obvious. Freya and Mum were sitting close together, their heads almost touching, as they worked on a jigsaw puzzle of a village scene.

  ‘We’re pretty sure Sparky’s eaten a few pieces.’ Mum smiled as she stroked the dog, curled up on her lap asleep.

  ‘There’s definitely a corner missing,’ Freya, said, slotting a piece in place. ‘And we’re sure the church spire is working its way through the dog’s digestive tract as we speak, aren’t we, Sparky?’

  The dog looked up at the mention of his name, chocolate-brown eyes curious.

  ‘We probably won’t be able to use the pieces when they appear again,’ Mum said with a laugh. ‘Where have you been, love?’

  I sat down on one of the dining chairs, which creaked with age, flopped my head backwards, and closed my eyes, my mood a million miles from theirs. ‘London.’

  ‘You’ve not been with Sophy Edwards today, then?’

  ‘I went first thing, but she was taking Finn to his grandmother’s house.’ I opened my eyes, my thoughts roaming from Elizabeth to Dom. ‘Something’s not right in that house.’

  ‘Such a shame, especially as there’s a little boy in the mix,’ Mum said. ‘He’ll be the one who suffers in the long run.’

  ‘Indeed he will.’ Freya slotted a piece of jigsaw in pl
ace. ‘The child will end up in care, if things don’t improve.’

  The words reached deep into my conscience. I thought how Sophy desperately wanted to be a better mother, how unwell she seemed. But then Finn did nothing but cry in her presence. He’d be better off without her, wouldn’t he? He’d still have Dom, and Elizabeth.

  ‘Are you OK, Liv?’ Mum said.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I muttered, rising to my feet, and heading for the door. ‘I just need to go out for a bit.’

  I pulled up outside number seven and killed the car engine. I wasn’t sure what I was going to say to Sophy – my head seemed to be a mass of tangled thoughts. I climbed out of the Mini.

  Dom’s car was on the drive, and my heart galloped. Was he home? What if he’d seen me in London, spying on him? No, I was being ridiculous. Of course he hadn’t seen me.

  I headed up the steps and pressed the doorbell, and waited. The Avenue was dark and silent; the houses brooding and watchful. Another blast of the bell, and the door opened – my heart sank. ‘Elizabeth?’

  ‘Liv.’ She eyed me up and down, making my skin prickle with unease. ‘Whatever are you doing here at this hour?’

  I could ask you the same question. ‘Is Sophy here?’ I said, keeping my voice even.

  ‘She is, yes, but she’s having a lie-down. Actually …’ She looked back over her shoulder and into the house, and lowering her voice, added, ‘She did say she won’t need you anymore. I’m staying for a while to help out.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘It couldn’t have escaped your notice that Sophy is suffering with mental health problems. It’s a family issue.’

  ‘But I’m her friend, I can help too—’

  ‘She needs professional help, and I will make sure she gets it.’

  A child’s cry from inside the house sent Elizabeth scurrying down the hallway, and a failed attempt to slam the door on me gave me a chance to follow her in.

  I reached the kitchen where Elizabeth was now holding Finn, singing to him, rocking him to and fro. There was no sign of Sophy.