Nanny Needed

by Georgina Cross

  I don’t understand.

  What do you mean she doesn’t exist? The words screech through my head but not a sound comes from my mouth.

  “She was a toddler, she got really sick and the doctors said it was something contagious. We weren’t allowed to say goodbye. After she died, her body had to be kept separate from everyone and Collette was devastated. Beside herself with grief. She didn’t want to believe that Patty was gone—she outright refused to accept it. We all were in denial at first. She was here with us playing, and then, the grieving process set in. Losing my sister like that…she was so young, so tiny.”

  It’s hard to keep up with everything he’s saying. A pulsing rushes through my brain and clogs my head like cotton shoved inside my ears, muffling his voice. But then I hear him—and I can’t stop hearing him—and now I wish he would stop. But it’s too late. Too many outlandish words and revelations are coming from him now and he’s looking at me and expecting me to understand.

  So if she’s dead…if she’s not here…then who was Collette talking to?

  Who was in the bathroom?

  What am I doing here?

  But what I ask instead is “When?” my voice coming out in a raspy croak.

  “Almost twenty years ago. Before her fourth birthday.”

  Twenty years ago? Is that what he just said? She’s been gone twenty years?

  I lift my hands. “Wait a minute. Collette has spent twenty years pretending her daughter is still alive?”

  “She’s not pretending. She actually thinks she sees her. She saw her right there in that tub.” He says this so calmly, so matter of fact, it takes a couple more beats for his words to sink in.

  The girl died at the age of three, but Collette thinks she still sees her daughter. She believes in her head the girl is alive. She expected me to see Patty splashing in those bubbles just as she saw her.

  The perfect image I’ve had of this woman comes crashing down. Her mesmerizing face, grace, and elegance. The way she floats in and out of every room. The magnetic smile and Chanel wardrobe; a life of luxury and carefree days playing with her daughter. But it’s all a front. A mirage. Her mind is its own cage. Life with her daughter, a delusion.

  And it hurts—I’m stunned—but most of all, my heart breaks for Collette.

  She hires nannies because she thinks Patty needs one. Everyone in this house knows it’s not true but goes along with it anyway.

  No, everyone signed contracts and now they have to go along with it, bribed by a big salary—my cheeks flash hot at the thought of how eager I’d been to accept it myself, how few questions I’d asked—free gourmet meals and who knows what other perks they give the staff to keep them quiet.

  “Oh my God,” I whisper, dropping my hands into my lap. A loud rush of steam barrels through my head, my pulse quickening in my throat at every other realization hitting me too.

  Patty doesn’t need playtime or story hour or ice cream. She never has to eat peanut butter or be terrified of going down a slide again.

  Because Patty is dead.

  No wonder the ad emphasized discretion is of the utmost importance—no shit. You can’t let something like this get out. And no wonder Collette, or Stephen, for that matter, wasn’t concerned about me having zero nannying experience.

  Because they don’t need a real nanny.

  Without Patty, there’s no child to look after. No client.

  And with no client, there shouldn’t be a job.

  Grief seizes my chest. Grief for someone I’ve never met. A little girl who, if she’d had a chance to grow up, would have been only a couple of years younger than I am today. She’s missed out on so much. But Patty died twenty years ago and they’ve kept her enshrined as a forever three-year-old, going on four. I never stopped to question Collette’s age either. She looks young, or I assumed she waited until later in life to have a child, as many in New York do. Not once did I think Patty was a child she gave birth to two decades ago.

  So if there is no child, where does that leave me? What does the job entail? No lacing of shoes or brushing of ponytails. No picking up after her or consoling her when she throws a temper tantrum. No calming her down to take a nap. No need for the dollhouse in the playroom or coloring books either. My visions of taking her to tea parties off Columbus Circle and slicing into pieces of rainbow cake vanish into thin air. There’s no one to hold hands with as we cross the street, her tiny fingers laced with mine.

  No need for anything at all.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “I know this seems insane,” Stephen says. And I swallow hard—insane? That’s one word to describe it. “But it’s the only way Collette can cope. It keeps her out of the hospital.” His eyes squint painfully. “Patty’s death nearly destroyed her and she was lost for a long time. It was awful, the trips in and out of the psych ward. Years where we didn’t know if she would ever get any better.” He flashes me a look. “I know what you must be thinking. That it’s not right. How could we do something like this—the lies, the fantasies—how can any of this help her? But”—he stares achingly at me—“it does. It’s better than the alternative.”

  His eyes blink fast to fight back the tears. “It’s not right but it helps all of us,” he continues. “Collette tried killing herself numerous times. If we lost her, my dad would never recover. After losing Patty, he can’t lose Collette too. It’s the only solution we’ve found that keeps her going.”

  He stops speaking. I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t. He’s giving me a moment to recover from the bombshells he’s just dropped—he’s getting his bearings too. He seems shaken by what he’s told me, the details he’s shared. Things he would never tell anyone except for the few staff who work here.

  When the silence lengthens, I tell him, “I don’t know what to say,” and it’s the truth. What he’s revealed is the wildest, most preposterous thing I’ve ever heard. Nothing could have prepared me for this, not the strange wording in the ad or the way Collette acted during my interview. Or the fact that my second day on the job, I still hadn’t met the child.

  And my mind halts again—the child behind that chair. There hadn’t been anyone. Collette had been speaking to no one.

  Did I get the job because I was the only dummy to fall for it? Was it because I connected so quickly to Collette or because I didn’t question a thing they told me? Stephen must think I’m gullible and desperate, and I’ve done nothing but prove him right.

  I fight the urge to stand up and run but force myself to stay in my seat, a tremble in my hands and legs. I’m shaking my head too, knowing this is beyond crazy. A dead girl…

  I take a deep breath. “Everyone is in on this?”

  He nods, confirming my earlier suspicions.

  I think of Pauline, the way she’d nearly hugged me that first day, the warm pat on the arm, and I suddenly feel the first waves of betrayal, the first pangs of anger that everyone, including her, has been leading me on and lying to my face. How dare they—how dare she? She told me I was going to love it here. I trusted her.

  The pop of the elastic band on her wrist.

  Is that why she keeps it there? To keep her anxiety at bay dealing with Collette day after day?

  And then Freddie. The perpetual scowl on his face, his indifference at meeting the new nanny. Because he knew they didn’t need one. No wonder he’s such an ass. Making hot chocolate and strawberry waffles for Patty is a waste of his damn time but he fakes it along with everyone else.

  My chest hurts again, the reality sinking in. There’s no one to nanny.

  I cross my hands to Stephen in an X. Time-out. I need to understand a few more things.

  “So all of you encourage this delusion?” I ask. “You let Collette think her kid is alive? You keep her in the dark with this charade and you bring in a nanny—you bring in me—and I’m supposed to do wh
at? You expect me to just play along? Poor Collette.” I wave my arm. “She has no idea.”

  Stephen tries to interrupt but I can’t stop speaking, my anger and nerves taking over.

  “You don’t need a nanny—you don’t need me. What you guys need is a doctor. She needs a doctor. Collette needs serious help. Someone to care for her and make her better.” I feel a sob in my throat. “She deserves that.” I feel my eyes grow big as I meet his face again. “And you’ve been doing this for twenty years? Are you crazy? Do you know how much worse you’re making this for her?” I’m breathless. I’ve gone too far, said things I shouldn’t have said to my boss.

  I look at Stephen, feeling the flush in my cheeks. But can he blame me?

  “How has no one stopped you?” I ask. “How has no one found out?”

  “The contract,” Stephen says, simply.

  My heart stops cold.

  I drop my eyes to his desk, seeking the contract he’d placed there, but I no longer see it. My signature, which had been nice and neat and looped in cursive with a ballpoint pen on the last page. Yesterday’s date and my full consent to every single clause contained in that document.

  “You never gave me a copy,” I remind him.

  To his credit, Stephen looks apologetic. “I’m sorry about that,” he says. “I meant to.” He glances at one of the desk drawers that’s locked with a key. “I still will, of course.”

  “I didn’t see anything in there about this.”

  “You didn’t look close enough.”

  A warm flush rises in my neck. “Well you could have told me. You lied to me. You waited until it was too late, after I’d already signed the contract.”

  “I know this is highly unusual,” Stephen says, and I look up in exasperation. “And I can’t imagine what’s running through your head.” Yes, I nearly hiccup. Like what other details have you buried inside that contract? “But I assure you it’s something you will learn to tolerate, to work with and respect. I’m sorry I misled you but there was no other way. Please give it some time. Give us a chance. You’re not the first one to do this, the first nanny who’s had to pretend. We’re all here to help the best way we can. And since we’ve been doing this for a while, we have a system. Each of us has a role.”

  I think back to my first interview. He instructed Pauline to greet me. He made sure Collette never showed me a real girl. He’s the one who encouraged me to sign the contract. He’s been doing this for years.

  There was the nanny last year.

  And the one before that.

  Exactly how many nannies have there been?

  “I love her, you know. My stepmother,” he says, his voice turning soft. “My mom moved on a long time ago without us. She’s in Europe, sometimes Hong Kong, wherever suits her fancy.” He scowls. “But Collette…” He smiles again. “She changed our whole world around. Before her, I hadn’t seen my dad that happy in a long time, and then to have a little girl come into our lives—a baby. She brightened up this place. They both did.” His gaze drops to his lap. “Collette used to, at least. Before Patty died.”

  I’m heartbroken for him, I am, but the more I think about it, the angrier I am at how he duped me. What he’s done. Anger flares beneath my ribs, but Stephen looks at me steadily.

  “So you’ve never heard of us?” he asks.

  A nervous flutter rises into my belly. What should I have heard? Are there monstrous tales about what happened to the nannies before me? Why did they really leave?

  All that time I spent googling this family and barely found a thing, I should have been suspicious. No one’s social media footprint is that small without effort, which means they’ve put a clamp on everything.

  I return my attention to Stephen. Maybe I should have spent more time googling this man instead of his parents. I thought he seemed kind, the older brother vetting the candidates and being so involved in the process. No wonder he wanted to talk to each of us. Which makes me wonder, what else isn’t he saying?

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “I know this is unusual,” Stephen says. “You can leave right now if you really want.” His eyes flicker to the door. “But you’ll lose the pay. And we can sue you.” My eyes leap to his face, his tone suddenly drastic.

  He cocks his head. “You agreed to a three-month stay. If you leave before then, we can take legal action.”

  Panic grips my throat, my mind flashing back to what was on those pages. What the hell did I sign?

  I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts his eyes to his desk drawer. “That part was on page three.” I sit back, wounded. “You signed a contract. You agreed to come here every day, Monday through Friday, except, of course, if Collette is unwell or you are unwell since you have sick days built into your salary. If you leave, we can file a complaint.” He leans forward. “And there’s more.

  “You also signed a strict confidentiality clause—page four, section eight. The reason you’ve never heard of us is because we’ve done everything in our power to keep this family issue private. It is vitally important that it remains so. The previous nannies are under a gag order, as are you. One word to betray our trust and we will bring down the hammer on you. Your family too.”

  A clamor shakes the inside of my belly. He can’t be serious.

  “A conference room full of lawyers will descend on you before you know what’s hit you.” Jesus. He is serious. And my breath holds, my stomach churning in vicious flip-flops. “We go to these great lengths not to frighten you or be monsters, but to keep this private, not just for our family’s reputation and the effect it would have on my father’s business—a business I am very much involved with and stand to inherit one day—but for Collette’s health. To keep her happy.”

  He stops, looking me square in the eye to make sure I’m paying attention, as if I haven’t been frightened into hanging on every word. “If we even attempt to explain to Collette that Patty is gone, she threatens to take her own life. So we don’t risk it. Because she’s tried everything: razors, liquid bleach, pills, you name it. She walked out in front of a car once that left her with three cracked ribs and a broken arm.” I suck in my breath. “Private institutions in Sweden. Hospital sanctuaries in Canada. A private island where she was flown by helicopter. We didn’t see her for months.” He sighs, a rattled breath that shakes his body.

  No wonder Collette had spoken about the doctor that way. He’s a worm of a man.

  The doctor is here when Collette needs him, not Patty.

  “So you keep her here instead?” I ask. “No more hospitals?” I think about the fact there is no nurse on-site, unless Pauline has been trained in first aid. But I suppose, along with Freddie and Stephen, there are enough of them here to care for her. And I guess that’s my job now too. Keeping Collette calm.

  “No hospitals,” Stephen confirms. “Not if we can help it. We keep her here, where her conditions can be controlled, where her setting is familiar and routine. And there’s an entire household staff to make sure she’s contained.” He looks gravely at me and points a finger. “That means not leaving. I meant what I said to you earlier about keeping her inside, that all play activities should take place right here in this apartment. It’s vitally important. She is not to leave ever. Leaving could risk her having another breakdown or exposing the truth.” He shakes his head. “It would be a nightmare if it got out, and people would gossip. Under no circumstances can she leave the twelfth floor.”

  “So none of the neighbors know?” I ask.

  “That’s why we keep the penthouse with the entire top of the building to ourselves. Nobody to hear her or accidentally see her. If she has to make a public appearance for my father’s business or if there’s a company outing or a hospital board meeting—and fortunately, those occur rather infrequently these days—we allow Collette to attend but only to show her face. When she’s out, she goes with a whole team
of us surrounding her and providing extra control.” He nods at me. “You’ll be part of those efforts too, of course. But again, those outings will not occur often if I can help it.”

  “But people know about the death of her child, right?” I ask. “They remember her having Patty. They remember the girl dying, even if it was a long time ago. There was a funeral?”

  “We kept it very private. Patty was so little, she stayed home and hadn’t yet started school. And when she got sick, we treated her here. Nurses and the nanny staying around the clock to help Collette in every way they could. And when she died…” He coughs softly, turning his head so I won’t see the tears. “We kept that private too. The funeral was swift and sparse. Closed casket.”

  He sinks back in his chair, looking exhausted and beaten down. While I’m still furious, it occurs to me the lengths this man has gone to to prevent his stepmother from killing herself. I don’t like how he’s doing it but he’s trying to protect her. Helping his father. Bringing in nanny after nanny, possibly delivering this very sad speech over and over again. Not to mention dealing with his own grief at losing his sister.

  I sit back. “Stephen—” I begin to protest.

  But his voice rises suddenly. “We’ll pay your rent.”

  My eyebrows shoot up.

  “We’ll pay your rent for as long as you’re here. Even past the three-month mark if you agree to stay longer.”

  I’m speechless.

  “Stay,” he says. One part commanding, one part begging. “Stay and you’ll earn more money than you ever have before. A break in rent too. How can you pass something like that up?”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “Look, Sarah,” he says, clearing his throat. “My sister died. It was tragic, and we moved on—well, most of us, that is, except for Collette. And because of her we’re stuck in this time warp, it’s as simple as that. That’s why you’re here.” He rests his forearms on the desk, looking at me head-on. “So here’s the deal: this isn’t easy on any of us but it’s something we must do. We each have our jobs and yours includes being a nanny. You keep your mouth shut to family and friends. You don’t ask neighbors or go nosing around for information. If you play by the rules, everything should be simple. Because I meant it when I said this would be a piece of cake. You only need to show up each day and twiddle your thumbs. There’s no kid to chase after. No messes to clean up. You’re here to keep Collette from second-guessing. You’re taking on the job of—”