We sat down in Sheelagh’s homely kitchen as she made us tea and produced a homemade carrot cake. I was very impressed. “Mmmm. I’ll have to get the recipe for this cake from you,” I said after taking a mouthful and savouring it. “This is truly delicious. You could give that one Nigella Lawson a run for her money!”
Beside me, Samira slowly ate her slice of cake but didn’t make any comment about it.
“I used to be a full-time pastry chef before I moved to Ireland,” Sheelagh told me. “Now I work four days a week part-time in a café in Dún Laoghaire. I bake scones and cakes in the back kitchen and the café sells them to the lunchtime crowd. They’re quite popular even though I say so myself!”
“You know, you should really think about selling these to a few places. You could make a fortune.”
Sheelagh gave a little smile. “I might do that. People have said before that I should start my own business, but I’ve never really had the confidence and then . . . well, with my separation and everything . . .”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you were separated.”
A flicker of hurt seemed to flash across her face. Just for a split second. I hoped I wasn’t making her feel uncomfortable. After all, I’d only just met the woman fifteen minutes ago. We were interrupted by somebody coming through the door. It was obviously Claudine. She rushed over to me and shook my hand. Then she shook Samira’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” she said, brimming with goodwill. She was a little out of breath from her run and her cheeks were slightly rosy. She was tall and slender with glossy hair tied back in a high ponytail and looked the picture of good health.
“Have some cake,” Sheelagh offered.
“Thank you, but maybe later,” Claudine answered sweetly. She went to the sink and poured herself a glass of tap water. “I think I might have an apple instead.”
Sheelagh and myself exchanged glances. It was obvious the lovely Claudine minded her figure well. No wonder she was as slim as a whippet!
As Claudine was drinking her water we could hear Lisa starting to cry in the next room. Quick as a flash she put down her glass. “You stay there,” she told Sheelagh, “and I’ll get her up.”
She was so different from Samira, I thought. So far, Samira was always looking to me for direction – it was rare that she showed initiative. The next moment Claudine was
back in the kitchen cradling little Lisa in her arms. I couldn’t take my eyes off the little girl – she was so beautiful with huge blue eyes underneath long black eyelashes.
“Wow! She’s going to be such a stunner when she grows up! A supermodel in the making!” I laughed.
“Aw, thanks. She gets those Irish blue eyes from her daddy. I wonder if she’ll be a charmer like him too?”
John seemed delighted to see somebody else as small as himself and reached out to little Lisa.
“Why don’t you girls take the babies into the playroom?” said Sheelagh. “There’s lots of cuddly toys on the play mat for them, and you can get to know each other too.”
Claudine said she thought it was a great idea. Samira stood up and I handed John to her. Once they were gone I turned to Sheelagh. “Claudine’s a star,” I said. “What a find!”
“I know. I’m so lucky to have her. I hope she stays with us for a good while longer. I’ll have to bribe her if she ever tries to leave! So, how long have you had Samira? She seems quiet. Is she shy?”
“Only a few days. It’s hard to read her. I mean, she’s being very quiet here but maybe that’s because she’s shy in front of you and Claudine. But she does keep to herself a lot to be honest, and yet she is always asking me unnecessary questions. I don’t know whether that’s her trying to practise her English, or whether she genuinely is a bit clueless.”
“You should read to her in the evenings, maybe even for a half an hour or so. Just to help her with her English. I do that with Claudine and I explain the words she doesn’t understand. She really appreciates it.”
“I did try that once but she wasn’t very bothered. I don’t think she really enjoys being a child minder to be honest. She was working for another family before she came to live with us and she didn’t get on with them. Mind you, I’m not really surprised about that. They sounded absolutely awful.”
“Well, remember you’re only hearing her side of the story. They might not have been that bad.”
“I know, but they really seemed to have been taking her for granted. I don’t agree with abusing au pairs. We were all young once, and it can be scary moving to a new country
without your safe network of friends and family.”
Sheelagh sighed. “It’s difficult to find the right girl. Before Claudine came along I had an American girl who ran up huge phone bills and ate me out of house and home. I couldn’t afford to keep her. I’m so lucky I found Claudine.”
“Did you go through an agency for her?”
“Well, no, actually – my sister-in law told me that her au pair had a friend in France who wanted to come to Dublin and learn English so she asked me if she could forward Claudine’s CV to me for consideration. I have to say her CV was more than impressive. Claudine was head girl in her school, played junior tennis at national level and is studying child psychology.”
I gulped. Suddenly I felt absolutely awful. I had never asked Samira for a CV. I didn’t even know if she had ever gone to school or had a single hobby. Oh, God, did that make me the worst employer ever? I sensed a sort of shame creeping over me. I should have demanded a CV from Samira. Then again, she was only eighteen. I doubt she’d ever had a real job before coming to Ireland. “So I liked the look of her CV,” Sheelagh continued, now getting up to put the empty teacups in the dishwasher, “and then when I checked with both her referees, I was absolutely convinced that this girl was going to be the right one for our family.”
Okay, now I felt sick. I hadn’t asked Samira for any references. Sheelagh had phoned two people. She had obviously wanted to be doubly sure of who she was hiring. Sheelagh was a good mother and I was not. I really did feel bad about myself. Samira could have been a school drop-out or a social delinquent, yet I had chosen to put her in charge of the person I was supposed to love more than anyone else in the whole world. I was not fit to be anybody’s mum. Sheelagh then looked over at me. “So how did you find Samira?”
“Um . . . she had put up an ad in the supermarket and I just happened to come across it.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, at least you didn’t have to pay an agency fee. They can be pretty hefty.”
“Yeah, I know.”
I squirmed in my chair. Suddenly I wanted to get out of there and hide away somewhere I could mentally give myself a kick. This woman obviously thought I was too stingy to go through a proper nanny agency that would probably have produced a golden girl who had won all sorts of medals and could speak five different languages and maybe was in her final year of medicine or something.
“Gosh, I never even asked you if you would like another cup of tea! I just cleared the cups away without even thinking. That’s my baby brain at work now. I’m sorry for being rude. I can put the kettle on again if you like?”
“Oh no, I’m fine honestly. Actually, is it okay if I use your bathroom, please?”
“Sure, it’s just in the hall under the stairs.”
As soon as I closed the door behind me I took a deep breath. Sheelagh’s little cloakroom, like the rest of this house, was immaculate. The floor looked like it had been polished, the white hand towel was soft and luxurious, and a brand-new Molton Brown liquid soap and hand lotion perched on top of the sink. How did she have her house so perfect? Why did she have the nicest au pair ever? And why was I being so pathetic as to compare myself unfavourably to a practical stranger? Stop it, I chided myself. Seriously, get a grip. You can only do your best. Samira may never be runner-up for best au pair in the world but there’s nothing wrong with her. You make it work.
I splashed some cold water on my face and then washed my h
ands. I was almost afraid to wipe them on the fluffy white towel afterwards.
“Well, the girls seem to be getting on great,” beamed Sheelagh when I came back into the kitchen. “I just popped my head in the door and they’re laughing and chatting like old friends.”
“Really?” I was surprised. I’m not sure if that small revelation was supposed to make me feel better or worse.
“You must come over again. Or maybe we could go over to you? What do you think?”
“Yeah, brilliant, any time!’
“Maybe Claudine can take Samira and little John to the mummy and baby yoga classes in the town?”
“Mummy and baby yoga?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Yup, the classes are held twice a week there on the main street above that café that recently opened. I’ve gone a couple of times but half the grown-ups that attend are au pairs as the mummies don’t have time to go. I’d say Samira would love it!’
I wasn’t so sure about that but I said I’d suggest the idea to her anyway. To be honest I wasn’t really sure if herself and the bubbly Claudine would become pally, but I hoped that Sheelagh and myself would become firm friends. I admired her and I wanted to know her more. Hopefully she would be a positive role model for me.
CHAPTER FOUR
You know when you’re so tired you can’t even speak properly, never mind being able to remember things or even think of anything besides crawling back to bed? Well, that’s what it’s like having a new baby. It’s like working through the night, only worse. Because if you’re
a shift worker, or indeed if you’ve even been out all night partying, you know that sleep will be yours soon. You count the hours until you can crawl under the duvet and block out the world. When you’ve a newborn, that much anticipated moment never comes. Night after night is lost in a fog of tiredness. And there is no overtime pay. No pat on the back. Just more of the same for the next few months.
And now I have no Samira to help share the load. She’s gone. Yes, Samira left citing homesickness. Even though I was little taken aback when I realised she was going, it’s
a sort of relief to be honest. Don’t get me wrong, she was a nice enough girl, and I could have done a lot worse, but she really hadn’t made any effort to integrate with
myself and John and she wasn’t able to use her initiative at all. I mean every couple of minutes she’d be knocking on my bedroom door, asking questions. Where are John’s
nappies? Where is the sweeping brush? What time are we having tea? Have you seen my phone? It was enough to drive me around the bend! And she seemed to have quite a
bad Facebook addiction too. She was never off the frigging laptop. I mean, what was she writing about all day? Me? I dread to think. Maybe she was telling her friends that she
was having a really boring time in Ireland with an overweight single mum. Who knows?
She completely surprised me too. After all, I had no idea she was unhappy. And then one night after I had retired to my room she pushed a short note under my door telling me she would be leaving the next day. Anyway, she has gone now. And once more I find
myself without any childminder. The first thing I did when she left was open the window in her room as she had never once opened it during her stay. Now I’ve completely cleared out her room and given it a good scrubbing and an airing. I want it to look nice and cosy
and welcoming before the next girl arrives. Of course I would really love to keep it as a nursery for Baby John and fill it with cute bunnies and teddies, and paint it sky blue, but I am broke, and anyway I don’t even know if the landlord would allow me to paint the walls. So the
way things are we have to manage the best we can with John’s cot in my room.
I need to get another minder so the search goes on. I’m going to go for an older girl this time. An older girl will be mature and should have experience with children. Samira was only eighteen years of age and I felt she was a bit nonplussed with Baby John. She sometimes even sighed when I asked her to do simple tasks like putting out the bin or hanging the washing on the drying rail. She wasn’t the tidiest of people either and a few times I had to reprimand her for leaving her dirty dishes in the sink for me to wash up. Sometimes I used to think she’d come to Ireland for a rest!
An older girl will hopefully not be moping around the place waiting for something exciting to happen, and not be addicted to using social-networking sites. Maybe I could get an Irish nanny-type from down the country that would go home every weekend? I think a situation like that might suit better actually. First of all, an Irish girl wouldn’t be homesick and, second of all, I wouldn’t mind having the place to myself at the weekends just in case I ever meet a man again. I know, I know, but miracles do happen sometimes, and I don’t think I could get too passionate if I knew the au pair was in the room next door.
I actually have an ad running on the internet right at this minute. I put it up a while ago and included a small photo of myself and John. So, yes, the ad is live. I’m so short of cash right now I can’t even afford to go through an agency. The ad is up on one of those free buy-and-sell sites. I hope it doesn’t seem too dodgy to be looking for Miss Right online. I have all my fingers and toes crossed that I get somebody compatible with us, and also fun. Samira wasn’t fun but she was very trustworthy which of course is the most important thing. And at least she didn’t go out drinking like other girls do. I mean you hear some horror stories. Young Brazilians, apparently, party until dawn when they come over here to mind
children!
I made a list in advance. I wanted to be clear about what I needed this time. So here are my ten commandments. My wish list for my very own Mary Poppins is that she
must:
1. Smile a lot. I feel this is important. If you smile at a baby he or she will naturally smile back. Anyway, I don’t want a grumpy puss around the house. It’s bad enough being broke without someone glaring at me all the time in my own home.
2. Have shortish hair. Okay, I know that sounds bizarre but Samira had hair way down her back and insisted on washing it every morning. It meant she was hogging the bathroom for at least forty minutes every morning using up all the hot water. Then, to add insult to injury, she’d leave long dark hairs in the bath for me to retrieve from the plughole after she was finished. That’s why this time I’m looking for somebody with medium to short hair. Preferably a skinhead!
3. Be thinnish. Now I know this is quite an un-PC thing to say and, believe me, I am quite a large lady myself, but I’d like the new girl to be slim and fit. If she’s slim she’s probably watching her weight and won’t eat me out of house and home. She will also have plenty of energy to take John out for long walks in the pram which will be nice because at least then I’ll have some ‘me’ time to read a chapter of my book or take a warm bubble bath. These are two treats that I used to take for granted in my pre-baby days and now I miss them both like hell! You wouldn’t catch me out clubbing on a Saturday night off. Hell, no! A bath and a book and I’m as happy as Larry. So anyway, I don’t want a huge au pair. If
she’s thin she might inspire me to lose the baby weight of which I have lost none so far. At least if there’s a skinny bitch walking around the house, I might be shamed into not devouring a packet of chocolate biscuits all in one go.
4. Not be mega-popular. I don’t mean she should have no friends at all in a weird, loner/loser type way. But she shouldn’t have hundreds of giggling pals coming and going. I don’t want the baby waking up with strangers ringing the doorbell all hours of the day and night wondering whether the au pair is coming out to play. She can have one or two friends, that’s no problem. Preferably nice, quiet girls who like knitting or something. Oh God, it really is such a big undertaking to have a complete stranger come live with you in your own home! The last thing I need is to be worrying about somebody who’s out clubbing until all hours in
a pair of hot pants. No party animals need apply.
5. Must be independent. I’d li
ke a girl who takes initiative and isn’t asking me all day what she should be doing next. I’d like her to get the baby up, bathed and dressed in the mornings without me having to tell her to do it. I’d like her to surprise me with a nice cup of tea now and then.
6. Clean. Okay, so I’m not going to be asking her to scrub the floors or clean the windows but she needs to be neat and tidy and not leave dishes in the sink. A friend of mine employed a girl recently who would leave the dishes in the sink on her day off expecting my friend to wash up after her. Honestly, you couldn’t make it up!
7. Non-smoker. I confess I used to be a smoker. I had a filthy twenty-a-day habit. I would wake up in a fog of smoke and go to sleep in one too. There were at least two or three permanently overflowing ashtrays dotted around our old flat as myself and Sally chain smoked the evenings away. I remember once waking up at 3.00 a.m. and panicking because I couldn’t find a cigarette. I actually rang a taxi to go down to the local garage and pick up a packet for me. Of course when I got pregnant I gave up immediately. Now I’m one of those really annoying non-smokers who shoo other people’s smoke away if they’re standing smoking in a bus shelter beside me. That’s how anti-smoking I am now. I couldn’t bear to have a smoker in the house.
8. Quiet. Oh, how I do love the sound of golden silence. Of course I am very much aware of the impracticality of longing for a quiet, noise-free home with a six-month baby, but when John goes to sleep at night I like to curl up with a book and get lost in another world. Before I had my baby I’d say I read three or four books a week. Now I find it hard even to get the book for my monthly book club read. Reading is probably the last form of entertainment I
can afford so, therefore, if somebody was listening to a loud TV or radio in the next room I think it would drive me crazy. Maybe I should seek an au pair who also likes to read and we can swap books or something? Now, there’s an idea.
Secret Nanny Club Page 4