CVPD 01 – The Thirteenth Nanny
By: Alison Burnston
ISBN: 978-1-877546-69-3
All rights reserved
Copyright © Aug. 2009, Alison Burnston
Cover Art Copyright © Aug 2009, Brightling Spur
Bluewood Publishing Ltd
Christchurch, 8042, New Zealand
www.bluewoodpublishing.com
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.
No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Bluewood Publishing Ltd.
Special Note: This book contains UK Spellings.
Dedication
To my friends and family for their unstinting support, to the writing groups and clubs that have helped with constructive criticism and to my partner for being there when I needed him most.
Thanks too to the people at Bluewood Publishing for taking me on.
The Thirteenth Nanny
“Well, Miss Scott, you certainly come with excellent references.”
“Thank you.”
Lisa acknowledged the compliment from the man sitting opposite her. His deep, resonant, sexy voice carried all the overtones of a man used to getting his own way, his orders going unquestioned. He had the film star looks to go with it, just as his wife did, perched, almost daintily on the couch next to him. She’d said very little, content to allow him to take the lead. Lisa had found that a little strange – usually it was the wife who interviewed for the nanny – but clearly not in this household. Instead, Mrs. Bannerman had simply sat there, staring at Lisa with her pale green eyes, a piercing gaze that seemed to be trying to find all her innermost hidden secrets.
“You can start immediately, Miss Scott?”
Lisa dragged her attention back to Mr. Bannerman. Not that it was difficult. He dominated the large room like very few men were capable of doing, the sense of his presence more than just overwhelming.
“Yes sir. I simply need to pack, fetch my bag from the hotel and check out. If I’m going to be working here, please call me Lisa.”
The head of the household nodded.
“Good. I will get Michael to take you to the hotel and wait for you to bring you back here. Then my wife will show you to your room, and introduce you to little Geran, your charge.”
“Thank you again sir, I hope he and I will get along very well together.”
Mr. Bannerman rose to his feet, fluidly, gracefully, almost cat like. Realising the interview was over, Lisa also rose, smoothing her dark blue skirt down over her legs, the skirt long enough to modestly cover her knees even when she was sitting.
“Ah, here’s Michael now. Michael, please take this young lady to . . .”
He turned to look enquiringly at her, one eyebrow raised in question.
“The Millbrook Motel, on Fifth.”
“You know it, Michael?”
The huge black man, clearly the family chauffeur, nodded his head.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Take her to collect her things, and then bring her back to Stephanie. Lisa is our new nanny. Lisa this is Michael, our driver and security man. If you have any problems, you can count on him. We all do, don’t we, Michael?”
“Yes, sir.”
Lisa caught the way the bodyguard cum chauffeur looked at his employer, there was a strange yet heady mix of admiration and loathing there. Mr. Bannerman seemed impervious to the man’s feelings, turning back to Lisa.
“I hope you’ll be happy here, Lisa. I have to go away on business this afternoon and will be away for a couple of days. I’m sure Stephanie will be able to sort out any issues you may have.”
“I’m sure of it, Mr. Bannerman. Everything will be fine and I can’t wait to meet Geran.”
She nodded to her new employers and followed Michael out of the room. She noticed how silently he moved. He didn’t have the grace of his employer – he was too large – but he had a style and panache all his own.
* * * *
Over the next two weeks, Lisa decided her two and a half year old charge was a bundle of live wires. It took a lot of effort to get him to take an afternoon nap each day but, when he was calm, he was a little cherub. When he got excited, that was an entirely different matter. Being only two and a half, he, of course, got very excited very easily and, of course, very often. She was trying to interest him in helping tidy up the nursery with the usual lack of success when the door opened and the boy’s father strode into the room.
“Dadda!”
Geran screamed out the word and dashed on his sturdy little legs across the room toward Mr. Bannerman as fast as they would carry him. Two thirds of the way, he tripped over part of his wooden toy train and fell headlong. Immediately, he started wailing, although Lisa could clearly tell from the timbre of his cry, he was shocked rather than actually hurt. Instead of reaching for his son to provide some comfort, the patriarch of the household stared at her.
“Keeping the floor clear would certainly prevent this kind of incident.”
Ignoring his son’s despairing wail, he turned on his heel and stalked back out the door, closing it firmly behind him. With a sigh, Lisa retrieved her sobbing charge from his sprawled position on the floor and cradled him softly to her chest.
“There, there little one. You’ll see daddy later. You’ll be fine.”
Slowly, the little boy’s sobs faded away and he held onto her for comfort, but not before she’d noticed the way his eyes had changed colour at the mention of his father. For an instant, they’d flashed bright red before fading back to their natural colour. As she rocked him gently, calming him, she thought about the strangely, dysfunctional family she was working for. Mr. Bannerman brooked no disorder in his household, ruling it with perfect charm to disguise an iron will, but ruling it none the less. His wife was almost invisible most of the time, submissively self-effacing, a perfect foil for her husband. The enigmatic driver cum bodyguard was rarely seen inside the house, the three of them leaving Lisa alone with the child most of the time.
* * * *
Another week went by. Lisa was constantly busy looking after the boisterous child, but not too busy to notice the slight incremental changes in both his appearance and his behaviour. Geran became increasingly tetchy, irritated by the slightest thing that didn’t go his way. He was more tired than previously, yet it was harder to get him to go to sleep. Both the parents remained unconcerned when she brought it to their attention, leaving her to cope with the increasingly wayward behaviour and deteriorating physical health of her charge. The crunch came on the Friday evening. Geran was fitful, restless and unable to sleep. Nervously, she knocked on the door to the master suite where she knew the Bannermans were getting ready to go out. A moment later, Stephanie opened the door to her.
“Yes?”
The beautiful mistress of the house looked more stunning than Lisa had ever seen her. The silver cocktail dress glittered in the lamp light and it fit her perfectly. When she turned round to face back into the room in answer to her husband’s interrogative cough, Lisa realised the dress was also backless showing off the woman’s flawless skin.
“It’s Geran. I don’t think he’s very well.”
Before she could answer her husband, the door was suddenly grabbed from Stephanie’s hand and jerked wide open by Mr. Bannerman himself.
“He’s fine. It’s a touch of hay fever. He gets this way often.”
“He won’t settle, sir.�
�
“Well, when this has happened before, the previous nannies have stayed in the room with him, there’s a pull out mattress under his bed as I’m sure you are aware. By morning, he will be fine. Trust me in this. He’ll be fine if you do as I say.”
Lisa noticed the look that passed between the husband and wife but held her peace.
“Don’t you agree, darling?”
“Oh yes. Absolutely.”
“There you are, Lisa. Problem solved. Now, if you don’t mind, we need to finish getting ready. If his condition worsens, you have my cell number. Don’t be afraid to call us.”
Mr. Bannerman firmly shut the door in her face leaving Lisa with no options. She was being dismissed and his last statement nothing but a palpable lie. She returned with a heavy heart to the nursery, sure now, in her own mind, how the night was going to play out. Geran looked up at her sullenly when she opened the door.
“How would you like me to spend the night in here with you Geran? Since you’re not feeling very well.”
The little boy’s face lit up.
“Weally?”
Lisa nodded.
“Come on. You can help me slide the mattress out and make up the bed.”
“Gweat!”
* * * *
The little boy had been restless all evening, excitement at his nanny staying in the same room as himself warring with the exhaustion his illness was bringing on. Lisa watched him carefully, noticing the way his eyes seemed to change colour, from their more normal pale blue, to dark red, almost black and back. As she watched him play or sat with him with a story book or watching the television, she could sense the way the undeveloped muscles under his skin here tense, coiled almost.
Somehow, she eventually managed to persuade Geran to go to bed, helped him get ready, his navy blue pj’s covered with pictures of light brown fluffy teddy bears seemed somehow incongruous to her, but she held her peace. He cuddled into her supporting arm as she read a final story to him from one of his favourite books, then she slowly, carefully, slid out from beside him as his eyes drooped and then closed.
Lisa smiled as he began to quietly snore, dropping off quickly into the sleep his body needed but he’d fought so hard to prevent. She checked the clock. It was still short of ten o’clock. Geran’s parents wouldn’t be home for at least four hours yet. Stretching the kinks out of her back, she padded softly over to the on-suite and, closing the door without latching it, readied herself for bed too. Her bright crimson silk pj’s fit her loosely, belting across her slim waist, accentuating her figure without revealing much of the muscle structure underneath. Quietly moving back into the boy’s bedroom, she pulled the top sheet back and slipped inside Lisa lay on her back, listening to the even breathing of her charge and waiting for the night to unfold. She allowed her eyes to close and despite her heightened awareness drifted off into a light sleep.
* * * *
Lisa’s eyes flew open. Something had altered within the room, she wasn’t certain what, but something had clearly changed. Silently, she turned her head to the side. The bright green numerals on the digital clock to the side showed one-oh-nine, three hours after she’d gone to bed. A moment later, she homed in on the change that had awakened her. She could no longer hear the regular breathing of her charge. Clearly Geran was no longer asleep, or at least, not as deeply as he had been. She was lying on her back, both arms above the sheet, which in any case had moved in her sleep so her chest was no longer covered by it. Slowly, her night vision returned as her mind cleared the final vestiges of sleep. Near her head, something moved; a darker shadow than the surrounding blackness. There was only one thing it could be - Geran. With startling speed, Geran pounced, clearly aiming to catch her still asleep and effectively defenceless. Her vision centred on his face, watched his gleeful open-mouthed expression change to a look of slack-jawed shock as her answering spring met him in mid-air. The two pirouetted around each other as Lisa grabbed his arm and half threw him past her toward the foot of her bed.
He tumbled, half wrapped in the sheet, and thudded to the floor as he skidded uncontrollably off the end of the pull-out mattress. It took less than a second for the surprisingly agile, and now very angry, little boy to untangle himself from the sheet and rise to his feet. However fast he was, Lisa was faster still. She was standing now, clear of the bed, watching him intently. His mouth opened again, this time in a snarl and she could clearly see his elongated incisors glistening in the faint glow from the night light.
“Ah, I see you need to feed, little one.”
“Feed, yeah!”
Geran launched himself at her again, from a standing start, jumping straight towards her, moving impossibly fast for an adult human, let alone a toddler. Lisa needed no further evidence to tell her exactly what had happened to her unlucky predecessors. Her mind jolted into overdrive as her body moved instinctively and just as rapidly as his, to avoid him. He flashed past her, unable to catch onto her with his hands rigidly shaped into claws. One fingernail snagged the belt of her pj’s, almost severing the fragile silk.
“Careful, Geran, these are expensive.”
She grinned at him, her lips peeling back to expose her teeth, almost as feral as Geran in the dim light, as her own incisors lowered into place. Geran looked at her quizzically, panting as he sought to catch his breath from his exertions. Without warning, he launched himself at her once more. This time, she chose not to sidestep him, instead catching his outstretched arm, dropping smoothly to the floor underneath him and using his own momentum to throw him over her to land with a harsh, boneless thud on the floor.
“Daddy dearest hasn’t taught you that move, has he, little one.” She taunted him.
“I want nanny! I want nanny food!”
The tiny child threw himself at her again, clearly tiring from both his hunger and also the constant pummelling his body was taking from the one-sided fight. He charged three more times, and each time she responded in a similar fashion, meeting him and using his own trajectory to her advantage.
Finally, he crouched on the corner of his own bed, winded, clearly confused, unable to understand what was happening. Having demonstrated her own superiority in a situation the child had expected to win, and win easily, Lisa went on the attack. Moving at her maximum speed, she crossed the intervening space, well before Geran could realise she was coming, and pinned his arms to his sides, exposing his neck to her own teeth. Geran gaped at the sight of the half inch long incisors rapidly approaching his face and, for the first time, let his fear show.
“No ! Nanny, no!”
His scream echoed around the room, followed by sobs that wracked his body. All resistance faded and she knew at that moment she’d won, as she slowly withdrew her face from the position she could have launched the killing stroke from. Footsteps pounded down the hall outside, clearly the child’s screams had been heard beyond the confines of the bedroom. The door crashed open, the light searing into the room causing Lisa to blink.
Phillip Bannerman stood outlined against the light, before flicking on the light switch to reveal his own face contorted into a snarl of hatred at least as feral as his son’s had been minutes earlier. Obviously, the couple were home ahead of the time they’d told her earlier.
“Not quite the sight you expected to see is it. . . sir?”
She’d paused to give her question and his title the insolence she wanted to communicate to the powerful man. She watched, a sardonic smile playing gently across her face as he took in the scene in front of him, a scene totally at odds with what she knew he expected to find, the lifeless body of another nanny, covered in the blood his son had fed from.
“Why you . . .”
He began to advance deliberately and powerfully across the room toward her, but stopped when he realised she was still too close to his son, who could easily become a casualty if he attacked, confusion still on his face as he saw Lisa perched on the end of the bed, seemingly unconcerned, still smiling at him.
Un
derneath, though, Lisa was ready for anything, her muscles tensed for action. Slowly, to demonstrate her own intentions were not for combat, she reached into the top pocket of her pj’s and withdrew a small back folder, about three inches by four inches. She held it up, still closed, and watched his eyes track it as she slowly, deliberately let the outer flap drop to reveal the gleaming silver object inside. There was movement behind him as he stared goggled eyed at what she was holding as Stephanie Bannerman, accompanied by their driver cum bodyguard, crowed into the doorway behind him.
“I’m sorry, Phillip Bannerman, but I have to tell you, you are under arrest for the wilful murder of twelve young women in this house and, unless I am mistaken, in this very room. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights?”
She looked at him, then glanced past at the frozen expressions of shock on the faces of the other two.
“I’m afraid that applies to the two of you two, as well, at least in terms of willing accomplices.”
She repeated the Miranda warning to each of them.
“Now are you all going to come quietly or do you want to make a scene?”
“Get her!”
Phillip Bannerman gestured to the two behind him and all three began to crouch prior to attacking. Lisa laughed softly.
“I know you’re a level three Phillip, but Stephanie hardly registers as a level one, Michael is only a level two. The scale says it all, and I’m a level six. I didn’t hurt little Geran because that’s not my style, but I can take the three of you down without breaking a sweat and you know it. The CVPD does not employ anyone less than a level five, after all, and you know that very well. So, back off and back down!”
“What about my baby?”
Stephanie’s anguished plea diffused the tension in the room as she stepped around her husband, her fear of both Lisa and her husband obviously warring with her desire to comfort her still sobbing child.
The 13th Nanny Page 1