A Nanny for Keeps

by Liz Fielding

  ‘Well, Mr Talbot, I can only apologise for imposing on your hospitality in this way, but, since it’s going to take a while to sort out this mess and disturbing you seems inevitable, I wonder if I could possibly impose on you for a cup of tea?’ She waited for him to assure her that it would be no trouble. When this didn’t happen, she added, ‘While I go and sort out Maisie.’ Then, ‘Or maybe you’d rather I left you to sort her out on your own while I go and catch my plane.’

  ‘You can’t leave her here with me.’

  Well, no. Obviously she couldn’t do that. But was he simply uttering the panic-stricken response of a child-phobic male? Or did he know what he was talking about?

  She had to admit that he didn’t sound panic-stricken. On the contrary, he sounded like a man who knew his own mind and spoke it without fear or favour. Whether he knew or cared about child-protection regulations, they weren’t an issue for him; he was simply telling her the way it was.

  ‘You are the only close family member immediately available,’ she pointed out. It made no difference, of course; she couldn’t leave Maisie in his care without Selina Talbot’s explicit authority. Unlike a completely irresponsible mother, the agency couldn’t just dump the child and run.

  This was a ‘hold until relieved’ situation but, with luck—and she was surely due a little luck—he might not realise that and there was a heartening pause while he appeared to weigh up the alternatives.

  Then, with something that might have been a shrug, he said, ‘Indian or China?’

  She just about managed to keep the ‘gotcha’ smile from her face as she said, ‘Indian, please. This is definitely a moment for bracing and cheerful, rather than fragrant and refined, don’t you think?’

  She didn’t hang around to find out if he agreed. Instead, having first taken the precaution of turning round so that she could look where she was going, she headed up the stairs in search of her charge.

  Maisie, hands on hips, tights in a wrinkled heap around her ankles, scowled at her from the bathroom doorway. ‘Where have you been? I’ve been waiting hours!’

  ‘Actually it was minutes, but if you’d waited for me instead of disappearing—’

  ‘I told you I had to go!’

  ‘I know you did,’ she said, more gently. ‘But don’t disappear on me again, OK?’ Then, when there was no response, ‘Maisie?’

  ‘OK,’ she muttered.

  ‘I mean it.’

  ‘OK! I heard you, all right?’

  ‘All right.’

  And hopefully, having established that simple ground rule, she tugged Maisie’s tights into place, then, while the child was washing her hands, took advantage of Talbot’s grudging invitation to help herself to his towels, dabbing at the bits of herself that had been exposed to the elements. With luck her clothes would dry out in the warmth of the kitchen and she wouldn’t catch pneumonia but, the way her day was going, she wasn’t counting on it.

  ‘OK, Maisie, let’s go and see if we can sort this mess out.’

  ‘What mess?’

  ‘Well, your grandmother isn’t here…’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘I heard,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t matter. I can stay here until my mother comes home. I’ve got a room of my own, you know, in one of the towers. It was decorated especially for me. The walls are mauve and the curtains are lace and it looks out over the paddock where the pony and the donkeys live.’ Then, ‘The pony’s mine.’

  ‘Really? I had a little pony when I was your age.’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘Mmm. My Little Pony was the one called Applejack. She was the orange one, with apples painted on her bottom.’

  Maisie regarded her with pity. ‘My pony is real. His name is Fudge. Would you like to meet him?’

  ‘I don’t think there’s going to be time, Maisie. The thing is you need more than a room—’

  ‘I’ve got more—’

  ‘More than a room and a pony. You need someone to take care of you.’

  ‘There’s Harry…’ Harry? His name was Harry? ‘…and Susan—’

  ‘Susan?’ The giant had a wife? Well…great. If Harry Talbot was married, or even if this woman was his partner, things might just work out. Always assuming Vickie could reach Selina Talbot before she left the country. ‘Who’s Susan?’

  ‘She comes in every morning to clean up and stuff.’

  ‘Oh. Great!’ No! Not great. And, ditching the smile—she had absolutely nothing to smile about—said, ‘Look, Maisie, obviously there’s been some kind of mix-up over the arrangements, but it’s nothing for you to worry about. Mrs Campbell, at the agency, is going to talk to your mother and sort something out.’

  Maisie sighed. ‘She won’t be able to do that. My mother will be on a plane by now and you have to turn off your mobile phone when you’re in a plane.’

  ‘So you do.’

  Bedknobs and broomsticks…

  ‘It’s a total pain, my mother says, but they mess with the electricity and if that gets messed up you can’t watch the movie.’

  ‘I can see the problem.’ Actually, Jacqui was fairly sure that if the ‘electricity’ got messed up you wouldn’t be watching anything ever again, but in view of her own imminent flight decided not to dwell on it. She had enough on her plate without worrying about some idiot deciding to phone home just for the fun of saying ‘I’m on the plane…’. ‘Do you know where your mother is going?’

  ‘Of course. She’s doing a fashion shoot on the Great Wall of China. That’s right on the other side of the world, you know.’

  ‘I had heard.’

  ‘It takes forever to get there, she said.’

  Not exactly forever, but it was certain that Ms Talbot wouldn’t be taking personal calls before tomorrow.

  Maisie looked up at her, eyes huge and very solemn, and said reassuringly, ‘It’s OK. You can stay and look after me.’

  No! No…

  ‘Why don’t we wait and see what Mrs Campbell says?’ she suggested, brushing off the ridiculous notion that this child was in on the conspiracy.

  That was bordering on paranoia.

  Besides, it was not that much more than two hours since her mother had dropped her off at the agency. While normal mortals would need all of that time to get to the airport and check in, she was pretty sure that for people like Selina Talbot time was infinitely more flexible and it was possible that her plane hadn’t yet taken off.

  ‘Don’t you want to look after me?’ Maisie demanded, reclaiming her attention.

  ‘It isn’t a question of what I want,’ she said. In another time, another life—

  Maisie regarded her steadily, her dark eyes wide and innocent, and said, ‘Is it because I’m not my mother’s own little girl? Because I’m a different colour from her?’

  CHAPTER THREE

  JACQUI felt as if all the wind had been knocked out of her.

  The fact that Maisie was black had been the last thing on her mind, but it was possible that her high-profile adoption by the luminous Selina Talbot had exposed her to all kinds of unpleasant remarks from the jealous, or the just plain thoughtless.

  And she’d been so wrapped up in her own problems that she’d allowed herself to be fooled by this little girl’s apparent self-assurance into believing her unaffected by what was happening to her.

  It didn’t matter a damn that the last thing in the world she needed right now was to be responsible for someone else’s child. With her mother flying off on some major assignment and her grandmother on holiday on the other side of the world, it only left the giant to care for her. And that was never going to happen. Maisie needed reassurance and she was going to get it, no matter how it messed up her own plans.

  ‘No, Maisie. It’s got absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you’re adopted,’ she said firmly. ‘It’s simply that—’

  Maisie lifted her head and looked straight into her eyes. ‘I think that’s why Harry doesn’t want me,�
� she said.

  Jacqui was shocked to the core, and her automatic response was, ‘Oh, I’m sure that’s not true.’ But even as she said the words she remembered the way he’d looked at Maisie as she’d waited in the car. His blank, emotionless response. Remembered the way Maisie had slid down in the seat as if to hide from him.

  If she’d given the matter any consideration at all, she’d have assumed that even bad-tempered giants in story books had family feelings…

  OK, so she was family by adoption. Jacqui tried to remember everything she’d read about that. There had been plenty of coverage in the lifestyle magazines at the time, but precious little in the way of detail that she could recall…

  Not that who Maisie was, or where she came from was any excuse for Harry Talbot’s behaviour.

  Harry.

  The name didn’t suit him at all, she decided. It had a warm, cuddly feel to it. It was the name of a man who’d give you a hug when you were miserable, tell you good stories, know the words of every single nursery rhyme. It wasn’t the name of a man who’d reject a little girl because she was adopted…

  Actually, she couldn’t think of a name horrible enough for a man like that and she wanted to hug this little girl so hard… Show her that at least one person in the world cared what happened to her. In other words, a straight-from-the-heart emotional reaction to the situation.

  Not good.

  Fighting it, she folded herself up and, instead of enveloping the child in a hug, sat on the lowest step so that she was level with Maisie. Then, taking her hands, she held them in her own and in the most matter-of-fact voice she could muster, said, ‘Just you listen here, Maisie Talbot. It wouldn’t make one jot of difference to me if you were sky-blue-pink with green hair and purple spots, do you understand?’

  Maisie regarded her steadily for long moments. Then she gave a couldn’t-care-less little shrug and said, ‘OK.’

  Not an overwhelming endorsement of trust, but what did she expect? There were no instant results with children. Trust had to be earned. She’d just have to show the child that she was genuine and, since she suspected that glossing over the situation was not going to impress Maisie one bit, she’d start with the truth.

  ‘You’re a smart girl, so I’m not going to mince words. We’ve got a problem. This is the way it is. The plan was simply for me to bring you here and hand you over to your grandmother. You know that I wasn’t supposed to stay here, not even for a little while, don’t you?’

  She shrugged again, this time staring at her shoes and refusing to meet her gaze. ‘I s’pose.’

  ‘It’s not because I don’t like you, it’s not because you’re black, it’s because I’m supposed to be catching a plane in…’ she glanced at her watch and realised that time was fast running out ‘…well, quite soon.’

  ‘Like my mother.’ It was a flat, expressionless statement that suggested she was someone else who was flying off and abandoning her. Not fair. But then, in Maisie’s shoes, she probably wouldn’t give a hoot about what was fair, either.

  ‘Well, no.’ Nothing like Selina Talbot, who’d be flying first class—probably with a sky bed—and would arrive in Beijing looking a lot fresher and more relaxed than she would after being crammed in like a sardine for three hours on a charter flight. ‘Your mother is working, which is really, really important. I was only going as far as Spain…’ already she was talking about it in the past tense ‘…for a holiday.’

  ‘Oh.’ She seemed momentarily crestfallen, but immediately brightened and said, ‘Do you have to go to Spain? It’s nice having holidays here.’ Then, presumably remembering that Harry was in residence. ‘Usually.’

  ‘I’m sure it is. For you. When your grandma is here.’ Then, because this didn’t seem enough, somehow, ‘And you’ve got your lovely pony to ride.’

  ‘There are loads of other animals. We don’t have any at home because London isn’t a good place for them, but my mother is always rescuing them and sending them here because Grandma has loads of room. There are dogs and cats and chickens and ducks and rabbits…’ Her little face suddenly lit up as she raised her hands in an expansive gesture. ‘Even some donkeys that are worn out from giving children rides on a beach somewhere.’ Then, ‘But if you have to go…’ Her little hands dropped and the bright expression faded. ‘I’ll understand.’

  Double bedknobs…

  ‘Thank you, Maisie, but I’m not going anywhere until you’ve got someone to take care of you, OK?’

  She didn’t look up, but instead jabbed one satin toe into the threadbare carpet. ‘Even if it means you miss your plane?’

  ‘Even if it means I miss my plane,’ she assured her. What choice did she have?

  ‘You promise?’

  I promise.

  Two little words that once uttered to a child must never, ever be broken. Two little words that had to be used with the utmost care and forethought because sometimes it was beyond your power to keep them…

  But Maisie was waiting anxiously for her response and the truth was that she wasn’t going anywhere until she was happy with the arrangements for this child’s care. It wasn’t a lifetime commitment.

  ‘I promise, Maisie.’

  ‘OK.’ Then, ‘And if you can’t find anyone else, you’ll stay and look after me until my mother comes home, won’t you?’

  ‘Did you find everything you needed?’

  Jacqui didn’t think she’d ever be pleased to see Harry Talbot; she wasn’t, but she was very glad of the interruption and she stood up quickly.

  ‘Yes, thank you.’

  ‘You’d better go on through to the kitchen, then and warm up.’ He looked down at the child from his great height and she thought of the men in her own family who would have swooped down, picked her up, made her laugh. ‘Hello, Maisie.’

  Jacqui felt Maisie’s hand creep into hers as she dropped her eyes and said, ‘Hello, Harry.’ Then, ‘Can I see Meg’s puppies?’

  Puppies, rabbits, donkeys and her own special pony. It was easy to see why Maisie wanted to stay here…

  But what had happened to the llama?

  ‘She’s out in the stables. I’m not taking you out there dressed like that.’

  ‘She could change,’ Jacqui said. ‘If you’d be kind enough to fetch her bag in from my car. It’s not locked.’

  Harry Talbot gave her the kind of look that warned her not to take him for a fool and said, ‘I’ll bring the puppies into the kitchen.’ Then, while she was still trying to come up with a response that was fit for the ears of a six-year-old, he turned and walked away.

  But he had made a pot of tea and there was a tempting cut-and-come-again cherry cake on the table. ‘Do you like tea, Maisie? Or would you rather have milk?’

  ‘Tea, please. And some of Susan’s cake.’

  She poured out the tea, adding plenty of milk to Maisie’s cup. Then, as she was cutting the cake, her mobile phone began to ring. It was Vickie.

  She handed Maisie a plate, then, taking the phone into the little office so that she could speak freely, she answered the call.

  ‘OK, Vickie, what gives?’

  ‘I couldn’t raise Selina, but I’ve left a voice mail asking her to get in touch with me urgently. As soon as she does I’ll know what alternative arrangements she wants me to make.’

  ‘Nice try, but according to Maisie her mother is on her way to China. It’ll be tomorrow at the earliest before she’ll be picking up her messages.’

  ‘Oh…’ She let slip a word that no self-respecting nanny would ever use, not even in the privacy of her own room.

  ‘What’s the matter, Vickie? Did you think I wouldn’t find out?’

  ‘I swear I didn’t know where she was going. This was just a simple delivery job.’ Then, ‘China?’

  ‘Where the silk comes from,’ Jacqui replied, just a touch acerbically. ‘She’s going to drape herself over the Great Wall dressed in the kind of clothes that neither of us will ever be able to afford, even in our wildest dre
ams. You must have an emergency contact.’

  ‘Of course I do.’ She cleared her throat. ‘It’s her grandmother. At High Tops.’

  ‘Oh, come on…’

  ‘Honestly!’ Then, ‘Look, I really want you back on my books, you were born to take care of children, but I’m not stupid enough to think that I could trick you into it.’

  ‘Excuse me? So why am I here?’

  ‘OK, I’ll put my hands up to being a little underhand getting you to deliver Maisie. I simply wanted to remind you what you were put on this earth for before you went off to lie on a beach to contemplate your future career path. And I admit I hung on to that package until I had the right job to tempt you—’

  She wished the woman had stuffed it in a drawer and forgotten all about it.

  ‘I could probably sue you,’ she said.

  ‘I’m sorry but I was desperate. I didn’t know how else to make you see that this is what you’re made for, but I’m not a fool. The last thing I want is for you to be so ticked off that you’ll never even talk to me again, let alone work for the agency.’

  ‘Then you’re not doing very well, are you?’

  ‘I can see how it must look, but you have to believe me…’

  She’d think about it, but not now. This was just wasting time.

  ‘So what’s gone wrong? While the perfect mother-and-daughter spreads in the lifestyle mags might be a touch over-the-top, I can’t believe that Selina Talbot is this casual about Maisie. She must have spoken to her mother before despatching the child to stay with her.’

  ‘Frankly? I haven’t a clue. Maybe her secretary or agent or one of an absolute host of minions she employs to deal with the boring details was supposed to have made the arrangements and the wires got crossed somewhere. So who’s at the house now?’

  ‘Selina’s cousin and leaving her with him is not an option. I haven’t seen anyone else although Maisie assures me that there’s a woman who comes in every day to cook and clean.’

  ‘And you have a plane to catch.’