‘You’re a bundle of joy this morning,’ Georgie says.
Milly shrugs. ‘Just saying.’
The Ruffley pram hall was named in the days when the school’s nurses trained using traditional Silver Cross prams, but for some years now these have been replaced by strollers. The latest version is the Monza Imperial Super-Stroller, developed in collaboration with the racing division of Ferrari. A high-performance baby carriage with active suspension technology, full off-road capability and a price-tag in excess of £5,000, the Monza Imperial is the stroller that Ruffley Royal nannies are most likely to encounter in the homes of their employers.
The students file into the pram hall and, one by one, arrange their Stoolman babies in their strollers. Then they proceed with military precision out of the hall, and onto the descending path to Pangbourne. Seeing the line of young women in front of her, all of them straight-backed, all identically coiffed and uniformed, Oxana feels oddly moved. The scene encapsulates the endearing oddness of the British, and she feels a stab of longing for Eve, who is so British and in so many waysnotBritish. Oxana allows a tear to roll down one cheek, moved by the poignancy of her situation, and flicks a glance at Konrad, strapped tightly into the seat of the stroller. His sightless eyes gaze back at her.
Then he starts to vocalise. At first there’s just a low feral growl, then a whining sob, and finally an infuriated, full-throated scream. Alarmed, Oxana looks around her. No one else’s baby is making a sound. Quickly releasing Konrad from his straps, Oxana gathers him up with her right arm while continuing to push the stroller with her left. Aware that Miss Scott is probably able to hear her via some listening device implanted in the baby, Oxana murmurs soothing sounds. Feeling inside Konrad’s nappy with a finger, she encounters dampness. Pulling off the nappy one-handed, she slings it into the stroller’s storage bay. She’s about to fit another to Konrad’s plastic loins when he voids his bladder, fully this time, and a warm stream of synthetic urine soaks Oxana’s regulation shirt and bra. She swears in Russian, and Konrad’s screams turn to gurgling laughter.
Gritting her teeth Oxana completes the task, nudging the stroller along the path with her waist. Behind her, seeing her plight, Georgie slows down. In front of her, Charlotte moves swiftly ahead, so that the line begins to stretch out unevenly. Finally, with Konrad fully dressed, they reach the town, and soon the file of stroller-borne Stoolman babies and Ruffley Royal nannies-to-be is proceeding sedately down Pangbourne High Street. Some of the townspeople stop and stare, but the nanny parade is a daily occurrence, and most pay it little attention. There’s a wet, bubbling sound coming from Konrad’s nappy, but Oxana presses on, ignoring it.
Ahead of her, Charlotte stops at a pedestrian crossing and leans forward to coo at her baby. As she does so a boy on a BMX bike – eighteen, perhaps nineteen – speeds past her, violently wrenches the bag from her shoulder, and races downhill towards the station. Charlotte stares after him, eyes wide with fright and distress, and Oxana doesn’t hesitate. Whirling her stroller around so that it’s facing backwards, she grabs the handlebar,places a foot in the storage basket and kicks off hard in pursuit. As she flies downhill, the Ferrari-engineered suspension smooth beneath her, she quickly gains on the freewheeling BMX.
Its rider hears her and looks back at the precise moment that she leaps at him. He hits the pavement at speed with the BMX beneath him and Oxana clamped to his back like a hawk. He lies there for a moment, groaning, then looks up, his face dripping blood. Oxana forces his head down and chokes him into unconsciousness.
Unhurriedly, she releases Charlotte’s bag from his fist. Beside it on the pavement are a paperback romance novel (Her Frozen Heart), a plastic hair slide, and two light brown bun-nets in cellophane wrappers, which Oxana returns to the bag. Passersby gather round and anxiously examine the fallen cyclist. Oxana ignores them. She herself is unharmed and her uniform barely disarrayed, although her hair and hat need attention.
Georgie and Charlotte hurry towards her, leaving their strollers in the care of Debbie and Milly. Seeing the fallen BMX rider, now just beginning to stir, they both gasp.
‘God, what did you do to him?’ Georgie asks.
‘I got Charlotte’s bag back.’
‘But that guy. There’s blood everywhere. Is he OK?’
‘No idea. Have either of you seen my stroller?’ Oxana hands the bag to Charlotte, who accepts it gratefully, her eyes shining.
‘That was amazing,’ she says, blushing. ‘Actually, Ox,you’repretty amazing.’
‘Your stroller,’ says Georgie, pointing. ‘And your baby.’
The Monza Imperial has upturned ten metres down the hill and is surrounded by a circle of concerned onlookers. The stroller is in one piece, resting against a bollard, but Konrad, who has been thrown clear, is not himself at all. Faecal matter is oozing from his nose and both ears. He appears to be tryingto scream, but although his mouth is working steadily, no sound comes.
‘Don’t touch him,’ an elderly man is saying. ‘His neck might be broken.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Oxana says. ‘It’s mine.’ She picks Konrad up by one leg, to a collective gasp of disapproval, and jams him back in the stroller.
‘Is he all right?’ Charlotte asks.
‘He’s absolutely fine,’ Oxana says. She looks around her, smiling brightly. ‘Trust me, I’m a nanny.’
12
‘Are you ready?’ Philippa asks.
‘I think so,’ Eve says.
‘You’ve bathed?’
‘Yes.’ She tightens the sash of her kimono, which is actually Oxana’s. Whether she took it from the flat by mistake or on purpose she’s not sure. ‘Can I just say something?’
‘You can say anything. Any time.’
‘I’m not trying to get her back. I’m especially not trying to magic her back. I’m trying to find out who I am without her. I want to celebrate that person.’
‘I understand,’ Philippa says.
Late afternoon is becoming early evening, Eve and Philippa are sitting in the front room, and the house is suffused with the rich, dark smell of the fruit cake baking in the kitchen. On the stone floor, Pyewacket stretches and yawns. ‘How long will it take?’ Eve asks.