At this, they peel themselves off the sofa and leave the room with scowls and mutters of ‘it’s not fair.’
‘Can I get you a tea or coffee, Diane?’ I offer.
‘No thank you, I can’t stay.’ But she makes no move to get up from the sofa so I sit on the one opposite. ‘Sit down, Robert,’ she says. ‘You’re making me nervous hovering about like that.’
‘Sorry, Mum.’ He grins and perches on the arm of my sofa.
‘Now,’ Diane begins. ‘I’ve been asking around at the club about tutors for Eva.’
‘That’s great. Thank you,’ I reply.
She holds out a hand to quiet me. ‘Well, don’t thank me yet. Apparently, you’ve left it far too late. Although I think you already know that.’ Her voice has an accusatory tone.
‘It’s not Gemma’s fault,’ Robert says.
‘Did I say it was Gemma’s fault?’ She shifts her gaze back to me. ‘As I was saying, all the decent tutors were booked up months ago. However, I’ve been given the name and number of a top-notch nanny who also tutors.’
‘Thanks, Diane, but we don’t really need a nanny.’
‘Well, you should think about it. Like I said before, you could do with a helping hand around the house.’
‘Mum!’ Robert says.
‘What’s wrong with that?’ Diane asks her son. ‘With both of you working such long hours, it makes sense. And this particular girl also has impeccable teaching qualifications.’
‘Would she consider doing the tutoring without the nannying?’ I ask.
‘No. I already asked. She’s just come to the end of a contract and she’ll move wherever her next job takes her.’
‘That’s a shame,’ I reply. ‘I’ll have to try searching online for someone.’
‘Well, I’ll find out the details for you, just in case you change your mind.’ Diane checks her watch and stands up. ‘Anyway, I must dash.’
‘Thanks, Diane. It’s good of you to have asked.’
‘It’s my pleasure. I want the best for my granddaughters.’
Robert sees his mother out and I hear her tinkling laughter out on the drive. A sound I don’t hear very often, as it’s usually reserved for Robert alone.
Now that I’m up, I don’t feel like going back to bed, so I retrieve my laptop from the sideboard in the dining room, which doubles up as a study and general dumping ground, and decide to start searching for tutors in Bournemouth and Poole. It’s probably a waste of time, but maybe I’ll find someone who has a spare couple of hours a week. I take my laptop back into the lounge and plonk myself on the sofa.
I type the word ‘tutor’ into Google, but when I try to type in the word ‘Bournemouth’ my keyboard doesn’t respond. It seems to have frozen.Bloody computers.I tap the keys uselessly. Then I try to turn the whole thing off using the power button, but even that isn’t responding. The front door slams. Robert must have come back inside, but there’s no point asking him to help me – he’s a total technophobe.
And then, just when I think I’ll have to leave it for now and hope it unfreezes, Google shuts down. I tap the keys, but the keyboard is still not responding. A green loading bar suddenly appears in the middle of the screen. It’s full, as though whatever was loading or updating is finished. But then I realise it has started running backwards. And now I see a line of text below the bar that says… ‘Deleting Files’.
Deleting Files?Below this statement, fast-moving reams of text scroll and disappear, some of which I recognise as my work file names.
‘Shit, shit, shit!’ I stab uselessly at the keys, but the countdown continues and the files keep deleting. I put the laptop down on the sofa, stumble to my feet and unplug my mobile from the charger, waiting for it to boot up.
‘Hey, Gems,’ Robert says, coming into the lounge, ‘what shall we do today…’ His words tail off when he witnesses the sheer panic on my face. ‘Gemma, what’s the matter? What’s happened?’
‘My work! My laptop! It’s deleting all my files. Everything’s on there. What the hell am I going to do?’
Fifteen
‘What do you mean?’ Robert says, going over to the sofa and picking up my laptop.
‘Don’t touch it!’ I cry.