I already feel pretty good about how things are progressing. The kids love me and Gemma is almost falling over herself with gratitude. What else does the woman expect? I’m not skivvying and nannying for the pleasure of it. I’m doing it for a pay cheque. But then, maybe that’s unfair. If Gemma wasn’t acting all grateful, then I would think she was an entitled bitch. Basically, Gemma can’t win. And that’s okay. It helps if I can loathe Gemma. Makes things easier. Robert, on the other hand… I smile to myself.
Checking my watch, I see it’s ten o’clock already. Robert said he’d be back at lunchtime so that gives me at least two hours. I drain my cup and set it on the windowsill, turn around and head down to the first-floor landing. There are three double bedrooms and a family bathroom on this floor. The only room I haven’t seen yet is Robert and Gemma’s. Their bedroom door is firmly closed. I put a hand on the doorknob and turn it clockwise, pushing it open.
The room is large and square, but it’s a shabby mess like the rest of the house. The furniture is mismatched, the bed unmade, piles of clothes lie discarded on the floor and the door to the en suite is open, revealing more mess beyond.
I walk in, a thrill in my chest knowing I’m doing something taboo. I pull open the drawer of the bedside table nearest to me. I’m guessing this is Robert’s side as there’s an action-thriller paperback on the floor next to a pair of discarded sports socks. The drawer contains an empty packet of ibuprofen tablets, a hardback notebook with a picture of the ocean on the front, a pen and a strip of condoms. My fingers close around the notebook. I open it and flick through the creamy white pages. It’s empty. I slip it back where I found it and slide the drawer closed.
So what’s in Gemma’s bedside drawer? Making my way around the bed, my heart begins to beat in anticipation. Why is snooping always such a buzz? It must be the fear of getting caught. The danger. This feeling is primal. It’s why we watch horror films and go on roller coasters. But something makes me stop before I open Gemma’s drawer. I cock my ear at a noise from downstairs. A muted thud. Could one of the Ballantines have come home while I was up in my attic room?
I step away from the bed and head back towards the door, but before I get there, I hear the sound of footsteps on the stairs, slow and laboured. What should I do? Hide? No. It would be awful if I was discovered hiding. Better to brazen it out. I can’t believe I’ve let myself get caught out like this. Such a stupid thing to have done.
Taking a breath, I step out of the bedroom onto the landing, where I come face to face with an older woman in a tabard, carrying a plastic tray full of cleaning products. The woman freezes and puts a hand to her chest, almost dropping the tray.
‘Who are you?’ she barks, visibly shaken by my appearance from the bedroom.
‘I was about to ask you the same question,’ I say with as much authority as I can muster. At least it isn’t one of the Ballantines.
‘I’m Mandy, I clean for Gemma and Robert on Tuesday mornings. Who are you?’
‘I’m the nanny.’
‘Nanny?’
‘Yes. I just started working for them.’
‘They never told me.’
‘Call them if you like.’
Mandy raises a thinly plucked eyebrow. ‘So if you’re the nanny, what were you doing in their bedroom?’
I grit my teeth and clench my fists by my side. ‘If you must know, I’m allergic to feather pillows so I was looking for a hypoallergenic one.’
‘The spare bedding’s in the airing cupboard,’ Mandy says, nodding her head towards a door on the landing.
I can tell that the cleaner doesn’t believe my story about pillows. To be fair, I wouldn’t have believed me either. I wonder just how much of a problem that’s going to be.
I realise I’m going to have to fix this.
Twenty-Six
The coffee shop is crowded with mums, sticky-fingered toddlers and fractious babies. Pushchairs line the steamed-up windows like Formula 1 cars ready to race. This isn’t exactly the relaxed vibe I was after when I asked Sadie if she’d like to go out for a coffee.
Sadie has been with us for over a week now, but we haven’t had a proper moment to chat together, so I thought it might be nice if we bonded for an hour or two over lattes and cake. She seemed pleased to be asked and, touchingly, it looks as though she’s made a real effort with her appearance today, wearing a skirt and blouse and a faint dab of lip gloss. Even her hair is shiny, pulled off her face in a half-up ponytail. She might be a bit frumpily dressed, but actually, her face is really pretty.
‘There’s a spare table at the back.’ Sadie points to a table strewn with empty plates and coffee cups.
‘Is this okay? We could always go somewhere else? It’s a bit messy and… noisy.’ I give an apologetic smile.
‘No, it’ll be fine.’ She heads over to claim the spare table. ‘I’ll just get rid of these things.’
I help her clear the table and we sit opposite one another as a very young, stressed-out looking waitress comes up to us and wipes down the table.
‘Sorry about the mess,’ the waitress says. ‘It’s always busy at this time of the morning, after the pre-school singalong at the library round the corner.’
‘No problem,’ I reply. ‘Sadie, what would you like?’
‘A flat white would be great, and…’ She looks up at the waitress. ‘I don’t suppose you have any red velvet cake?’