Once Upon a Wish-Mas Page 8

  We decorated the frame together before school, spelling out Mum with buttons and pieces of fabric from my craft box. It was obviously a lot harder for poor little Lottie with her cast, but she’s trying not to let it bother her; clearly for my sake.

  The finished product is by no means perfect, but the girls are so happy with it.

  ‘Mummy’s so pretty,’ Lottie says stroking the picture with her index finger.

  ‘She was,’ I agree. ‘You both look like her so much.’

  ‘Really?’ Jessica asks hopefully.

  ‘Of course,’ I nod. ‘She’s looking down at you from heaven right now, so proud of you both.’

  Jessica sighs. ‘I just wish I could give her a cuddle.’

  These girls are too young to know this sort of heartache. Why is life so bloody unfair?

  ‘I know, baby. I bet she wishes the same. But I can cuddle you.’ I open up my arms and they both step into it. I squeeze them tight, knowing there’s only a limited amount of them left before I leave.

  Jessica smiles up at me. ‘You know I wished for you. A nanny that stayed. I think Mummy sent you to us.’

  And I’m leaving her. My heart breaks into a million pieces.

  Taking Lottie to nursery was mortifying with everyone asking about her wrist. You could see all the mothers looking at me with accusations. What kind of nanny lets a child be harmed in their care? I don’t think I can ever work around Notting Hill again. Not that I’m sure I want to. With the internet these days this could follow me around and ruin my career I’ve worked so hard for.

  So, to try and bring some joy to today I’ve organised a play date with one of the other mums from the school. Lottie can’t do gymnastics because of her arm and Jessica was only too pleased to miss a week. Not that we’ll tell Daddy. The only one who asked if I was okay, while the others whispered was Juliette, she seems like the most normal out of all of them. Least judgy.

  There seem to be a few groups. One is the nannies, but they all seem to be from Eastern Europe and very hard to infiltrate. Whenever I’ve tried to go near them, they’ve started speaking another language, and you can hardly join in a conversation when it’s in a language you don’t know.

  Then there’s who I call the stereotypical Notting Hill mums, half of which seem to be on the PTA. The one’s who do nothing but go for coffee or get their nails done after dropping off their little ones. They don’t interest me at all.

  I got chatting to Juliette because she appears relatively normal. She might be on the PTA but she’s not like them. She was the only one this morning to tell me to ignore the whispers.

  She has a son called Henry in the same class as Jessica and asked me round for coffee after I all but burst into tears at her kindness.

  Her house is just as fabulous as the girls, but I try not to openly gawk too much. Makes me look too common.

  ‘So...’ she says with an excited grin. ‘I saw the manny asked you out.’

  ‘Oh God.’ I cover my face with one hand. I hate that it’s just another reason for them all to gossip about me. ‘He’s text me a few times but I’ve said I’m busy.’

  ‘He could be good for you.’ She nods, her brunette bob swinging. ‘Such a nice guy.’

  What a glowing reputation. Everyone knows a girl grows up looking to find a nice guy. Not. They want someone to sweep them off their feet. I really need to stop watching Cinderella. It’s giving me unrealistic expectations.

  I need to change the subject and quick.

  ‘So, have you always lived in Notting Hill?’ I ask her, as she serves the coffee, bouncing my clingy koala bear Lottie on my hip. The girl never wants to leave me. Even more so now that she has her broken wrist. My little soldier.

  She cackles a laugh. ‘God, no! I grew up in Putney.’

  ‘Oh.’ I can’t help but be taken aback. You can’t get further from Notting Hill society than Roehampton.

  ‘So did James,’ she explains. Ah, she’s mentioned her husband is called James. ‘We were in council houses down the same street.’

  Oh my god. I did not see this coming. A rags to riches story where they end up in the snobbiest part of London? They should write a bloody inspirational book.

  ‘Oh wow. You’re so normal!’ I can’t help but blurt out, cringing when I realise how judgy I sound. ‘How the hell did you end up in a house like this?’

  Shit, I probably shouldn’t have asked that. Me and my foot in mouth disease.

  ‘Sorry.’ I grimace. ‘that’s really nosey of me.’

  ‘Don’t be silly!’ she chuckles. That’s another reason why I like her. She proper belly laughs and throws her head back. Honest people do that. ‘James got left some money by a distant uncle and he decided to start up his own company with it. It quickly went from strength to strength and then he sold it for a ridiculous amount of money. Started another one and he’s still there as the CEO.’

  ‘Wow, that’s kind of amazing.’ I’ve read those kinds of stories, but never I’ve met a real person living it.

  ‘It is.’ She nods with a frown. ‘But it means we’re mortgaged up to the hill with this place. I can’t ever stop worrying about money. I think it’s coming from none. Sometimes I wish we could just sell up and move to the country somewhere. Be mortgage free and not worry anymore.’

  ‘I get that.’ I nod.

  My mum always taught me to live within my means. I’d probably be the same if I won the lottery. Not that I actually play. I’d rather buy a chocolate bar with the money. I actually have a healthy savings account though, and I got that discipline from my mum.

  She leans across the breakfast bar. ‘It’s so refreshing to find someone normal. If I said that to the Notting Hill mums, they’d look at me as if I’d lost my mind. Their idea of leaving Notting Hill is to go to Dubai on holiday.’

  I snort a laugh. ‘Well, I feel the same way. It’s always nice to have an ally in the same class as the kids. Especially now I’ve gone and broken a child’s wrist.’ I look down at little Lottie sucking her thumb.

  ‘Do you mind if I ask what happened?’ she smiles kindly.

  ‘You mean you haven’t heard already?’ I ask with a forced laugh.

  She grins. ‘Oh, don’t get me wrong, the rumours are rife. But I’ve heard everything from her being thrown from a moving car to falling down the stairs.’

  ‘Jesus!’ That’s some imagination those mums have. I suppose the real story is a bit confusing and surreal anyway.’

  I fill her in on what happened.

  ‘You poor thing. You must have been distraught.’ She smiles kindly. ‘So where were you before this?’ she asks, offering me a doughnut, which obviously I take.

  And she eats carbs? New best friend, I think.

  ‘I was with a family in Edinburgh. Two boys. They were eight and ten when I started and twelve and fourteen when I left.’

  Her eyes widen. ‘Wow, those are some really important years.’

  ‘Yep.’ I smile, feeling a bit teary whenever I think of them. ‘They were the nicest family. They’d take me on all the family holidays. I felt more like a member of the family than a member of staff. I only left because the boys didn’t need me anymore.’ Not that they didn’t beg me to stay.

  ‘Ah.’ she smiles, knowingly. ‘I’m assuming Barclay hasn’t been very accommodating?’

  This guy clearly has a reputation. I must be careful here. She’s called him Barclay which means they’re on first name terms. They could be besties for all I know.

  ‘Um...’ I look down at my sprinkled doughnut.

  ‘Don’t worry sweets.’ She winks. ‘This is between us.’

  Hmm, I still can’t help but be suspicious. I mean she is on the PTA. This could all be a set up by Clementine for all I know.

  ‘How do you know Barclay?’ I ask tentatively, stuffing a large bit of doughnut in my mouth so I can’t speak.

  She smiles sadly, her eyes glossing over. ‘I used to be friends with Claire.’

  ‘Claire?’
I mumble through a full mouth. Oh, she must mean his wife. I quickly chew and force myself to swallow. ‘Oh, Claire, as in his wife?’

  ‘Yeah.’ She smiles but it’s small and half hearted. ‘She was wonderful. Very warm and down to earth. She wasn’t a Notting Hill born and bred either.’

  ‘Oh really? Didn’t they go to school together?’ I know I’m being beyond nosy here and it really is none of my business, but I can’t help but want to figure out Barclay.

  She nods. ‘She got in with a full scholarship. From a regular working class family in Watford.’

  My jaw nearly drops the floor. ‘Wow. I just assumed they were from the same worlds.’

  Barclay is such a toff. I can’t imagine him falling for a normal girl.

  She shakes her head. ‘I’ve seen Barclay go through quite a lot of nannies since she passed. He’s grieved in... his own way.’

  ‘Mmm.’ I’m conscious of Lottie still on my lap. ‘Baby, would you like to go and see Jessica and Henry?’

  ‘No. Stay with you,’ she says snuggling into my arm.

  ‘Okay.’ I turn back to Juliette. ‘Well, I’m not going anywhere.’

  Not until New Years anyway. I hate lying to everyone, but it’s not like I can blurt out the truth with Lottie here.

  The thing is, I’m already so attached to these girls. The thought of leaving them has my chest constricting.

  Can I really consider giving up my life for these girls? I know the answer in an instant. Of course I can. The truth is that you don’t have much of a life doing this job. You just slot into a family and do whatever is best for the kids. I’ve never minded before, but if I have to deal with Barclay having tantrums all over the place, well it’ll really mean my life is over.

  But giving it up for these girls, well it wouldn’t feel like a sacrifice. I just need to convince Barclay that I’m worth keeping. For his own sake.

  Barclay

  My phone buzzes on the table. I look at it to see a message from Juliette. I worry immediately. Has something happened to the girls? I quickly grab it and open the message.

  Met your new nanny today. She seems lovely. Pls try to be nice to this one!

  Jesus, what is it with my reputation? Don’t they see that it’s not me being a nightmare, but the endless string of incompetent nannies?

  What the hell is she doing chatting to Ruby anyway? I sigh, I know why she is. She was Claire’s best friend, of course she wants to check in on how the girls are doing. The truth is that she’s tried to be around a lot since Claire died, but I haven’t let her. Seeing Juliette is just another reminder that she’s gone.

  Instead I’ve pushed her away. I suppose I’ve pushed everyone away. It’s just better like this. I have more control. It’s just the way it’s got to be.

  Chapter 14

  Tuesday 10th December

  Ruby

  I have my date with the eager Manny tonight. He’s sent me a ridiculous amount of texts and I’ve finally run out of excuses. Way to play it cool, Manny. I really must remember his name. So, I’ve decided to just get it over and done with tonight. You never know, I might actually like him. Stranger things have happened.

  I managed to persuade him from a late-night coffee, to drinks. I’m always a better date with alcohol. I mean, isn’t everyone?

  I’m the first to arrive at the trendy bar I suggested around the corner. It’s all dark mahogany and red velvet seats. I check out their cocktail list. Fifteen quid for a cocktail. Fuck a duck. I should have googled the nearest Wetherspoons.

  ‘I’ll have a house white wine please,’ I say as quietly to the barman as possible. Don’t want everyone overhearing what a cheap skate I am.

  If in doubt, you always get more bang for your buck with wine. It’s like loopy juice to me. If it’s wet and alcoholic it’ll do me just fine. It’s still £12.50 for a glass of house white. Bloody joke.

  I settle myself on a small candle lit table and check my watch. Just as I look up, there he is, in a smart gingham shirt and a beanie hat. God, why do men insist on wearing beanie hats at night time? Day time, in the winter, maybe it’s acceptable. But anytime apart from that you just look like a stoner.

  ‘Hi!’ he says with an enthusiastic smile. That’s the word I’d use to describe him. Enthusiastic. He points back towards the bar. ‘I’ll just go get a drink.’

  I smile. Didn’t offer me another one then. Tight bastard. But then I suppose we are both on Nanny wages and this is Notting Hill.

  Money is never something that impresses me, but every girl will tell you that a tight man isn’t an attractive one, no matter how much of a pretty a face he has. He’s okay looking really.

  He comes back with a bottle of Peroni. Barclay drinks those too. I’ve seen them in the fridge. Not that I’m thinking about Barclay. Of course not.

  ‘So,’ he starts, with a smile. Tell me a bit about yourself.’

  Oh God, I hate when people say that. Like you’re on a game show and you have to sell yourself. Well Matthew, my name’s Ruby and I’m from Hertfordshire!’

  ‘Well, you obviously know I’m a nanny.’ I force a grimaced smile and find myself nodding. ‘What else would you like to know?’

  He frowns, thinking for a second. ‘Where did you grow up?’

  ‘Oh, that was Tring. What about you?’

  ‘We’ll get to me in a minute.’ He grins.

  Okay....this feels weird. Get to him in a minute. Why?

  ‘What made you want to be a nanny?’ he presses, leaning so close to me I fear he’ll lean in for a kiss. He does smell nice. Not as nice as Barclay. Jesus, why is he in my head?

  What was he saying? Oh, that’s right, being a nanny. God, I feel like I’m in an interview, not on a date.

  I shrug, sweat forming on my upper lip. This is why I hate dating.

  ‘I’ve just always loved kids. Always wanted to be a part of a family I suppose.’

  His warm green eyes watch me appraisingly. ‘I like that.’

  I’m really not trying to impress you, manny. I can’t even remember your name.

  ‘So, what’s your big story then?’ I joke, taking a nervous gulp of wine. Okay, it is the best wine I’ve ever tasted.

  He takes a deep breath, like he’s about to impart an amazing story. I’m bored already. Unless he’s going to tell me he used to be a woman. Then I’ll be part interested and part planning my escape route.

  ‘Well, when I was younger, I got myself into a bit of trouble.’

  Oh God, this is not going well. He’s got a sob story. I can’t stand them on the X Factor, let alone on a date.

  ‘I actually almost ended up in prison at one point.’

  Jesus, I’ve found a right catch here.

  ‘That’s when I found myself at a real low point. I didn’t know where to turn. My mum was never around, and I’d never known my dad.’

  Wait for it. He’s about to drop something weird. I can feel it in my waters.

  ‘That’s when I found Jesus.’

  And there it is. Oh, for fucks sakes. I’ve got myself a bible basher.

  ‘And since then my life has just been...blessed.’ He looks up to the ceiling, as if he can actually see Jesus through it. I glance up myself, he’s that convincing.

  ‘Amazing,’ I nod, already looking for my nearest exit.

  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not against God or anything. I wouldn’t say I’m a strong Atheist, but I’m hardly a believer either. This is never going to work.

  ‘So happy for you.’

  ‘Thank you.’ He grins, like he’s the happiest person on the planet. ‘It’s so nice to share my happiness with someone.’

  Time to change the subject.

  ‘So... apart from that, your life is pretty normal, yeah? Any hobbies?’

  He laughs. ‘If you’re asking if I touch the old monkey.’ He grabs his balls through his tight jeans. ‘Then no. I haven’t touched that in five years.’

  Jesus fucking Christ. I wasn’t asking the man if he
masturbates. But five years? That cannot be healthy. Blue balls city.

  I have to sit through another two hours of him rambling on just to be seen as polite. I don’t want him telling all the mums I’m some huge bitch. That wouldn’t help my already battered reputation.

  ‘Can I walk you home?’ he offers after I’ve claimed a stomach ache.

  I force a fake smile. ‘Oh, thanks so much, but I think I’m just going to walk myself and have a nice early night.’

  ‘Okay.’ He smiles sadly. I give him a hug, careful not to press my boobs against him.

  Now for the kicker. ‘I’m so glad I have a friend like you.’

  I feel him flinch. I might as well have just twisted a knife in his back, but it’s easier to cut it off now. The way he’s been talking about waiting for marriage, it would never work. I’m not a ho or anything, but I’m not marrying a guy before I’ve seen his penis. What if it was shaped like a banana?

  I walk home past the fairy lit houses, already happy at the thought of my pyjamas. I’m much happier that way than being stuck in a tight bra with make up on.

  I head into the main house and straight for the fridge. I need some chocolate to cheer myself up and I’ve got nothing in my mini fridge downstairs. I’m searching through the lettuce and avocados for something yummy when I hear a whistle.

  I turn around and spot Barclay staring at me from the door, displaying a huge grin. His shirt is scrunched up to his elbows, his tie pulled down in disarray. Basically, sexy as sin.

  ‘You’re all dressed up for a date with the fridge,’ he says, a playful glint in his eye.

  I roll my eyes, hating that I can feel my cheeks blush. ‘No, I had a date with a person. A man,’ I quickly add. ‘It just ended up being a disaster, as per usual.’

  ‘Oh really?’ He slides onto a chair, his olive toned arms extended out on the table in front of him.

  Is he really interested? Maybe he just wants to laugh at what a loser I am. I can’t blame him.

  ‘Well, I’ve been out of the dating game a long time.’ He grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief. I don’t know about that. What about horse girl? ‘Tell me, what was so terrible?’