Secret Nanny Club (10 page)

He lay still. Not budging. In his little opinion it was
just another morning and he wasn’t ready to embrace it yet.

“Come on, pet! Let’s get up. We’ll get you some
yummy breakfast and then put you in the bath so you’ll be lovely and clean for Bernadette. Won’t that be nice?”

A groan indicated immense displeasure at being woken
from his dream. He turned away from me with a little sigh. I briefly wondered what babies dreamed about. Did they dream about bunnies and teddies and other babies? I often saw John flinch in his sleep and he tossed and turned an awful lot. He seemed to dream a lot. Did he dream of me? I’d love to have known.

John cried a little when I lifted him out of his wooden
cot. Not a sorrowful cry, more of a cranky one. It didn’t last long. Once he was in the bath, he forgot he was cross, and started to play with his yellow toy duck. I wanted him to be nice and clean for Bernadette. I badly

needed
to create a good impression. I was going to dress my baby in a little cream-coloured outfit with matching hat – a present from an auntie which I had always thought was too good to use before now. John, as always, loved his bath. He has this white plastic bath seat which he can sit in and chuckle and gurgle and splash all around him, playing with his rubber duck

and
his bath storybook. He was a picture of contentment now. For a fleeting moment, I felt guilty. I only had this one little boy and couldn’t cope. Did I really have to pay another woman, a stranger, to share these precious moments with my beloved son? Could I not be bothered myself? But then I chided myself for feeling guilty. Most women felt slightly guilty for hiring a child minder, didn’t they? I wondered how my own mother had raised us

with
no help at all. How did she do it? My dad had worked in England on building sites until I was ten years old and then had to come home due to a back injury. My mother, who is an ex-nurse, had held the fort all that time. No childminders, au pairs or nannies in sight. I

really
wondered how she and all the other hardworking women of her generation managed to raise large families. Raising children was still considered a fairly thankless job. In society anyway. Yvonne, one of the ladies from the book club, had once told me that she could literally see the light fade from people’s eyes when her answer was ‘I’m a stay-at-home mum’ to the pertinent and oft-asked dinner-party question ‘What do you do?’ In reality raising kids was the hardest job of all. At least in an office you got your coffee-break and your

lunch
break and in many cases you clocked out at 5.00p.m. With motherhood there was never a clocking-out. Still, I wasn’t complaining. It had been my choice to have a baby. Nobody had forced me into it. I was right there at the conception! And although I had never

envisioned
being a single mum struggling financially, the reward of seeing John smile for the first time or hearing him babble back at me was more exciting than any work promotion or fancy cocktails on a Friday evening with work colleagues, and worth more than all the millions in the world.

I’m doing this for you, darling John, I thought silently
as I dabbed my son’s head gently with a sponge. I’m doing this so that I can go back to work and provide for you and – I won’t lie either – I’m doing it to keep myself a little sane.

John was clean, fed, bathed and changed and was
happily playing on his play mat wearing his best outfit when the front door bell rang. I felt my heart lurch a little. So this was it! Bernadette was here. It was almost like welcoming a brand-new member to the family. I stood up and looked at myself anxiously in the hall mirror. I looked fine despite the dark circles under my eyes. I wiped away a bit of smudged mascara with the tip of my finger. My heart was beating a little faster than usual. Good God, this was as bad as going on a date!

With slightly clammy hands, I opened the front door
with a big smile. There she was. Bernadette. She looked exactly like she did in her photo. Fresh-faced, friendly and very Irish-looking with a smattering of freckles on her pale face. She wore navy jeans and a belted white bomber jacket and had her brown hair tied back in a ponytail. She held out a hand, but I reached out and hugged her instead. Shaking hands was too formal for somebody you were welcoming in to be part of the family.

“Did you have any trouble finding the place?” I
asked, picking up her very large suitcase and heaving it in from the porch. “Wow! This is heavy.”

“I know,” she laughed. “It is a bit. I have my whole
life in there! I’d no trouble getting here at all. I just took a taxi from the train station.”

“Take off your coat and sit down in the sitting room
and relax. John is in there on his play mat. I’m sure you’re dying to meet him.”

“Eh, yeah,” Bernadette said awkwardly, following me
into the room. “Oh, he’s cute.”

I put down the suitcase and picked John up. He was
dribbling onto his best outfit.

“Would you like to hold him?” I asked Bernadette.

She shrugged non-committedly. “Sure, why not?”

I felt myself flinch. Something wasn’t quite right here. There was no light in Bernadette’s eyes. She had only been here less than five minutes and looked bored already. What was wrong? But I then decided to banish my negative thoughts. After all, it was only normal to be cautious when meeting another woman to whom you were about to entrust your only beloved child. It would take more than a few minutes to properly break the ice.

I smiled at Bernadette who gave me a stiff smile back.
She held the baby awkwardly in her arms. For one who had clearly stated on her CV that she adored babies, it didn’t look like it now. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

Bernadette shook her head.

“Or coffee? Or even a glass of water, perhaps?”

“No, honestly, I’m grand.”

“Okay, if you’re sure,” I said amiably, reclaiming my baby. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room. I’m sure you’re looking forward to getting settled in.”

She followed me wordlessly. I showed her the
wardrobe I had bought for her in a closing-down sale in Bray, which had been delivered the day before. “I’m sure you’ll have enough space there for your belongings, but if not let me know.”

The girl had a nonchalant look on her face. I took a
deep breath and said nothing else. Maybe Bernadette was just painfully shy. Or perhaps she was a bit overwhelmed

about
moving to the city from a small country town. She might have said a teary goodbye earlier to her mum and dad. A boyfriend, even? I thought it was best to give her a

bit
of space to gather herself together. “I’ll be in the kitchen with John if you need me.”

“Okay,” said Bernadette. “Eh . . .” she began again
but then hesitated.

“Yes?” I asked eagerly.

“I was just wondering, eh . . . is it just yourself and the baby here?” She looked around the room as though she was expecting some madman to jump out of the closet any second.

“Yes, it’s just me and John,” I smiled. “I’m not
married,” I added with forced gaiety.

“Oh. Okay, fair enough.”

I forced another over-the-top smile and then left Bernadette to unpack in peace.

Back down in the kitchen again, I strapped John into
his baby seat and put on the kettle. I needed a strong mug of coffee after that not-so-smooth getting-to-know-you moment. Or maybe a stiff vodka. No, I’m joking. But I did feel a little uneasy for some reason. There was

something
funny about Bernadette’s demeanour and I just couldn’t put a finger on it. Then again, what had I been expecting? A really life-like Mary Poppins, complete with big black umbrella landing on the chimney and singing songs at the top of her voice? Get real, Kaylah, I scolded myself, you’ve seen one too many Disney films as a child. I sat down on a chair and switched on the TV to drown out the sound of silence. Bernadette didn’t seem to be making too much noise as she was unpacking. In fact there wasn’t even a sound coming from her room.

Maybe she had decided to lie down for a while. She was
probably tired after getting the train up to Dublin. Perhaps she hadn’t been able to sleep very much due to the excitement of starting a new job this week. I settled into watching a BBC programme, one of the ones I loved so much about people buying rundown properties and then doing them up to sell for a profit. They always gave me lots of ideas about the things I would do one day if I was ever lucky enough to get a foot on the property ladder. I sincerely hoped I wouldn’t be paying rent all my life. It was money down the drain really. If only it wasn’t so damn difficult to save a deposit! Anyway, even if I did have a deposit, would I ever get a mortgage loan? Everyone was saying the banks still weren’t lending. I wondered how much hope I would realistically have, being a single mum with no savings and no permanent job. It was kind of depressing thinking about it. Just as I was reaching for my first chocolate biscuit of the day to satisfy my sweet tooth, a rap on the kitchen door made me jump. Bernadette was standing at the door. She was still wearing her coat. Odd, I thought. It wasn’t that cold in here, was it? I had made sure to leave the heat on high so that Bernadette would feel warm and comfortable.

“Hey!” I gave her a warm smile. “Are you all
unpacked?”

Bernadette shifted from one foot to another. “Well,
actually no. I’ll probably have to unpack later.” She looked at her watch somewhat dubiously. “I’m kind of under pressure right now.”

“Pressure?”

“Yeah, sorry. I know it sounds bad, but . . .”

“But what?”
I frowned, feeling utterly confused. What was Bernadette talking about? Pressure to do what? “Is everything okay?” I pressed her gently. “There’s nothing wrong, is there? Can I help you with anything? Would you like a cup of tea?”

“No, thanks.
Honestly no. But, eh . . . I wonder would you have the number of a local taxi firm? I’m meeting another family in Foxrock in half an hour and I don’t want to be late.”

I gulped, feeling momentarily stunned. I needed
clarification. Bernadette was happy to offer it.

“You see,” she began, as I listened in bewilderment,
“I need to meet a few families this week. I am not one hundred per cent sure I will take this job, although I am very grateful for the offer . . . you and your son seem very nice.”

I opened my mouth to say something but remained
speechless. I think I was in mild shock.

“So,” Bernadette continued, in a breezy manner as
though she were merely discussing the weather or something, “I intend to meet up with a few families this week, and then by Friday I will have made the decision regarding what I feel is best for me. I’ll give all the families my answer on Friday. Is that okay with you?”

I was so flabbergasted I couldn’t speak. I held John in
my arms and remained silent.

Bernadette glanced at her watch again. “Yeah, so I’d
better run. I’d probably be quicker getting a taxi at the rank at the train station. Sorry about this. I hope you don’t think I’m rude.”

And then she was gone.