Secret Nanny Club (11 page)

In a sort of a daze, I put on my coat and hat and got
John’s little coat and hat for him. In no time the doorbell sounded again. My mother was on the doorstep. She gave John a big kiss. He gurgled back at her in delight. “How is my favourite grandson?” she cooed, rubbing his little cheek with the back of her hand.

He was her only grandson and she doted on him as
though he were her own.

“Mum, I need to ask you something –” I began.

“Well, you can ask me in the car, sweetheart. I don’t want to get stuck in the lunch-time traffic and end up missing my chiropodist appointment later. You should see the size of the corn on my left foot. No wonder I’m in pain.”

I strapped John’s baby-seat into the back of the car. It
was an awkward task and it didn’t help when my mother kept saying, “Is he not strapped in yet?” But soon enough we were ready to go. My mother talked nineteen to the dozen all the way to Aldi, spouting random nonsense about the neighbour’s daughter who had just split up with her husband.

I found myself zoning out.
Mum was forever gossiping about the neighbours, and

also
relating inane trivia about the people she played bridge with to me. Only when we stopped at the car park of the supermarket did she pause for breath and that was just to ask me whether I had a two-euro coin for the trolley.

“Mum!” I burst out. “Bernadette arrived today and
put her case in her room and then went out and I haven’t seen her since.”

My mother turned and frowned at me. “What are
you talking about, darling? Who on earth is Bernadette?”

She went to open the passenger door. I instinctively
grabbed her upper arm. “No, wait! I need your advice. Bernadette is the Irish au pair I was telling you about. She arrived today on the train and then she said she was going out to meet another family.”

“She what?”

“She just came and then left and said she’d be back later. She said she would choose a family at the end of the week.”

My mother pushed her sunglasses back on top of her
highlighted head of hair. “Well,” she said calmly, “let her stay with one of the other families then while she’s deciding.”

I felt a wave of relief wash over me. Thank God! At
least another human being had just confirmed that the feeling I had in my heart was right. “So what do you think I should do?”

“It’s very simple. Did you give her a key?”

“No, I’m not that daft.”

“Well, then, it is very
easy,” Mum said pragmatically. “If this girl, Bernadette, is waiting on the doorstep when you get back you must tell her that you are not running a free hotel for job-hunters.”

“And if she’s not there?”

“If she’s not, then . . . I presume you have her phone number?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then, you ring her and tell her to come and collect her suitcase. Now come on, we don’t have much time to get the groceries.”

CHAPTER TEN

“Hello, Bernadette? Is that you?”

“Yeah, who’s this?”

“It’s
Kaylah. I’m just wondering where you are?”

Despite my mother’s advice, I hadn’t rung Bernadette
when I got back to the apartment. I had waited throughout the afternoon and into the early evening – I suppose in the hope she might turn up and tell me I’d got it wrong and it was all a misunderstanding.

It sounded as though Bernadette was in a very noisy
place. A crowded bar, perhaps?

“Oh hi, hang on a minute – I need to step outside so
I can hear you.”

There was a pause. I took a deep breath and waited
patiently. Really, this girl was turning out to be something else. If I told anyone this was happening they probably

wouldn’t
even believe it.

“Hello?” She was back.

              “Hi, Bernadette. I am wondering what you want me to do with your suitcase?”

“Huh?”

“Well, you can’t leave it here,” I insisted.

There was a longer pause this time. “Is everything
okay, Kaylah?” she then asked as though
I
was the one with the problem.

“Bernadette, I offered you a job based on your CV
and our telephone conversation. I didn’t say it was okay to just dump your stuff here and go out partying.”

“Partying?” She sounded stunned. “I’m just meeting
my cousin for a drink. She’s just come home from Australia and I haven’t seen her in over a year.”

“I’m sorry, Bernadette, but your social life has really
got nothing to do with me. I am tired after the long day I’ve had and all the messing about has left me feeling very frustrated. I am therefore going to bed early and I cannot stay up to let you in to collect your case.”

“But why would I be collecting my stuff? I thought
we had an arrangement?”

“So did I – I thought the arrangement was that you
were coming to work for me.”

“Are you saying I can’t stay with you then?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“But where will I stay?” Bernadette sounded outraged.

I rubbed my temple in frustration. “With your cousin? In a hostel? I don’t know. And anyway it’s none of my business. If you prefer I can leave your case in the porch for you so you can collect it sometime tonight at your own convenience.”

“All right then. Suit yourself.”

Click. She was gone. I stared at my phone stunned. My head was spinning. Good God, the stress of it all was getting to me. I sighed in exasperation. I could feel a migraine starting. Why was it so bloody difficult to get a good au pair? Come on! I slumped down on the sitting room sofa and put my head in my hands. I felt defeated and worn out, and if I’m being honest, a bit foolish too. That girl must have thought I was an awful eejit if she thought she could get away with behaving like that.

Then John began to whimper. A sudden strong pong told
me that he needed his nappy changed as soon as possible. I looked over at him and saw that he had also puked a bit down his nice new top. Seriously, if it wasn’t one thing it was another. There was never any spare time as a mum. Not to even mention the mountain of washing and ironing to be done. It was all beginning to get on top of me.

Later that evening, after John and his favourite teddy
had been put down in his little wooden cot and a few lullabies had been sung, I poured myself a large glass of red wine and sat down at my computer. It was time to go back to the drawing board. Bernadette had arrived to collect her case. She had come in a taxi, and removed it wordlessly from the front porch. I honestly found the whole thing very odd indeed, but it was a blessing that she had shown her true colours early on, and not in a few weeks’ time when it might have been too late.

Maybe it was time to approach a proper nanny agency.
Perhaps I should splash out on a fee for peace of mind. The only problem with agencies was that they had lots of strict rules like having to pay holiday pay and offer free flights and offer the use of a car and all that malarkey. With funds at an all-time low, I was barely managing to keep the roof over our heads without having to fork out a fortune on employment agencies too. I decided to renew my ad on the internet one more time. Yes, it would mean having to read many, many

more
practically illegible CVs, but I couldn’t just jack in all my hopes because of Bernadette turning out to be a few raisins short of a fruit-and-nut bar. I logged onto the employment section of the website and renewed my ad. Then I started reading a few of the other ads so that I could compare them to my own. It was pretty fascinating stuff. Lots of families seemed

to
be making fairly heavy demands on their would-be au pairs. There was one ad from a family with five children, looking for an au pair who would be willing to do housework as well as help the children with their homework, and they expected some poor girl to do it all for a hundred euro with just one and a half days off a week. I thought that was pretty outrageous. For the same money I was offering two days off a week, a free travel pass and my girl would only have to help one mother look after one child. I didn’t expect my future au pair to do much housework. Apart from a few errands down to the local grocer’s and keeping little John’s clothes in order and some light ironing, she wouldn’t be asked to do much at all. I believed that an au pair’s interest should lie with the child and not cleaning. After all, how could somebody truly look after your child properly if she was on her hands and knees scrubbing floors? I just couldn’t believe some the ridiculous demands being made by some of the families. They were looking for slaves, not au pairs!

I was tired now. I was fighting to keep my eyes open.
It had been an exhausting, dramatic day and nothing had come of it so far. But at least the spare room was available now and ready to move into. The flowers on the window-sill looked fresh and inviting. Well, not inviting enough to make Bernadette want to stay, maybe, but still . . .

I decided to go to bed early. If I had a second glass of
wine I would surely pay for it in the morning by feeling drowsy. One glass was my limit now. God, I would be such a cheap date if anyone was offering. But sadly nobody was.

I was about to log off my computer when a new email
in my inbox caught my eye. That was strange, I thought. Either it was a very enthusiastic candidate or SPAM. My eyes were closing now, and I yawned as I opened up the email.

Hello, I am just wondering when you are available. I am a
recent widower, aged thirty-seven, and I have two daughters aged one and three. We live in a nice house in Sandymount near the sea. My mother also lives with us and helps out but we are looking for an au pair to help her when I am at work and also to come on holidays to Spain where we have a summer house. Please reply if you think this is a job that would suit you. Thanks, Stephen.

I read the message and then read it again. Aw, the
poor man! He must have been confused and thought I was offering my services as an au pair, and not looking for one. I wondered whether I should just ignore it. I thought about it for a few more seconds and then sent a quick email back. Hi Stephen, I’m afraid I’m in the same boat as you. I’m trying to hire help myself. Hope you will have more luck than I’ve been having trying to find my own Mary Poppins. It’s a bit of a jungle out there. I thought it would be easy. Good luck and take care, Kaylah.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I packed my baby’s newborn clothes in a large plastic
sack yesterday. It was with a tear or two that I completed this difficult task. I mean, it was heart-wrenching folding his miniscule yellow-and-white striped Babygro for the very last time knowing that he’d never wear it again. It’s hard to believe that he once squeezed into such a teeny garment as he’s now a bit of a thug to be honest. Like this morning when he started yelling at five in the morning I

just
looked at my watch and nearly cried. I just thought: You cannot be serious, Mister!

But he was serious and he continued yelling until he
got his own way and I eventually brought him into my own bed and he fell asleep cuddled into me, happy as Larry. I know, of course, that all the books say it’s a bad habit to have your baby sleeping in the same bed as you, but give me a break. He seems to prefer my bed to his cot and I’m just looking for a peaceful life. To be honest all the books out there can tell you how to raise your child but ultimately you just have to use your own common sense. I mean, they say that it’s best not to give solids to babies under six months. Well, try telling that to my little guzzler. At five months old he’d have eaten the hand off his arm if I wasn’t feeding him solids.

Sheelagh’s
next-door neighbour has a baby two weeks older than mine. Her baby is still on bottles only because she is reading a book which tells her exactly what to do. The same woman can never go anywhere because her baby is always crying. I feel sorry for them both. I always think the baby is hungry and his mum doesn’t realise it. The thing is that all babies are different, so what works for one won’t necessarily work for another. I wouldn’t have my baby starving just because I’d read some book telling me not to give solids before six months. I try my best to use the brain God gave me. The rules are always changing anyway. Our mothers were told not to put babies to sleep on their backs yet we’re told the