The Nanny (17 page)

‘So what happened? Did she have a fit, or something?’ Marc demands.

‘We don’t think so. She was extremely dehydrated, which can—’

‘Dehydrated?’ I ask in surprise.

‘It’s when there’s an insufficient volume of water to keep the body—’

‘Yes, I know what it means,’ I say tightly. ‘How can she be dehydrated? She drinks plenty of milk, she loves water and juice. Is something wrong with her kidneys? Is she not
processing liquid properly?’

‘That’s what we’re trying to establish,’ Dr Gardner says smoothly.

‘Is she going to be OK?’

‘We’re doing our best to—’

‘What about long-term effects? Is she going to—’

‘Mrs Elias, we really don’t know any more than we’ve already told you,’ he says, slightly impatiently. ‘I understand your anxiety, but we have to wait and see. The
good news is that she’s responding well to treatment so far.’

I stand up. ‘Can we see her now?’

‘Yes, of course. If you’d like to wait here, someone will take you up to Intensive Care in just a moment. Your daughter is out of immediate danger for now. You and your husband can
return home when you’ve seen her and we’ll call you as soon as we—’

‘I’m not leaving,’ I say stubbornly.

‘Of course. Well. If you’ll excuse me.’

We wait in tense silence until the same nurse returns and escorts us up to Intensive Care. I grip the rails of the tiny bed containing our daughter, more afraid than I’ve ever been in my
life.

‘I don’t understand,’ I whisper numbly. ‘Is it the vaccinations? Remember all those children who got sick after they had the MMR jab – maybe Rowan’s going to
get sick too . . .’

‘I thought you said he was fine?’

‘Yes, but Poppy was fine too, until this afternoon,’ I sob. ‘Oh, Marc. Look at her. She’s so tiny and helpless.’

Finally, he reaches out to me. He looks like a lost, scared child himself. I grip his outstretched hand across the bed, my heart aching. This stupid fuss about money has been needlessly driving
us apart for weeks. I know he didn’t mean any harm. He was just trying to be a good husband and father, to provide for his family. Set against what we stand to lose now, what on earth does it
matter?

The nurse leads us back to the viewing gallery overlooking Intensive Care. I press my face to the glass, watching doctors prod and poke my baby with their needles and tubes.

‘I know about the mortgage,’ I say quietly, without turning round.

I feel, rather than hear, his sharp intake of breath.

‘I’ve known for a few weeks,’ I continue. ‘And about the money you “borrowed” from PetalPushers. I’m guessing you needed it to clear some sort of deal
that went wrong.’

‘I wanted to tell you,’ Marc says hoarsely. ‘I tried.’

‘I know. It’s my fault, too. I’ve been too busy and too angry to listen.’

‘I didn’t mean to go behind your back, Clare. I kept trying to work up courage to come to you, but—’

‘How much do you owe?’

‘I’ve had a couple of good trades,’ he says quickly. ‘It’s below a million now. I’m sure I can make the rest back if—’

‘Close the bet,’ I say.

‘But if I close it, we’ll lose the rest!’

‘Then I’ll go to Coares, and liquidate my portfolio. If I clear the second mortgage, and pay off the rest of what you owe, we can just about manage. It’s going to be tight, but
if needs be,’ I grimace, ‘I’ll talk to Davina. We’ll get through this, Marc. It’s only money.’

‘I – I don’t know what to say.’

I turn round, and look him in the eye for the first time. ‘Promise me you’ll never,
ever
put us all at risk like this again. If you need to gamble, go and buy a lottery
ticket.’

‘Of course, I promise,
never
—’

‘No more lies, Marc. Don’t ever touch my company again.’

‘I swear.’

I’m aware I sound like a controlling bitch, but I need him to understand. I have to be able to trust him. I can’t keep cleaning up his messes.

‘Stay away from Felix, Hamish, all of them. They don’t have families to think about. Maybe you should think about finding a different job, something a bit more reliable. A bit
safer.’

‘But I love what I do—’

‘It’s too tempting. You can’t handle it, Marc.’

Marc nods tightly. ‘Clare, I’m so sorry. It all got so out of hand, I didn’t know what to do. I thought you’d leave me if you found out.’

‘Am I really that much of an ogre?’

‘I didn’t want to disappoint you,’ Marc mumbles.

He sounds like a small boy. The thought occurs to me:
Do I really want to be married to a child?

The doors behind us whoosh open, and the nurse bustles in.

‘I’m afraid we’ve got triplets on the way up. We’ll need you to wait downstairs for a bit. I’ll come and find you as soon as I can.’

‘I think we should go home,’ Marc says. ‘Poppy’s in good hands, and I want to check on Rowan. I’d be happier if he slept with us tonight, so we can keep an eye on
him.’

‘You go. I’ll stay with Poppy—’

‘Clare, we can be here in less than ten minutes. Come home.’

Later, I lie in bed wide-eyed and sleepless, listening to the sound of my husband and my son breathing on either side of me. I have to consciously relax my hands, and loosen my grip on the
coverlet. At any moment, I’m afraid the phone will ring and tell me my daughter—

I can’t even think it.

Eventually I drift into a troubled sleep, in which I’m running down endless corridors, searching for Poppy and Rowan. Something nameless and terrifying is pursuing me, and the faster I
run, the faster it comes after me. I can’t find my children anywhere. And then Marc is there, standing on the other side of an unbridgeable crevasse, holding the twins and laughing—

I’m woken by the sound of banging on the front door. I push myself up on one elbow. It’s still dark; the clock on the dresser says 5.16. Marc stumbles out of bed, knotting his
dressing gown. ‘This better not be your damn brother again.’

I tuck Rowan safely in the centre of the bed, and get up and pull on my own robe. I dismiss my first panicked thought –
the hospital
– realizing they’d phone, not send
someone round. Voices rumble downstairs. I lean over the banisters. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but a pit of unease opens in my stomach.

Marc comes to the foot of the stairs. ‘Clare, it’s the police. You’d better come down.’

‘The police? But Xan’s not here—’

‘It’s not Xan they want,’ Marc says, his voice strangely hard. ‘It’s you.’

‘
Salt
poisoning?’ I exclaim. ‘How on earth could that happen?’

‘It’s complicated,’ Marc says evasively. ‘The doctors say her sodium levels are off the chart, but they don’t know why. Her kidneys are functioning fine, but
she’s got way too much salt in her body. Basically, she’s really dehydrated.’

‘I don’t get it. Poppy drinks loads, she’s always thirsty—’

‘That’s one of the signs, apparently.’

I slide Rowan into his high-chair and put on his bib. ‘I still don’t understand. Signs of
what
?’

‘They’re still trying to figure that out.’

‘So, it’s like some kind of illness?’

‘Not really.’

‘Well, what then?’ I say impatiently. ‘Everything Clare buys is fresh and organic, no additives, nothing, she’s totally anal about it – sorry, Marc, but she is.
There’s no way Poppy could get salt poisoning from her food—’

‘They don’t think she did.’

The penny drops.

‘You mean . . . they think someone gave salt to her
on purpose
?’

‘The concentration in her body was the same as you’d find in seawater,’ Marc says. ‘It’s as if she’d swallowed four whole teaspoons of salt. No one could
accidentally give a baby that much.’

‘That’s insane.’

Marc says nothing.

‘Who’d want to make Poppy sick? It’s not me, Marc, I swear, I love the twins, I’d never do anything to hurt them, I—’

‘No one thinks it’s you.’

‘But she’s never out of our sight! Clare or me are with her all the time—’

‘Exactly,’ Marc says.

I feel queasy. I know he and Clare have been having a few problems over money, but he can’t believe she’d hurt her own baby like this. That’s
sick
.

‘Where is she?’ I ask suddenly.

‘The police wanted to talk to her,’ he says reluctantly. ‘They came round early this morning. She’s still with them.’

‘They
arrested
her?’

‘She hasn’t actually been charged. They just want to ask her a few questions.’

‘Marc, there’s obviously been a mistake!’ I cry. ‘The doctors are wrong. Clare would never hurt Poppy, you know that. She adores her!’

‘She hasn’t been herself lately,’ Marc mutters.

‘But she’d never hurt the twins. You told them that, right?’

He shifts uncomfortably. ‘Clare never really took to the whole motherhood thing. It’s a miracle she survived her own childhood, given her own bloody mother. I thought she’d get
used to it, but . . .’

He trails off, unable to look me in the eye.

I can’t believe this. The spineless little shit! He’s her husband! How can he believe this
crap
? What the fuck is the matter with him?

I’m only Clare’s nanny, but I
know
she didn’t do it. Working with kids gives you a kind of sixth sense about people. I can walk into a class full of four-year-olds and
know right away which little suck-up is going to be teacher’s pet and which kid is the charming bastard who’ll cause nothing but trouble. Clare’s neurotic and a total control
freak, but she’s not the type of woman to suffocate her baby with a pillow because it won’t stop crying. She’s far too sorted. I wish I could be a bit more like her. I might not
have backed myself into a corner with Jamie if I was.

‘Lots of women take a while to adjust after they’ve had a baby,’ I snap. ‘They don’t all rush out and stock up on table salt.’

‘She’s never really bonded with Rowan. And look at the way she went off and hired you the moment she came home from the hospital. She couldn’t wait to get shot of
them—’

I slam Rowan’s breakfast bowl on the table. ‘Oh, don’t be so fucking ridiculous! Are you telling me every woman who goes back to work after she’s had a baby is secretly a
homicidal maniac? Get real, Marc! This is the twenty-first century. Women have careers too, or hadn’t you heard?’

For a frozen moment, you could hear a pin drop. Marc steps forward and pushes his face into mine.

‘Who the
fuck
,’ he hisses, ‘do you think you are?’

I flinch. Perhaps I may have stepped over the line a little. Frankly, I don’t give a shit about my job right now, but the last thing Clare needs is to come home and have to deal with
everything on her own, particularly with Poppy still so sick.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say quickly. ‘I didn’t mean that. I’m just a bit stressed out . . .’

He looks like he wants to hit me. ‘You fucking women. You all stick together, don’t you? For all I know, you’re in on this with her.’

‘That’s not fair! I’m just trying to—’

Upset by the raised voices, Rowan starts to wail. Marc picks up his bowl and shoves it at me. ‘Why don’t you do what you’re paid to do, and look after my son, instead of
interfering in something that’s none of your fucking business?’

‘But what about Clare? Did you get her a lawyer? You can’t just leave her at the—’

‘I’ll deal with Clare,’ he says grimly. ‘She’s my wife, and this is my family. It has nothing to do with you. Stay out of it.’ He picks up his briefcase, and
turns in the doorway. ‘And if you ever . . .
ever
. . . speak to me like that again, I’ll make sure you’re thrown out so fast your feet don’t even touch the
ground.’

‘Marc’s been amazing,’ Clare sighs. ‘I’d never have got through this without him. He’s been so supportive.’

The bastard shifts uncomfortably on the sofa. At least he has the grace not to catch my eye.

I realize I’ve made a permanent and dangerous enemy. The first chance he gets, he’ll find an excuse that forces Clare to fire me.

Well, screw him. Clare pays me, not him. She’s the one in charge. It took me a while to figure it out, but I finally twigged why he was so quick to believe the worst of her. He
wanted
to. He wants her to be in the wrong, so he can feel better about what he’s done.

‘Such a pity Marc couldn’t go down to the police station with you,’ I say sweetly.

‘I was a bit upset at first. But that’s all forgotten now, darling,’ she adds quickly. ‘As you said, someone had to stay home to organize things. And Davina’s
lawyer did a brilliant job. I’m so glad Marc called her. She can be a bit difficult, I know, but she’s marvellous in a crisis.’

Marc
called her? Excuse me,
I
was the one who picked up the bloody telephone.

Clare squeezes his hand. ‘I’m so relieved it’s all over. Honestly, Jenna, they’d got me to the point where I didn’t know which way was up. I was almost ready to
believe I
had
given poor Poppy that salt.’ She shudders. ‘The important thing is, she’s well enough to come home tomorrow. That’s what we have to focus on
now.’