The Nanny (12 page)

“He-he-I-I…He. He-he-I…” she explained, vaguely conscious that that wouldn't stand up in a court of law. She pulled herself up straight and managed not to lose her balance. “I thought,” she spoke very slowly and nearly clearly, “that
heee
was a big, axey murderer.”

They turned to Josh, who was now quivering.

“Yes,” said Vanessa. “An easy mistake.” She knelt down next to Josh. “The doctor will be here as soon as possible.”

“Hi, Vanessa.” He breathed with difficulty. “Alright?”

“Why didn't you ring the doorbell?” she asked him gently.

“Lost my key. Didn't want to wake you.”

Vanessa smiled. “Oh, we have missed you, Josh. You do liven things up.”

She turned to Jo, who was now holding her head.

“Jo,” she said, getting up, “You appear to be in some pain.”

Jo nodded, then stopped.

“Did someone hit you on the head?” Vanessa came toward her.

“Yes,” explained Jo, pointing at the encyclopedia on the floor. “I did.”

Jo was surprised at how little sympathy she got.

“I thought he was an intruder,” she said, a quiver in her voice.

Vanessa was about to answer when her senses were suddenly overpowered. She froze, her eyes watering, her throat spasming. She wasn't the only one. Everyone suddenly started to shuffle away from each other, their eyes averted in embarrassment.

Vanessa's jaw dropped as she pointed in horror at Jo's bed. Has someone crapped on the duvet?” she said, holding her nose.

“Oh shit, yes, that's me,” groaned Nick. “Well it's not
me
, obviously, it's dog crap.”

 

“So let me get this straight.” Vanessa smiled slinkily at the Flying Squaddie. “You're a policeman, but you're in plain clothes.”

“That's right.” He grinned.

“Very plain clothes.”

He nodded. “Right again.'

A constable slouched behind Vanessa and her squaddie, punctuating their conversation with the occasional
sotto voce
“tosser.” Now he remembered why plain clothes thought they were better than uniform. Because women did.

Meanwhile Nick and Gerry took a statement from Jo and tried to calm her down. They failed, especially when they suggested that she put it down to experience as a dry run.

Later, as Vanessa saw six policemen off the premises, answered their questions and gave details, all without any pajama trousers on, Dick poured Jo some brandy in the kitchen and the doctor saw to Josh in her suite. There was no internal damage and no broken bones, just broken pride, a badly twisted ankle, and some very nasty bruises. Josh finally shuffled out into the kitchen and sat down slowly opposite Jo, and both sat in silence while Dick whispered to the doctor by the door. Jo felt almost as self-conscious about her naked legs under the glass table as she felt wretched for what she'd done.

Eventually she spoke to Josh.

“I-I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I thought you had an ax.”

He gave her a sardonic smile. “I've never heard it called that before,” he whispered back.

“Well well,” said Dick from the kitchen. “You'll both laugh about this someday.”

“Absolutely,” agreed Josh. “If I live that long.” He glanced up at Jo
through thick eyelashes, a glimmer of a smile on his lips. Jo wanted the ground to swallow her up. Then she wanted the ground to throw Josh down on top of her.

“I thought I was protecting the family,” she repeated in a monotone.

“Dad,” said Josh, eyes still on Jo, “please tell Inspector Clouseau here that I
am
family.”

Jo felt stung.

“Dick,” she said, ever so politely. “Please tell the Milk Tray Man here that climbing through someone's window at night and skulking around their house is not big. It's not clever, and it's not…big.”

They stared at each other for a moment.

“Now now now,” soothed Dick, handing them both mugs of hot, sweet tea. “It was a simple case of mistaken identity. You both scared each other, and you're both sorry.”

Jo and Josh eyed each other over their mugs.

“All friends?” asked Dick.

“I thought he was going to attack me,” Jo murmured over her mug.

Josh stayed staring at her over his mug, and Jo couldn't tell if he was smiling at her behind it.

“The night is yet young,” he said quietly.

Jo's head hurt so much the next morning that her first conscious thought on waking was that her brain must have outgrown her skull. Then she remembered what she'd done in the middle of the night and concluded that that an oversize brain was clearly not her problem. Her head must have shrunk.

When she opened her eyes, a piercing pain proved this. She closed them again and waited for the throbbing to subside. She resigned herself to her fate. There was absolutely no way her body would ever be able to get out of bed again. She felt strangely peaceful as she waited for the tunnel and bright light. Then her Mickey Mouse alarm clock almost hit the roof and she found herself on her feet.

When she entered the kitchen she faced a chaotic breakfast scene. Dick was moaning about how tired he was, Vanessa was saying, “Now you know what it's like,” and the children were squabbling. No one seemed to be eating much except Josh. He turned slowly to greet Jo, wincing in pain as he did so.

“Ah!” he said, postwince. “The bare-legged inspector!”

She was greeted merrily by all, and to her surprise, instead of Dick and Vanessa firing her there and then, they seemed genuinely concerned for her welfare. Dick made her coffee and toast, which was a nice thought even though she didn't have time to eat it. She took a gulp of the coffee while Vanessa got the children into their coats. With a brief but warm smile, Vanessa said, “Don't worry about walking Tallulah to nursery today. There won't be time,” then left for the office.

In the car on the way back from the school, Jo's mobile phone rang. In her usual responsible frame of mind, she'd have pulled in to take the call or ignored it. Today she took the call and revved. It was Shaun.

“Hi, babe.”

Jo took a deep breath. “I got their son beaten up in the middle of the night!” she rushed. “I thought he was a burglar! Six policemen came! I
thought he was going to attack me—oh wait, I have to turn right…” She put the phone down, turned right and picked up the phone again. “I've never been so terrified in all my life! Six policemen! We were up till three!”

She took another right turn.

“Shaun?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Did you hear what I said? I got their son attacked.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Um.” Jo thought. “I don't think so. But I was last night. I'd been out with Pippa and the girls. Oh Shaun, it was terrible.”

“Bloody hell, Jo. What the hell did you think you were up to?”

Jo fought the sudden urge to cry. She couldn't speak.

“If one of my men was drunk on the job,” continued Shaun, “I'd sack him immediately.”

“I wasn't drunk on the job, it was a Sunday,” she said, jumping with shock as she clipped her side mirror on a parked car. “I am allowed a night off, you know.”

“Well it obviously affected more than your night off, didn't it?”

Jo parked the car outside the Fitzgerald house. “You know, a bit of sympathy might be nice,” she tried.

“Too right,” said Shaun. “That family has my every sympathy.”

Jo sat motionless in the car. “I have to go now,” she said finally.

“Okay,” said Shaun. “Oh, before I forget. I can come down the weekend after next.”

“Great,” said Jo. “Bye.” She clicked off her phone.

Meanwhile, inside the house, Dick and Josh were talking at the kitchen table. “I could have sworn I heard her car,” repeated Dick. “Ah well, I'm sure it will be alright, but we'll ask just in case.”

“Do you think she's the type to mind sharing a bathroom with a stud like me?” asked Josh.

“Funnily enough we didn't ask her that at her interview.”

Josh yawned. “I'm sure it will be fine,” he said. “She's not remotely what I expected.”

“No, but she is very conscientious.”

“Except when it comes to unpacking,” said Josh. “I nearly ruptured my spleen on her rucksack.”

They heard the front door open and lowered their voices. “It's a good
sign though,” said Dick. “It means she hasn't even moved into the room you'll be moving into.”

“But I will have to walk through her room to take a piss and, of course, visit the rest of the house.”

“Well, I'm sure if you knock every time…'

“Of course.”

“Have you called the office?”

“I'll call them when you talk to Jo.”

They listened for Jo to come in. What they didn't know was that Jo had gone to the downstairs bath to wash her face and had then stood in the hall for a bit, concentrating hard. She couldn't actually remember any of the drive back home. Not great when it's not your car you're driving.

“Jo!” Dick called out from the kitchen.

“Yes!”

“We're in here.”

“Okay!” She gave her head a violent shake, as if to get the fug out of her brain, and went into the kitchen. As she opened the door, she saw Josh slip through the French doors into the garden. She was grateful to have a bit of extra time to return to normal. As she went to take out the ironing board, she was aware of him standing on the patio with his back to her, making a call.

“Um, Jo,” said Dick. “Do you have a minute?”

Not really
, thought Jo.
I have all your son's pants to iron
. “Of course,” she said.

Dick tapped the table in front of him. “Come and join me.”

Jo sat down opposite him. She smiled at him. He smiled back at her.

“So you've met Josh then,” he said.

“Yes.”

“Obviously,” he began, “it's hard to make a first impression from last night, and it's going to be hard to know how you feel at this stage, but I just wanted to know, and be honest with me, of course, but we were wondering, well, Josh was wondering, well no,
both
of us were wondering…”

Jo was all ears.

“Vanessa, of course, doesn't know yet…”

Jo leaned forward in her seat.

“Yes?”

“Well,” said Dick, sighing, “here's the thing. How would you feel about Josh moving in?”

“Oh,” she gasped.

“Here. With us.”

“Oh.”

“He's had a bit of a problem with his flatmates. They've buggered off basically, with no notice, to go traveling round the world and he couldn't find any replacements at such short notice so he lost his lease.

“Oh.”

“Yes. Shame.”

“Where would he stay?”

“In your room.”

“My room?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” She stood up suddenly. “Gosh it's hot in here, isn't it?”

“Well not your bedroom, obviously,” corrected Dick. “Your living room. Seeing as you hadn't actually properly moved into it, we didn't think you'd mind that much—”

“I don't mind at all—” said Jo, standing by the boarded-up gap in the slatted windows above the kitchen sink.

“I mean,” continued Dick, “you'd have to share the bathroom, of course—”

“That's fine—” She turned away from the patio.

“But he's very well housebroken,” continued Dick. “You'd hardly know he was there.”

She glanced back at the patio. “Mm.”

“And he's out at work all hours. When he's not out living it up, of course. Not like us old marrieds.”

“Oh.”

“So, what we, that is Josh and I—Vanessa doesn't know yet, obviously—what we wanted to know was do you mind if Josh moved into the room next to yours?'

Jo turned back to Dick. “No,” she said.

“Or…or would it be okay?”

Jo frowned. Just before she thought Dick was going to ask her again, the french doors opened behind her and Josh came in. Her greeting stuck in her throat. He didn't greet her, and she watched his slow and painful progress with increasing wretchedness.

“My boss says I can work from home for the next week,” Josh told Dick. “Luckily I brought my laptop home with me last night.”

“You're sure they don't mind?” asked Dick.

“Josh shook his head. “With my doctor's note I should be off completely, so they know they're getting more out of me than they should.”

Josh leaned against the curved work top opposite Jo and crossed his arms.

“All the children off to school then?” he asked her.

She nodded.

“Jo doesn't mind you moving in next door to her at all,” said Dick. “Do you, Jo?”

Josh gave her a serious look. She blinked.

“No of course not,” she said.

“You don't sleep in the nude or anything I should know about?” asked Josh.

“No.” She went to get the ironing out of the utility room.

“Oh. Okay. It's just me then.”

Jo gave a short laugh.

“And I promise to knock,” he added.

“Great.”

“Unless I forget of course.”

“Right.”

Josh turned to Dick. “Looks like it's all sorted then.”

“Now all we have to do is tell Vanessa tonight,” said Dick.

A shiver seemed to go round the room.

“Better let you get on with the ironing,” said Dick quietly. As he passed Jo, he leaned in to her, gave her a wink, and said, “Don't let him disturb you.”

“Oh, he disturbed me quite enough last night.” Jo tried to laugh.

“I thought perhaps you were already disturbed,” said Josh pleasantly.

 

At lunchtime, Dick was at work, Josh made calls to his office, and Jo picked up Tallulah, the ironing half-finished. Meanwhile, Vanessa was in the thick of Soho at the Groucho Club.

Members of the club sat in the bar in small, self-important groups, discussing small, self-important ideas as Max led Vanessa, Anthony, and Tom through into the restaurant beyond. Unfortunately there was no one famous in at the moment, which made everyone feel rather less impressed with themselves than they'd have liked. This particular small, self-important group sat in the corner, Vanessa facing Anthony, Max facing Tom. Because of scheduling problems with VC their big meeting had been postponed, but now it was finally time to get down to business.
Vanessa was feeling slightly shell-shocked from a combination of lack of sleep and the terror that Jo might leave. If she went home tonight to discover aliens conducting experiments on her family, she knew her first thought would be “Don't take the nanny.” And she was having one of her wretched days where she felt uncontrollable hostility toward her husband, which manifested itself in sudden rushes of anger every time she thought of him. It wasn't anything specific he'd done, it was just everything—the sight of him calmly pouring a brandy for Jo while she saw all the policemen off, the sight of him then pouring Josh a brandy while she put the children back to bed, the thought of him moaning about lack of sleep, then taking the morning off. Nothing and everything.

Anthony and Max were in high spirits, full of optimism and swaggering confidence—Max because he had all the joy of delegating every last aspect of this job to everyone else and Anthony because he was desperately trying to hide Tom's natural pessimism. He was smiling so much he was beginning to fear the onset of lockjaw.

“We're gonna knee McFarleys so hard,” exclaimed Max over coffee, “their gonads are gonna shoot out of their mouths.”

“What a beautiful image,” said Tom. “I'll see what I can do with that.”

Max laughed, and Anthony impressed them all by widening his grin further still.

“So! Guys,” said Max, in a tone Anthony and Tom had been dreading all meal. He raised his elastic eyebrows high up on his ever-expanding forehead. “Any ideas?”

The best creative team in the agency stole themselves a few precious seconds by looking at each other, then looking back at Max.

“Well,” said Anthony finally, “we did have a quick brainstorm before lunch. So we have got a few ideas.”

Max gave Vanessa a wide grin. “See what I'm saying? Geniuses, these guys.
Geniuses.
”

Anthony didn't feel the need to explain that the best idea they'd come with was a dwarf dressed as a telephone and the only slogan they'd come up with was “Competition's dwarfed by VC.”

“I'm getting together with the planner on Wednesday,” said Vanessa, “to develop the strategy, then meeting up with VC Friday
a.m
. I'll brief you guys ASAP.”

“When's the pitch?” asked Anthony.

“A fortnight today.”

“Shit!” cried Tom. “We've only got two weeks?”

“Yup,” said Max, relighting his cigar. “That's why we brought in the best.”

Tom and Anthony both finished their wine.

After lunch, they all walked back to the office, Anthony naturally falling into step beside Vanessa.

“Tom's a bit tense, isn't he?” she asked after a while.

“All the better to be creative with,” answered Anthony.

“You sure he's up to this?”

Anthony turned to her, and she had to move back slightly to stop bumping into him. He was so short, she could look into his eyes without even tilting her head. “Vanessa.”

“Hmm?”

“This is the man who
created
Bobby the Baboon.”

They locked eyes.

“You're right,” she said. “I'm sorry.”

“Hey, I understand,” said Anthony. ‘That's the “suits” jobs—to worry. And what a job you do. Don't know how you do it, to be honest. Rather you than me.'

They set off again, and, walking beside him, Vanessa pictured Dick saying the same to her about her contribution at home. She felt her blood start to simmer almost instantly.

“But it's our job to create,” Anthony was saying. “So you just leave that to us.”

She smiled a wide, relieved smile and wished she could feel so confident in her husband's abilities.

Back at the office, standing in front of Anthony in the lift, Vanessa could see him in the mirrored door collecting visual data about her body to be downloaded later. Eventually, his eyes met hers in the mirror, and he pulled a shamefaced schoolboy grin. She tutted inwardly. He must think she was born yesterday. She imagined Dick catching sight of her being ogled and smiled to herself.