Page 10 of Love at First Sight

Nannying victory number two: gender-neutral gingerbread.

‘Come on,’ I say, and his hand slips into mine. ‘Tell me all about your day, and don’t leave a single detail out.’

We linger in the café because Ali is out with her new fella, Vinnie, so there’s no rush to get home for dinner. As we walk through the store and down to the café, I think I see Cal about twelve million times. Wishful thinking is onehell of a drug! I hear all about the invite Henry has got for Octavia’s party at the trampoline park, and how in the Victorian times if you were naughty you had to wear a white coned hat with a ‘D’ for dunce on it and stand in the corner. Apparently it was vegetarian meatballs and lemon cake for lunch, and Penelope B (not to be confused with Penelope K) was sick on the carpet and had to go home.

‘Can I tell Mummy about my spelling test?’ he asks, when he’s done with his snack. He loves to play on my phone, and knows my pin to unlock it, how to get to messages and how to press record. Ali is very much about a smartphone-free childhood, except when it comes to Henry staying in touch withher. He unlocks my phone to record the voice memo.

‘Mummy, I got nine out of ten on my spelling test and Penelope B threw up on the carpet! I fell over at lunch but didn’t get a bump note because it didn’t hurt. Can we have pizza for tea? I love you, Mummy! You’re the best mummy in the world!’

Henry looks up at me, and adds, ‘And Jessie is the best nanny in the world, bye!’

‘You’re a sweetie,’ I tell him. ‘That makes me feel really nice inside, when you say a kind thing like that. Thank you!’

Henrylovesto be told how he’s made you feel – that he’s been a good boy. Punishments and negative consequences don’t work on him at all, but incentivise him with a reward or a compliment and he’d not only go get the moon for you, he’d go back up for the stars, too.

‘On y va?’I say, because yes, this seven-year-olddoesspeak French. A little, anyway; they have lessons at school. I must admit it’s quite nice to dust off my rustyfrançaisfrom school.

‘Oui,’ says Henry. ‘Merci!’

Before I slip my phone into my bag, I see a row of unicorn and heart emojis from Ali – presumably as a reply to Henry’s missive – and a text from my dad.

Still on for tomorrow?

I send back ayes!with a smiley face. I haven’t seen him as much as I used to, lately, and I miss him. A wee daughter-and-dad brunch is just what I need. Some him-and-me time. I’ve got loads to fill him in on, not least the business plan I finally polished off this morning for Stray Kids. After talking to Cal about it, I’m feeling like I need to get a shimmy on and maybe, actually, finally … go for it. Maybe that’s the reason I had to cross his path: for inspiration to follow my dream. Perhaps that’s all the universe had in mind for me.

No. No! Cal and I are meant for more than that. We have to be! THAT CONNECTION!

Urgh. As much as I try to be rational about him, that little voice in the back of my head is determined to be heard.

On the bus home it’s busy because we’ve hit peak commuter traffic, but Henry is such a Londoner, hopping aboard and finding a spot near the doors with ease.

‘You sit,’ I tell him, when we spy there’s only one free seat. The woman at the window looks up and smiles.

‘I’m getting off at the next stop,’ she says to me, and then, turning to Henry, adds, ‘I’ll let you sit with your mum, darlin’. Excuse me.’

‘She’s not my mum,’ Henry says, cheeks flushing. We’ve had this before: he loves me, but naturally he loves his mother more. He has no patience for anybody getting my role confused.

‘I’m the nanny,’ I explain, letting the woman pass. She nods.

‘Well, he’s lucky to have you,’ she says. ‘Kids are your purpose in this world. I can tell.’

I watch the woman descend the stairs, thinking how nice it is she’d say so, and then turn my attention back to Henry. We share AirPods and listen to Henry’s special ‘Taking the Bus’ playlist on the way home, watching the world go by on the pavements on the other side of the glass. TheToy Storytheme tune andAvengers: Endgamesong wash over us as I give his little hand a squeeze. Henry looks up at me, giving me his biggest smile and squeezing my hand in return. Love for him courses through me. He’s special, and being his nanny is an honour.

I meant what I said: if I can’t have my own family, at least there’s this.

‘Me and Rex and Albert and Lily have decided that since ancient Egypt is so far away,’ Henry says as we walk hand in hand from the bus stop to the park, ‘we’ll have to go overnight. We’ll go after school but then come back the next morning.’ Henry has bartered getting twentyminutes’ play instead of going home to do reading homework immediately, since it’s nearing the end of term and this is England, so making the most of the weather is a must.

‘Right,’ I say. ‘And how long does it take to get to ancient Egypt?’

‘Four hours.’ Henry nods, matter-of-factly. ‘Soages. Can I go on the slide?’

I take his backpack off him. ‘Put this on,’ I say, handing him his cap. ‘And you can do whatever you want. I’ll be sat right here if you need me.’

Henry shoots off, running up the climbing frame and delighting in seeing another child he knows. They engage in a spirited discussion that results in them taking their shoes off and throwing them down the slide, then going after them on their bellies to save them. Meanwhile I perch on a rock under the shade of a sycamore tree, and pull out my phone to let Ali know where we are.

India has texted.Been thinking, it says.We need to make wanted posters for the mystery man!! If the only thing we know about him is that he shops at Whole Foods, then we need to print off a plea for him to text you, so when he’s there next he sees it!

That’s so India. There’s no way she’d do that for herself, but she’ll champion the notion to the extreme for somebody else. I can’t put up wanted posters in Whole Foods! Every Tom, Dick and Harry will end up reaching out – it’ll be dick pic central, and not in the nice, solicited way either. And it’s pretty full on, too. Cal could see it and decidenotto text because it’s too … too … brash.

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