Page 22 of The Accidental Nanny
“You’re kidding me, he’s imaginary.” I look at Ace for help.
“Won’t work,” he warns.
“Seriously, we have to go back for an imaginary horse?” I put my hands on my hips.
“Yes,” Eden screams.
We manage to get to school just in time, although the kids had forgotten about Alfie by then. I had underestimated how long it would take with a five and eight-year-old. They were arguing over the same hand to hold, as they both wanted to walk on my right. We show up just as the gates are closing. I rush them in, leaving Ace to go to his classroom, and then take Eden to reception.
Outside, a group of mothers are talking by the gates. They’re standing right in the middle of the path and making it difficult for me to pass.Stupid people.
“Excuse me,” I say in my most sarcastic voice, giving a false smile.
“Sorry,” the mums reply, parting slightly so I can get past. They aren’t sorry, and I’m sure that I am nothing more than an inconvenience to their conversation.
“Did I see you with Ace and Eden?” one of the mothers asks.
I want to roll my eyes, but I don’t. This is the kids’ school. “Yes, you did.”
“I’ve not seen you here before. Are you a babysitter?”
God, this woman is nosy. “I’m their nanny,” I say.
I don’t want to divulge too much information to this person. Alex seems quite private; I’ve already pissed him off and I’m on my last warning. Getting the sack after day two isn’t part of my plan.
“George and Ace are best friends. George was asking about a play date this weekend.”
“You’ll be best messaging Alex about that. I only work Monday to Friday,” I tell the nosy woman.
“Could you give me his number? I only have Julia’s.”
“Umm, you give me your number, and I will pass it on.”
This woman is in her mid-thirties. I notice no wedding ring on her finger, which is something that somehow doesn’t seem right. I don’t think she is after a playdate—at least not for George. I get my phone out, typing in her name and number as she rolls it off her tongue—I store it as ‘bitch face’ rather than Penny.
“I’ve got to go,” I tell the women, and head away quickly. When I look behind me, the four of them are all still staring at me.
Jill is in the kitchen when I return home.
“Hello, darling,” Jill greets me, a comforting tone to her voice. “Alex said you need some cooking, washing, and ironing lessons. That man can’t cook either.”
“Hi, Jill.” I smile at her. “I need to go shopping as well. Ace wants…”
“Lasagne.” She nods, then searches through the cupboards to see what else might be needed. She already has an extensive list on the kitchen unit that she has written down.
“We’re good to go,” Jill proclaims. She grabs Alex’s bank card. “I’m not paying. I do enough.”
Shopping with Jill is more fun than I imagined it would be. She’s funny, kind, and doesn’t treat me like a child.Loaded with several shopping bags and everything we can possibly need, and I drive us back home.
“Let’s make a start,” Jill says after we put the shopping away.
I follow her instructions bit by bit as we assemble and mix the ingredients for dinner. It’s amazing to think I made a meal.
“See, it’s easy,” Jill says as we put the food in the fridge, ready to be cooked later in the oven.
“I couldn’t do it without you.”
“If nobody has shown you before, how do you expect to learn? Tomorrow, we’ll tackle the ironing.”
