I glanced across at Alysha and was amazed to see that she was blushing. This was a woman who’d allowed a reality television crew to film her pap smear, but was too shy to sing with her daughter. I silently wished she would let go and live a little. At first just her lips moved, as she mouthed along with the words, and then she grew louder and more confident.
Soon the three of us were belting out the song, stamping our feet and clapping our hands, as the reality television cameras continued to whirr overhead.
I once read a quote by an American journalist named Lester Bangs, who said ‘The only true currency in this bankrupt world is what you share with someone else when you’re uncool.’ Maybe I should have this printed on a T-shirt for Alysha. From the look on her face, I’d be willing to bet that she’d have chosen that moment with her daughter over her entire divorce settlement.
•
I hadn’t heard a peep from Tommy Grant since he rescued me from the paparazzi; however, that didn’t mean I hadn’t had any excitement in my personal life. I’d had a job offer, which in itself wasn’t unusual, but it wasn’t in my usual line of business.
I’d been invited to spend a fortnight on the superyacht of an Oscar-winning director called Roger Kane, but he didn’t want me to spend time with his daughters; instead, he wanted me to spend time with his nannies. He’d requested that I act as their mentor and school them on how to handle privileged children.
I would be paid $850 per nanny, per day. That meant a pay cheque of over $71,000 for one fortnight’s work. I’d also be flown to Hawaii, where the superyacht was docked.
‘But I don’t need to go,’ I told Alysha. ‘I’m just telling you about the job offer in case you heard it through the grapevine and thought I was hiding it from you. I wanted you to know that they approached me, I’m not job-hunting.’
I hadn’t expected her to give me the time off when her home life was currently so unsettled. However, it helped that Roger Kane happened to be her ex-husband’s biggest rival. If Roger’s life was easier, that would make Sir Cameron’s life harder. She also seemed genuinely excited to have the opportunity to spend extra time with her daughters. I had offered to find a nanny to cover my workload, but she insisted that she could take care of them.
‘We don’t need any more strangers in this house,’ said Alysha. ‘I’ll see if their grandma can come and help out. It’ll be nice to have a houseful of Appleby women for a fortnight.’
Eugenie was delighted and sent me a box of my favourite chocolates as a thankyou for leaving them. I tried not to be offended and hoped they’d want me back at the end of my working holiday.
The morning I left, the six sisters lined up in the hallway to wave me off in a taxi. Goldie had just given her mummy a makeover; Alysha’s hair looked like a bird’s nest, she had a pink heart drawn on her cheek in felt tip and a moustache drawn on in lipstick. After I kissed each child goodbye, Goldie piped up, ‘Now it’s your turn to kiss Mommy.’
Alysha and I exchanged glances, both looking as uncomfortable as each other as Goldie started chanting, ‘Kiss, kiss, kiss,’ with her voice getting louder and louder. I was about to step in and silence her when I saw Alysha—who’d been standing as still as a statue—flicker. Was she leaning in? Oh my god, she was! I was sure it would just be an air kiss, because of the no-touching clause, but our faces actually touched, and the children erupted into cheers.
It took all my effort not to laugh as Alysha blushed and looked away. She really wasn’t used to public displays of genuine affection. As I closed the door of the taxi I heard Harlow say, ‘Mommy, you’re the only grown-up left!’
I predicted that while I was away for next two weeks instructing nannies in my yacht–classroom, Alysha would be learning plenty of lessons of her own.
•
‘I’m a supernanny on a superyacht,’ I thought to myself, as my helicopter touched down on the top deck of Roger Kane’s floating mansion. To be counted as a superyacht a boat must be over seventy-nine-feet long, which is roughly the size of a tennis court. From my estimation, this boat was almost double that size. If I stood at one end I couldn’t see the other.
A deckhand, who introduced himself as Josh, helped me off the chopper. ‘There will be no one but staff on board until tomorrow,’ he explained. ‘You can set up your classes in the conference room or the movie theatre, or anywhere really. The entire yacht is at your disposal, so there’s no shortage of options.’
During my career I’ve stayed on some of the world’s biggest superyachts, owned by royalty, presidents and mining heirs. However, Roger Kane’s $200 million mega-super-yacht was on another level. He co-owned it with his best friend, the CEO of a mobile phone company, and it was the ultimate boys’ toy. It wouldn’t be out of place in a Bond movie.
I tried to look unimpressed as Josh gave me a tour of the ship’s seven decks, which included a rock-climbing wall, surf simulator and a rifle range. All the windows were bulletproof, the cinema was soundproof and the yacht was fitted with an ‘anti-paparazzi laser shield’ that was designed to detect and block camera lenses. The entire yacht was also fitted with sensors so the doors opened automatically when you approached them. There was an underwater garage where a mini-submarine was stored next to a limousine. According to Josh there was two million dollars’ worth of art on board, which couldn’t be insured because it was located at sea.
The name of the yacht was written on the outside of the boat in twenty-four-carat gold but had been chipped slightly during a recent trip to the Arctic. According to my tour guide, Roger preferred to sail in colder climates and felt more creative when in the presence of icebergs.
‘Where is Roger now?’ I asked Josh, worried that I wouldn’t make the best impression if I bumped into my new boss in the denim jumpsuit I’d travelled in.
‘Oh, he’s in Egypt scouting a location for his next movie,’ said Josh. ‘He took the children so they could see the pyramids. They’ll be no one but staff on board the yacht for the next few weeks.’
He laughed as he saw my stunned expression. ‘Don’t look so concerned!’ he said, ‘This is a good thing. We’ve got no one to answer to.’
As this news sank in I felt a funny feeling in my ribs. I couldn’t put my finger on it for a while, and then I realised that I didn’t feel anxious. The unusual feeling in my chest was relaxation. For the first time in as long as I could remember I wasn’t being watched by a parent or a security guard.
When I explained this to Josh his eyes lit up with mischief. ‘So, how are you going to celebrate your temporary freedom?’ he asked. ‘I have some very good suggestions . . .’
It seemed the yacht’s crew liked to party when their boss was away, and make the most of the ship’s special features. ‘The liquor cabinet is well stocked and the whirlpool is warm enough for skinny dipping,’ added Josh. ‘If we invite the security team to join in they’ll turn off the cameras.’
However, I knew exactly what I wanted to do, and it didn’t involve getting drunk or getting naked with strangers. There was only one way I wanted to rebel that evening. I planned to do the one thing that I could never ever do at home because I didn’t want to upset the children, set a bad example or be caught on camera. It was the one thing I swore I’d never do in my boss’s home, but now I was away and nothing was stopping me.
I said goodnight to Josh, went to my private cabin and shut the door firmly behind me. Then I sat on the floor and burst into tears. I let out the sob that I’d spent months and months suppressing. I cried like one of the children I cared for, until I was hot, sweaty and exhausted. I cried in an ugly way, not pretty crying, like a damsel in a movie.
I wasn’t even sure what I was crying for, but I certainly felt better afterwards.
16
LESSON 1
THE GOLDEN RULES FOR ELITE NANNIES
Know the mummy tribes
Wealthy mums fall into three different categories. The first is the ‘absentee mother’, who is always away from home, w
orking, travelling or socialising. The second is the ‘disconnected mother’, who is physically at home but mentally not present. She can be in the same room as her children and still act like a stranger. I call the third category the ‘nanny watchers’. These are the stay-at-home mothers who don’t work and appear to do nothing, but still have a full-time nanny as well as housekeepers.
All three tribes share one factor—none of them want to admit to having a nanny.
Make sure you sleep
Re-energise yourself. When you’re a live-in nanny you will work a lot more hours than you’re contracted to. Even on your day off you’re still on call, and you’ll be woken at 6 a.m. by kids turning on Sesame Street or parents screaming down the phone. Grab sleep whenever you can, even if it’s a half-hour break while you’re waiting for one of the kids to finish their singing class. Being always on the go and being watched is exhausting, so bank sleep when you can.
Change the passwords on your phone and email regularly
In a high-security house you’re on camera all day, every day, and a lot of them are positioned above your head, so they can easily see the passwords you’re typing in to a laptop or iPhone. You don’t want your passwords to fall into the wrong hands—whether it’s your boss or a journalist. (The security team aren’t above taking bribes from reporters.) I change all my passwords every three weeks to be on the safe side.
•
I had my golden rules stuck to the wall behind me when the nannies arrived for their first class the next morning. I knew I had my work cut out when, during our first lesson, a nanny put her hand up and asked, ‘Have you ever been to the Oscars?’ I’d spent the last two hours talking about first aid procedures, so the question couldn’t have been less relevant.
Sadly, I’ve met a lot of nannies over the years who have absolutely no caring instincts and really shouldn’t be working in the industry. Some are lured in by the money, while others just love the idea of rubbing shoulders with celebrities. In a fair world, people wouldn’t employ them, but many slip through the cracks, especially if they can speak a second language. Some parents would rather their child have a bilingual nanny than one who is proven to be loving and nurturing.
Of the six nannies I had to teach, four were in their early twenties and were relatively new to nannying. The remaining two were older than me and had actually been working in the industry for much longer. However, as I quickly discovered, the veterans were totally apathetic. And most of the newbies just wanted to marry a millionaire or become famous by proxy.
‘We’re going to start with the basics,’ I told them. ‘You might think this is obvious stuff, but attention to detail is important.’ I gave every student a Baby Born doll to look after and asked her to show me how to change a nappy, how to rock the baby to sleep and how to make a bottle. Even these simple tasks were too difficult for some of the nannies. It wasn’t that they were clueless so much as that they were easily distracted, constantly updating Twitter or checking messages on the dating app Tinder.
On our lunch break I found a Baby Born floating face-down in the swimming pool. The nannies were meant to carry the dolls around all day, caring for them as they would a real newborn. It was a test to see how well they could keep their attention on the job despite the salubrious setting, but it seemed their attention was waning. A 24-year-old nanny called Susie had accidentally knocked it in while repositioning her sun lounger so she could get a better tan.
Unfortunately Susie was sharing a cabin with a 33-year-old nanny called Lola, who seemed to be a bad influence. Lola had spent the past five years working for an eighties supermodel who was currently trying to make a comeback. ‘I used to test shades of fake tan on the five-year-old’s stomach,’ I overheard her telling Susie. ‘She had the same skin tone as me, so it was dead handy.’
The next night, over dinner, she revealed that she once spiked her boss’s cookies with laxatives the week before a big photo shoot. ‘What?’ she said, when I glared at her. ‘She shouldn’t be eating cookies anyway when she’s a model. I was just making sure she could fit into the dresses, otherwise she’d be on the warpath and I’d be in the firing line.’
By the end of the first week, I was growing more and more despondent. I really wanted to help these women but they didn’t seem to want to learn. They were far more interested in Lola’s juicy stories and trying to find out how rich I was. ‘Do you have tons and tons of money saved?’ Susie asked. ‘My number one goal is to be a millionaire by my thirtieth birthday.’
I was so determined to bring them back down to earth that I found myself only talking about the downsides of nannying. Every time Lola boasted about a VIP party she’d attended, or the diamonds she’d been gifted, I’d tell them about the time I worked for three days straight without any sleep during the Oscars, or the mother who made me fly in economy with her children while she bought a first class seat just for her fur coat.
‘There are six important points you have to remember,’ I lectured. ‘You must be tough. You must be flexible. You must learn to hold your tongue. You must have no ego. You will be abused, mistreated and walked all over. Most importantly, you are not paid to show emotion or to have an opinion. You are just the nanny—never forget that.’
Thinking about these bad moments was bringing me down, but I wanted the students to realise the reality of this industry. As I went back to my cabin at the end of the seventh day, I felt like crying again. I didn’t feel like I had been a good teacher, and I missed the Appleby children. I was hoping they might have called or texted but I hadn’t heard anything from them. I mentally kicked myself. Who are you kidding, Lindsay? They’re not your children. You’re just the hired help. The only email I’d received had come from my mother, asking if I’d RSVP’d to Will’s wedding yet.
I always carry an emergency box of Hershey’s Chocolate Kisses in my suitcase, to be given to the kids as bribes if they have a tantrum at the airport. Right now I was on the verge of a tantrum myself, so this counted as an emergency. I pulled my suitcase from under my bed and unzipped the ‘secret’ pocket under the base, between the wheels. But when I reached inside, instead of a hard box, I felt something soft. What on earth was this? Then I laughed out loud as I pulled out a teddy in the shape of a rabbit. It was a Doodle Bear—a teddy that you can write messages on in felt-tip pen. I always buy them for the children when they travel, so they can collect signatures and messages from people they meet when they’re away.
This Doodle Bear had a tag around its wrist that said ‘To the world’s number one nanny’ in Fernando’s twirling handwriting. Tears welled up in my eyes as I saw that the bear’s chest was covered in messages from the six Appleby sisters, with a little help from my best friend.
Goldie had written, ‘You plait my hair the bestest.’ Cherry had scrawled, ‘I love you because you look like me. You have white hair and blue eyeballs.’ A big pink heart had been drawn on the bear’s chest with ‘We miss you’ written inside.
I couldn’t have discovered the bear at a better time. It was just the wake-up call I needed. ‘This is what I should be teaching them about,’ I muttered, and reached into my suitcase for my laptop. I was awake until 3 a.m. making the slideshow, but I still felt energised the next morning and raring to go.
•
I asked the students to meet me in the movie theatre instead of on the top deck where we usually had our lessons. ‘What about my suntan?’ I heard Lola mutter under her breath, but I chose to ignore her. I had already uploaded my slideshow to the cinema’s projector and couldn’t wait to get started.
‘I’ve spent the past week telling you how tough this profession can be,’ I told my students. ‘I wasn’t exaggerating when I said that nannies need a thick skin, a lot of patience and nerves of steel. However, we’re not robots. Compassion and kindness are also very important qualities.’
I pressed play on the projector, and a video of me with the six Appleby sisters filled the cinema screen. It was taken during our last tri
p to the beach, when they’d buried me up to my neck in the sand. I looked ridiculous, but happy, and the children were squealing with excitement. ‘This is why we really do this job,’ I continued. ‘Today I want to share with you some of my most joyful moments.’
For the next ten minutes I showed videos and photographs of some of the children I’d cared for over my career. Every nanny has favourite children, even though we’re not meant to admit it, and often it’s the kids who are initially the most challenging who end up being the most memorable.
I showed a photograph of Timmy, a two-year-old who had never uttered a word when I started caring for him, even though his parents had taken him to the most expensive therapists in New York City. I’ll never know why he decided he wanted to speak to me of all people, but I’ll never forget the day he turned to me and said, ‘Pick me up, please.’ It took another six months of coaxing before he’d speak to any other adult, including his parents.
There was also Jordan, a seven-year-old British boy who was a total nightmare, to be honest. When I worked for his family I was covered in bruises from where he’d punch and kick me, and we just didn’t seem able to connect. When his mum drove me to the airport at the end of my three-month contract I felt like a failure, even though his mother assured me that nobody had ever been able to get through to him. Then, as I walked through the departure gate, I heard a scream behind me. It was Jordan, running towards me with tears streaming down his face. ‘I don’t want you to go,’ he cried, ‘I’ll miss you!’ His mum was crying too, as it was the first time she’d seen him show any emotion aside from anger.
As I told these stories even Lola and Susie fell silent. At the end I showed a collage of letters, pictures and Valentine’s Day cards that I’d been sent by children I’d cared for, who’d never forgotten me. Finally, I pulled out the Doodle Bear and passed it around. ‘This is why being a nanny is a privilege,’ I said. ‘The pay packet is great, but making a difference to a child’s life is even better.’
Nanny Confidential Page 16
