When I phoned her she sounded so nice and friendly. She was articulate, polite and almost too good to be true. I offered her the job on the spot and she in turn accepted my offer without even the slightest hesitation. Hurrah!
She is arriving on Monday and I’m so excited. I am going to paint her room this weekend with kind permission from my landlord, and I’m going to give her my Laura Ashley cushions that I bought on eBay for her sofa. I’ve also got her a new duvet and pillow covers to go with her curtains. They’re pink and white and very feminine. I think she’ll love living here. I have a really good feeling about this. Hopefully Bernadette will be worth the wait! Unfortunately John is still teething quite badly and my heart goes out to him. He’s having a hard time sleeping. If I have five hours solid sleep I am over the moon with joy. I don’t know what I did with my time before he came along. I can’t even remember the last time I had a lie-in. My life is passing by in a whirl of nappies, bottle feeds, heaps of laundry, Bonjela, soothers, and exhaustion.
Sometimes I feel guilty for the way I’m feeling. I should be overjoyed to have a baby when I know there’s thousands of women out there who would dearly love one but can’t conceive but I’d love it if now and again I could have some free time. I’d relish even half an hour to myself during the day. I dream about being able to walk along the promenade in Bray without the pram for once, listening to my favourite iPod tunes. Am I a bad mother
for craving those simple little life luxuries? Before I was a mum I wouldn’t even have considered any of those activities a treat. I mean, what on earth did I do with all my free time before Baby John came along? I can’t believe I took it all for granted. All my friends have practically disappeared. It’s like they all disappeared into a big black hole together, never to be seen again. The ones who promised to baby-sit never did, not that I blame them really. It’s no fun looking after a six-month old, especially if he isn’t even theirs. But, for example, Sally, whom I considered a very close friend before, keeps posting messages on my Facebook page telling me publicly that she misses me so much which is weird. I mean, I’ve only moved out to Bray, not the Bahamas. Bray is really only a few minutes on the DART so it’s not like I’m based in the middle of nowhere. And anyway the views from the train are fabulous when you’re coming out to Bray so it’s not a boring journey at all. I wish more people would make the effort to visit me. I mean, it’s so much easier for somebody without a pram to travel on public transport.
The first time I took Baby John on the bus I was terrified. There is only one space on the bus for a pram so I was wondering what would happen if another mummy with one got on the bus? Then I found out that it’s first come, first served. Because I was on the bus with my pram, the driver told the mummy at the next stop that she couldn’t get on the bus with hers because I was already on the bus with mine, and I felt so guilty as I looked out the window at her crestfallen face. Especially as it had just begun to rain. But the nice thing about travelling with a pram is that most people are very decent about helping you get the
cumbersome vehicle on and off trains and buses. Men are especially gallant about helping, and opening doors, and that kind of stuff. I think seeing a helpless mummy with a baby brings out their kind nature. Okay, I’m in the chemist’s now so I must concentrate. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of baby brain but I have an extremely bad dose of it at the moment. Even yesterday I went to the Spar shop specifically to get nappies and I came back with bread and milk and no Pampers. When I came home and discovered that I was
nappy-less I nearly cried and had to go all the way back to the shops again. My poor aching feet didn’t thank me a jot! So now I need Bonjela for the teething, nappy-rash cream and aspirin for myself. I pay for my goods, shake my head sorrowfully when I’m asked if I have a customer loyalty card (no, because I never seem to have the time to fill out the application
form) and then I head for home. Monday really can’t come quickly enough.
I just cannot wait to meet the real Bernadette in person. She seems so lovely and nice and normal. I placed fresh flowers in her room today on the windowsill and they smell divine. I really hope she likes them, and that she’s not allergic to pollen or anything. Now that would be just my luck!
Tomorrow first thing I’m going to bake a cake so when she arrives we can have tea and cake and it’ll be a nice welcome for her. I’m not going to ask her to do any chores or anything when she first arrives as I intend to allow her settle in but, hopefully, if the weather permits she can come for a nice walk with myself and John and get a feel for the area.
This evening, once John is put down in his cot, I’m going to do something I haven’t done in a long time, and that’s watch a girlie DVD with a generous glass of red wine. Well, why wouldn’t I celebrate? It’s been the toughest six months of my life raising a baby all by myself and soon part of my life will be my own again. I haven’t been this excited since I was expecting Santa as a little girl.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I was woken up this morning, long before my alarm clock went off, by the seagulls calling out to each other as they circled above our small apartment complex. As it was a nice and bright morning with clear skies I got up with a spring in my step, washed and dressed myself and
then went to wake the baby. He was none too pleased about getting up so early however. John isn’t an early bird. He definitely likes a lie-on in the mornings. So many people tell me I’m lucky to have a baby who doesn’t wake at five demanding to be fed, but John is the complete opposite. He never feels like rising until at least eight and sometimes later than that. Mind you, he’s a bit of a party animal at night. He often refuses to go to sleep before ten
which can be very annoying, especially if there’s something that I want to watch on TV. But overall he’s a good sleeper. “Come on, baby! Up you get now! This is going to be
a very special day for us today.”
He lay still. Not budging. In his little opinion it was just another morning and he wasn’t ready to embrace it yet.
“Come on, pet! Let’s get up. We’ll get you some yummy breakfast and then put you in the bath so you’ll be lovely and clean for Bernadette. Won’t that be nice?”
A groan indicated immense displeasure at being woken from his dream. He turned away from me with a little sigh. I briefly wondered what babies dreamed about. Did they dream about bunnies and teddies and other babies? I often saw John flinch in his sleep and he tossed and turned an awful lot. He seemed to dream a lot. Did he dream of me? I’d love to have known.
John cried a little when I lifted him out of his wooden cot. Not a sorrowful cry, more of a cranky one. It didn’t last long. Once he was in the bath, he forgot he was cross, and started to play with his yellow toy duck. I wanted him to be nice and clean for Bernadette. I badly
needed to create a good impression. I was going to dress my baby in a little cream-coloured outfit with matching hat – a present from an auntie which I had always thought was too good to use before now. John, as always, loved his bath. He has this white plastic bath seat which he can sit in and chuckle and gurgle and splash all around him, playing with his rubber duck
and his bath storybook. He was a picture of contentment now. For a fleeting moment, I felt guilty. I only had this one little boy and couldn’t cope. Did I really have to pay another woman, a stranger, to share these precious moments with my beloved son? Could I not be bothered myself? But then I chided myself for feeling guilty. Most women felt slightly guilty for hiring a child minder, didn’t they? I wondered how my own mother had raised us
with no help at all. How did she do it? My dad had worked in England on building sites until I was ten years old and then had to come home due to a back injury. My mother, who is an ex-nurse, had held the fort all that time. No childminders, au pairs or nannies in sight. I
really wondered how she and all the other hardworking women of her generation managed to raise large families. Raising children was still considered a fairly thankl
ess job. In society anyway. Yvonne, one of the ladies from the book club, had once told me that she could literally see the light fade from people’s eyes when her answer was ‘I’m a stay-at-home mum’ to the pertinent and oft-asked dinner-party question ‘What do you do?’ In reality raising kids was the hardest job of all. At least in an office you got your coffee-break and your
lunch break and in many cases you clocked out at 5.00p.m. With motherhood there was never a clocking-out. Still, I wasn’t complaining. It had been my choice to have a baby. Nobody had forced me into it. I was right there at the conception! And although I had never
envisioned being a single mum struggling financially, the reward of seeing John smile for the first time or hearing him babble back at me was more exciting than any work promotion or fancy cocktails on a Friday evening with work colleagues, and worth more than all the millions in the world.
I’m doing this for you, darling John, I thought silently as I dabbed my son’s head gently with a sponge. I’m doing this so that I can go back to work and provide for you and – I won’t lie either – I’m doing it to keep myself a little sane.
John was clean, fed, bathed and changed and was happily playing on his play mat wearing his best outfit when the front door bell rang. I felt my heart lurch a little. So this was it! Bernadette was here. It was almost like welcoming a brand-new member to the family. I stood up and looked at myself anxiously in the hall mirror. I looked fine despite the dark circles under my eyes. I wiped away a bit of smudged mascara with the tip of my finger. My heart was beating a little faster than usual. Good God, this was as bad as going on a date!
With slightly clammy hands, I opened the front door with a big smile. There she was. Bernadette. She looked exactly like she did in her photo. Fresh-faced, friendly and very Irish-looking with a smattering of freckles on her pale face. She wore navy jeans and a belted white bomber jacket and had her brown hair tied back in a ponytail. She held out a hand, but I reached out and hugged her instead. Shaking hands was too formal for somebody you were welcoming in to be part of the family.
“Did you have any trouble finding the place?” I asked, picking up her very large suitcase and heaving it in from the porch. “Wow! This is heavy.”
“I know,” she laughed. “It is a bit. I have my whole life in there! I’d no trouble getting here at all. I just took a taxi from the train station.”
“Take off your coat and sit down in the sitting room and relax. John is in there on his play mat. I’m sure you’re dying to meet him.”
“Eh, yeah,” Bernadette said awkwardly, following me into the room. “Oh, he’s cute.”
I put down the suitcase and picked John up. He was dribbling onto his best outfit.
“Would you like to hold him?” I asked Bernadette.
She shrugged non-committedly. “Sure, why not?”
I felt myself flinch. Something wasn’t quite right here. There was no light in Bernadette’s eyes. She had only been here less than five minutes and looked bored already. What was wrong? But I then decided to banish my negative thoughts. After all, it was only normal to be cautious when meeting another woman to whom you were about to entrust your only beloved child. It would take more than a few minutes to properly break the ice.
I smiled at Bernadette who gave me a stiff smile back. She held the baby awkwardly in her arms. For one who had clearly stated on her CV that she adored babies, it didn’t look like it now. “Would you like a cup of tea?”
Bernadette shook her head.
“Or coffee? Or even a glass of water, perhaps?”
“No, honestly, I’m grand.”
“Okay, if you’re sure,” I said amiably, reclaiming my baby. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room. I’m sure you’re looking forward to getting settled in.”
She followed me wordlessly. I showed her the wardrobe I had bought for her in a closing-down sale in Bray, which had been delivered the day before. “I’m sure you’ll have enough space there for your belongings, but if not let me know.”
The girl had a nonchalant look on her face. I took a deep breath and said nothing else. Maybe Bernadette was just painfully shy. Or perhaps she was a bit overwhelmed
about moving to the city from a small country town. She might have said a teary goodbye earlier to her mum and dad. A boyfriend, even? I thought it was best to give her a
bit of space to gather herself together. “I’ll be in the kitchen with John if you need me.”
“Okay,” said Bernadette. “Eh . . .” she began again but then hesitated.
“Yes?” I asked eagerly.
“I was just wondering, eh . . . is it just yourself and the baby here?” She looked around the room as though she was expecting some madman to jump out of the closet any second.
“Yes, it’s just me and John,” I smiled. “I’m not married,” I added with forced gaiety.
“Oh. Okay, fair enough.”
I forced another over-the-top smile and then left Bernadette to unpack in peace.
Back down in the kitchen again, I strapped John into his baby seat and put on the kettle. I needed a strong mug of coffee after that not-so-smooth getting-to-know-you moment. Or maybe a stiff vodka. No, I’m joking. But I did feel a little uneasy for some reason. There was
something funny about Bernadette’s demeanour and I just couldn’t put a finger on it. Then again, what had I been expecting? A really life-like Mary Poppins, complete with big black umbrella landing on the chimney and singing songs at the top of her voice? Get real, Kaylah, I scolded myself, you’ve seen one too many Disney films as a child. I sat down on a chair and switched on the TV to drown out the sound of silence. Bernadette didn’t seem to be making too much noise as she was unpacking. In fact there wasn’t even a sound coming from her room.
Maybe she had decided to lie down for a while. She was probably tired after getting the train up to Dublin. Perhaps she hadn’t been able to sleep very much due to the excitement of starting a new job this week. I settled into watching a BBC programme, one of the ones I loved so much about people buying rundown properties and then doing them up to sell for a profit. They always gave me lots of ideas about the things I would do one day if I was ever lucky enough to get a foot on the property ladder. I sincerely hoped I wouldn’t be paying rent all my life. It was money down the drain really. If only it wasn’t so damn difficult to save a deposit! Anyway, even if I did have a deposit, would I ever get a mortgage loan? Everyone was saying the banks still weren’t lending. I wondered how much hope I would realistically have, being a single mum with no savings and no permanent job. It was kind of depressing thinking about it. Just as I was reaching for my first chocolate biscuit of the day to satisfy my sweet tooth, a rap on the kitchen door made me jump. Bernadette was standing at the door. She was still wearing her coat. Odd, I thought. It wasn’t that cold in here, was it? I had made sure to leave the heat on high so that Bernadette would feel warm and comfortable.
“Hey!” I gave her a warm smile. “Are you all unpacked?”
Bernadette shifted from one foot to another. “Well, actually no. I’ll probably have to unpack later.” She looked at her watch somewhat dubiously. “I’m kind of under pressure right now.”
“Pressure?”
“Yeah, sorry. I know it sounds bad, but . . .”
“But what?” I frowned, feeling utterly confused. What was Bernadette talking about? Pressure to do what? “Is everything okay?” I pressed her gently. “There’s nothing wrong, is there? Can I help you with anything? Would you like a cup of tea?”
“No, thanks. Honestly no. But, eh . . . I wonder would you have the number of a local taxi firm? I’m meeting another family in Foxrock in half an hour and I don’t want to be late.”
I gulped, feeling momentarily stunned. I needed clarification. Bernadette was happy to offer it.
“You see,” she began, as I listened in bewilderment, “I need to meet a few families this week. I am not one hundred per cent sure I will take this job, although I
am very grateful for the offer . . . you and your son seem very nice.”
I opened my mouth to say something but remained speechless. I think I was in mild shock.
“So,” Bernadette continued, in a breezy manner as though she were merely discussing the weather or something, “I intend to meet up with a few families this week, and then by Friday I will have made the decision regarding what I feel is best for me. I’ll give all the families my answer on Friday. Is that okay with you?”
I was so flabbergasted I couldn’t speak. I held John in my arms and remained silent.
Bernadette glanced at her watch again. “Yeah, so I’d better run. I’d probably be quicker getting a taxi at the rank at the train station. Sorry about this. I hope you don’t think I’m rude.”
And then she was gone.
CHAPTER NINE
I must have stood looking at the slammed door without moving for at least a minute, although it felt like much, much longer. I was completely and utterly bewildered. What had just happened there? Had I just imagined that totally bizarre scene or was it for real? Baby John tugging urgently at my long straggly hair brought me back to reality. I put him down on his play mat. The phone rang suddenly and I picked it up after one ring.
“Hello, darling, it’s your mum.”
Mum always tells me when it’s her on the phone. Like I never would have guessed otherwise.
“Oh, hi, Mum,” I said.
“Is everything okay? You sound exhausted.”
“Do I? Well, I am exhausted actually.”
“You poor thing. Now, hopefully when this new girl arrives, she’ll help you with your work load. You need someone to give you a break so that you can organise yourself a bit better. What time are you expecting her?”
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