Secret Nanny Club
Page 10
“Yes, we must,” Sally agreed. “Soon.”
“How about next week?” I asked, perking up. I suddenly was realising how much I had missed Sally and my girls’ nights out. It really had been way too long. Maybe I could get a baby-sitter for the evening or Mum might kindly hold the fort for a night. Or even a couple
of hours.
“Well, next week isn’t great as there’s so much on, and the week after I’m going on holidays with Robert.”
“Robert?”
“Yes, he’s the new man. Actually he’s not so new anymore. We’re together over two months. You must meet him. You would love him!”
Hmm. I think I’d love it more if he had a nice friend for me. “So where are you going on holidays?” I asked, trying not to feel envious. It seemed like the entire population of
Ireland was leaving en masse for their summer holidays.
“We’re going to Sicily for six nights. Robert is treating me.”
“Oh wow! I like the sound of that. He’s obviously quite keen.”
“I hope so! I’m dying to get away and the pictures of the hotel on the internet look amazing. Are you going away anywhere yourself this summer? Oh, by the way, how is the baby?”
“John’s fine,” I said. Surely she couldn’t have forgotten his name already? “He’s great but he’s teething now so the nights are a bit restless. It’s not easy, especially when you’re doing it on your own.”
“Oh, oh well, it’s cute that he’s getting a tooth. You must email me a photo when you get the chance.”
“I will.”
“Listen, Kaylah, I hope you don’t think I’m being cheeky or anything but I am just wondering if I could borrow your lovely emerald-green dress for next Saturday? Robert has invited me to a black-tie ball and I don’t have anything to wear. If you don’t want me to, that’s okay, I understand.”
I was flummoxed. I really was. I hadn’t heard from Sally in months and now she was ringing me up out the blue to ask if she could wear the most precious item of clothing in my wardrobe? I hadn’t even worn it myself yet because it was given to me by one of Ireland’s most famous designers just a couple of weeks before I got pregnant. It was a thank-you gift for persuading Ireland’s most famous actress to wear it on aLate Late Show appearance. Apparently the designer in question sold out of all his key season pieces within a week after her appearance.
“Okay,” I said reluctantly. I felt I was being put in a corner. I really wished that she wasn’t asking this favour of me. I’m the type of person who doesn’t even like somebody reading my newspaper or magazine before I do, never mind wearing my one and only couture dress.
“Oh great! Thanks,” she said breezily as though she had just asked me for a lighter for a cigarette. “Right, well, call out to me whenever you like. I’ll put the kettle on. We can have a chat and you can see John.”
I decided not to be small about it. Let her wear the dress. After all, it was just hanging in my wardrobe doing nothing anyway. And it would be good to see her again, I thought optimistically. I hadn’t seen her in so long. She should be able to fill me in on all the office
gossip. I really felt out of the loop now. It was as though I had been forgotten about altogether.
“Oh, I’d love to do that, Kaylah, but things are manic in work at the moment and Bray is so far away. It would seriously take me all day getting there and then getting back into town afterwards. I’ll tell you what, I’ll send out a courier for the dress tomorrow. That could save us both a lot of hassle.”
And before I could say anything else, she was gone. I stared at the phone for a few seconds, not knowing what to think. Should I be insulted? Or annoyed? Or simply hurt? Then I put the phone back in my bag. Oh well, I shrugged, at least having a baby had really let me know who my real friends were. I had never felt more alone in the world. Even the ladies in the next room discussing the book were not my real friends. I didn’t really know very much about them and they were all a little older than me.
To my horror, and in spite of myself, I felt tears spring up in my eyes. I fought them back. The last thing I needed to do now was start crying. But I couldn’t help feeling let down. I was sick of trying to be strong the whole time and pretending that my feelings didn’t count. I took a tissue from my pocket and dabbed a lone tear that had escaped.
Then I went back into the room where the discussion about the depressing book was in full swing. Oh sugar! I thought they would have wrapped it up by now. I sat down. Anita patted me gently on the shoulder. “Is everything okay?”
Oh no! I must have looked really upset. Maybe my mascara had run. I was embarrassed now. The last thing I wanted from people was sympathy.
“Is there something wrong with your little fellow?”
“Oh no, he’s fine, totally fine. It was just a false alarm. My mother couldn’t find his dummy but it turned up behind the sofa.”
I could feel myself going red. Why did I lie and say that my mother was on the phone? What was wrong with me? I sat down and studied the cover of my book so as not to draw any further attention to myself. No such luck though.
“What about the new girl you were getting? Has she arrived yet?” asked Yvonne.
Thank you, God! A change of subject! “Well, no. Actually she did come but she has since left.”
“She left already? That was quick!”
I revelled in telling them my little story about Bernadette and all the drama that had taken place. By the shocked look on their faces, it seemed that my tale was grabbing their attention far more than the book we were supposed to be critiquing. Soon I had forgotten all
about Sally and her snub.
“What a cheek!” said Heather, looking aghast. “Imagine being that brazen! Mind you, it’s so hard to find good help these days. I was ages looking for my girl. Thank goodness I found somebody suitable in the end. She’s a gem and I’m so lucky. It’s a pity I couldn’t say the same for my last two girls who were an absolute nightmare. One fancied my husband and the other would eat for Ireland and then lock herself in the bathroom for hours. Bulimia is
a real problem, I find, with childminders in this day and age.”
“I guess you get what you pay for,” shrugged Karen, who as owner of two thriving chemists obviously had no problem paying a nanny’s wages.
“That’s right,” Heather agreed. “If you pay peanuts you get monkeys. Simple as that.”
“All I can afford is a monkey,” I sighed. “But at least I deserve monkeys that don’t expect me to provide a free hotel room in my apartment.”
The others smiled politely at my feeble attempt at humour.
Tanya was back in the room topping up wineglasses. I wasn’t sure how much English she could speak because she wasn’t saying anything. She still looked kind of nervous. Maybe she felt slightly intimidated by the group of strangers in the room. She really was a stunning-looking girl with full lips and brilliant blue eyes. She could have done with putting on a few pounds though. She really was scarily thin.
“I’m glad that I never had to worry about childcare,” said Deirdre. “The stories my sisters used to tell me about her numerous nannies would make your hair stand up on end. You couldn’t make them up if you tried. One nanny she had even crashed her husband’s car when she took it out without permission. Another used to walk from her bedroom to the bathroom naked until my sister told her that it was completely unacceptable. Apparently where she came from in Iceland they do that kind of thing all the
time. Or so she said.”
“Filipinas are marvellous, I have to say,” Yvonne joined in the conversation animatedly. “I have had two in the past. They don’t mind working hard, they don’t go out partying like Brazilians and they don’t complain like the French and unlike Italian girls they are great with the housework. Most of them send all their money back to their families in the Philippines so they’re very diligent.”
My head was becoming frazzled now with all the advice. I put down my
glass of wine as it was clearly going to my head now. I had started the ball rolling and now all the women were trying to outdo each other with their nanny stories. It would seem that the unsuccessful
stories far outweighed the successful ones. Really, there didn’t seem to be a magical solution.
Deirdre was the first to stand up and make her excuses. She had an early sailing the following morning and needed to make sure everything was packed into the boot of her car. Then Heather said she had better go to as she needed to be up bright and early to do her Pilates classes in the morning. Yvonne said she would stay on for some more chat, as did Anita. Anita’s husband had taken all five of the kids to Disneyland Paris for a couple of days so Anita was under no pressure to go home. In fact, she told us, the only thing she had to remember was to attend her local spa the following morning for a massage and a French manicure. Really those ladies seem to inhabit a different world to the one I do, I thought as I waved good-bye to Deirdre and Heather. They all seemed so organised and appeared
as though they had it all worked out. In a way I wished I was more like them. I too would have liked to have plans for the following day that involved something other than a mound of washing, ironing and sterilising bottles.
Yvonne wasn’t drinking (she’s on a strict no bread, potatoes, sugar or alcohol diet) and had offered to give me a lift home. Anita, on the other hand, eagerly accepted another huge glass of wine. I put my hand politely over my glass when Joanne tried to top it up. I knew my limits. As we chatted some more (mostly about childcare as it really is a hot favourite topic among mothers), I found myself no longer brooding on Sally’s earlier phone call. She could have the dress and I would graciously loan it to her. After all, it wasn’t as though I would be going anywhere in it soon. Anyway, I wasn’t slim enough even to get one leg into it at the moment! I’d have to do something about my diet. Before I used to want to be slim for vanity reasons but now I was a little worried about my health. I was fat, particularly around the middle. I needed to lose the lard, for John’s sake at least. I decided I’d have to cut down on the bread (lethal waste of calories) and sugar (my downfall since I was a kid – why can’t I say no to Jelly Tots?) and up my exercise routine. I really have no excuse not to exercise as I live right beside the promenade in Bray. How much would I love to be able to wear a beige Juicy Couture tracksuit and look like a cool yummy mummy like Heather? Although I am totally ashamed to admit it, sometimes I still wear my maternity clothes (which I didn’t manage to sell on eBay!). I know, John is now seven months and I still wear trousers with elastic waistbands while sitting in cafes eating doughnuts and looking at pictures of celebrity mums prancing around in bikinis six weeks after giving birth. Oh, I know they’re not like you and me and they have personal chefs and trainers and nannies to help out, but reading about them is enough to send me into the gloomiest of moods.
Finally the evening wound down, in no small part due to Joanne glancing obviously at her watch quite a few times. It seemed to me that despite the amount of effort that she
had put into hosting the evening, she had remained uptight throughout and was looking forward to saying goodbye. At the door she gave me a brief air-kiss and said she hoped that I would enjoy the rest of my summer.
I followed Yvonne out to her car, a snazzy Mercedes SLK bought for her by her second husband (a senior consultant in St Vincent’s private hospital). It was a close, balmy evening with only a slight breeze. I wouldn’t have minded walking back to the apartment but my heels were quite high and one was beginning to rub quite painfully against the back of my heel. I slid into the soft leather passenger seat and closed the door. Then just as I was about to buckle my seat belt there was a rap on the window. It was so barely audible that I wondered if I had imagined it. But no. Tanya was at the window, her eyes wide, like a startled rabbit.
I rolled down the window. There was no sign of Joanne, who had presumably gone back inside. “Hi Tanya, is everything okay?”
She held up a white cardigan which I recognised as mine. “Is it yours?”
I opened the car door. “Oh, thank you,” I said gratefully, taking the cardigan from her. “I must have dropped it without noticing.”
“No problem,” said Tanya, smiling for the first time since I had seen her. She really was a beauty. When she smiled her whole face lit up.
“Well, goodbye,” I said, kind of awkwardly, because she was just standing there at the car and hadn’t moved away. Why? Was she looking for a tip or something? It was weird.
Yvonne had already started the engine. I gave Tanya a little wave and then went to shut the window. But suddenly she grabbed the top of it.
“Is everything all right, Tanya?” I asked, somewhat alarmed.
“Yes, but wait.” She glanced over at Yvonne nervously, and then took what looked like a folded white envelope from a back pocket of her skirt. “I want to give you this. Maybe you can read it if you have time.”
“Oh, okay, thanks,” I said, completely confused now. What in the devil’s name was going on?
Yvonne revved the engine of her car and we moved off. “What did she give you?” she asked as we pulled out of the driveway. I had the envelope in my hand. It was sealed. My instinct was not to open it there and then in front of Yvonne, but to open it later in the privacy of my own home.
“I’m not sure,” I said, putting it in my bag. “I wonder if she’s lonely. It must be hard for a young girl to come here from abroad and try and settle in and make friends as well as learning the language. A friend of mine has a lovely au pair called Claudine. I must introduce her to Tanya. I’m sure they’d be delighted to meet each other.”
“They might not want to hang around with each other if they’re trying to improve their English though – they might prefer to spend time with native speakers. I wouldn’t feel too sorry for them either. Sure, don’t they get free board and keep and don’t have to worry about
paying bills? It’s not a bad life.”
“I suppose,” I said, leaning my head back on the headrest and closing my eyes for a bit. I didn’t really feel like talking about au pairs or nannies any more. I was looking forward now to going home and getting a good night’s sleep without the baby waking me, which he
normally did a couple of times a night. Suddenly I was completely overcome with tiredness.
I nearly tripped over one of Baby John’s dummies when I came in the door. He has about ten of them because I am so terrified of running short. The last time we went out to a supermarket and he inexplicably lost his dummy, he almost roared the place down. With all
the disapproving looks I was getting (especially from old people) I practically ran from the store with my ‘siren’ wailing until he was red in the cheeks. By the time I got home and found another soother to pop in his gob, I realised to my immense frustration that I had forgotten
almost half the groceries including Fairy Liquid to wash my full sink of dirty dishes. I sat down on the sofa, put my head in my hands and burst into tears.
Of course, looking back now I realise that I was suffering from severe mummy-brain which is a condition that affects sleep-deprived mummies and especially sleep-deprived single mummies. I was putting on the kettle to make myself a sobering cup of tea when I suddenly remembered the envelope that Tanya had thrust at me. I sat down and opened it tentatively. I’m really not sure what I expected to read in the letter but I was shocked to see such a brief hand-scrawled message.
Please help me! Tanya
Her mobile number was also written on the note. I felt my blood run cold. I sat up straight and stared at it. What was wrong with her? Was she in danger? My imagination suddenly started running riot. Was Joanne keeping her prisoner in her house? Perhaps there was a dungeon at the bottom of the house? Maybe Joanne’s husband was keeping her as a sex slave? I felt my imagination running away with me. I tried to envisage Joanne’s husband. I had only met him once, briefly, when he had opened the door at Joanne’s first book-club
Steady on there, Kaylah, I said to myself. As if they have kidnapped her! Joanne and her husband were perfectly reasonable and respectable middle-class folk. They would be the last people you could imagine being involved in something sinister. Maybe this girl, Tanya, was an aspiring actress, a bit of a drama queen. Feeling very confused, I dialled the number. It rang once and then cut out. So I tried again.
“Hello?”
The voice was barely audible. I could hardly hear it.
“Hello, Tanya? It’s Kaylah here. Is everything okay?”
“Yes, but I cannot really talk right now, sorry. But is it possible for me to come to your house tomorrow afternoon? Maybe you can help me?”
“Sure,” I said, feeling fairly bewildered. “That’s no problem at all. I’ll do whatever I can.”
I proceeded to give the girl my address over the phone, and we arranged for her to come at twelve midday. She thanked me and abruptly hung up. I found myself rubbing my right temple in confusion. What in the world had that been all about?
CHAPTER TWELVE
I was in a baby and maternity shop in the Dundrum Town Centre one day buying John some little white vests for the summer. The girl serving me was quite obviously pregnant so I asked her when she was due. “Seven weeks, now,” she beamed. “I’m looking forward
to it, although I know I’ll miss being pregnant. It’s such a lovely feeling.”
I smiled and nodded at her but I just couldn’t relate to her at all. I had hated every waking minute of my pregnancy. I was ridiculously emotional throughout the whole nine months. I remember once walking past a dead bird and bursting into tears. The poor little bird, I thought, sobbing all the way down the street. That’s how silly I was. When I wasn’t snivelling into a tissue I was throwing up all over the place. I even started carrying a plastic bag around because I simply couldn’t walk past a petrol station, a chipper or somebody smoking a cigarette without puking.