by Unknown
The girl gave him a sideways look. ‘So work is important to you? More than family?’ She didn’t look impressed.
Max gave her one of his patented you-don’t-know-what-you’re-talking-about looks. Of course family was important! That was why he had to seal this deal. He was determined to carry on and finish what he and his father had started together, to ensure that his dad’s dream was fulfilled.
‘I’m a thirty-something bachelor with a riverside apartment that has split-level floors with no railings, stairs with no banisters and no outside space except a balcony with a hundred-foot drop to the Thames. Do you think it would be the responsible thing to allow a child to live there?’
He could see her wrestling with herself, but finally she shook her head.
‘Taking her to her grandmother’s is the most sensible and practical thing to do—for everybody.’
He looked up. They’d crossed the river now and could only be minutes from her home. If she said no he’d just drop her off and they’d never see each other again. And he’d have to wrestle a screaming Sofia all the way to her grandmother’s on his own.
‘So, Miss Lange with an e, will you take the job?’
She inhaled and held the breath for a few seconds before glancing up at her building, then she let the air out again. ‘I have one last question.’
‘Which is?’
The corners of her mouth curled up, as if she couldn’t quite believe he hadn’t mentioned this himself. ‘You really are a big-picture kind of guy, aren’t you?’
Yes, he was. ‘How did you know?’
‘There’s another detail you’ve forgotten, a rather important one. If I’m going to be your travelling nanny, I kind of need to know where we’ll be travelling to.’
Ah, yes. Another good point. He cleared his throat. ‘Italy,’ he said. ‘We’re going to Venice.’
Ruby’s hand shot out, her long slender fingers stretched towards him. ‘Done.’ He half expected her to spit in her palm, but she just looked steadily at him.
He encased her smaller hand in his own, feeling the warmth of her palm, the softness of her skin. Something tiny but powerful tingled all the way up his arm. He shook her hand. ‘It’s a deal,’ he said, his voice rumbling in his own ears. ‘You’re hired.’
But as he pulled his hand away he started to wonder if he knew exactly what he’d got himself into.
CHAPTER THREE
RUBY SHOULD HAVE realised when the limo driver gingerly put her hastily packed canvas rucksack into the boot that this journey was going to be different. She was used to travelling, used to crowded terminals in international airports teeming with the whole spectrum of human life. She was used to queuing just to buy a bottle of water and browsing the endless shops filled with travel gadgets in order to fill the time. She was used to playing ‘hunt the chair’ in the departure hall, and dozing on it with her jacket for a pillow when she found one.
She was not used to hushed and elegant lounges in small city airports, free food, drink and entertainment. Even though her father could easily afford to fly business class everywhere, he refused to, preferring what he called ‘real’ travel. If he wasn’t squished into Economy or standing at a three-mile queue at Immigration it wasn’t a real trip. Of course, the public loved him for it. Privately, Ruby had always wondered why dust and the ubiquitous Jeep with dodgy suspension were more ‘authentic’ than air-conditioned coaches these days, but she wasn’t daft enough to argue with him. He was disappointed in her enough already.
She sighed. It had been better when Mum had been alive. Even though she’d done exactly the same job, travelled along with him and presented the programmes alongside him, she’d always been good at hugs and sending postcards and presents to boarding school to let Ruby know that just because she was out of sight, it didn’t mean she was out of mind. Her father was no good at that stuff. And after she’d died he’d channelled his grief into his work, meaning he lost himself in it more than he ever had done before.
Ruby found herself a spot on the edge of a designer sofa in the lounge and reached for the bowl of macadamia nuts on the table in front of her, only scooping two or three out with her fingers and popping them quickly into her mouth, then she returned to doodling on a paper napkin with a pen she’d pulled out of her bag.
It was supposed to have been easier once the journey got under way. She’d thought that at least the ‘travelling’ part of being a travelling nanny would be inside her comfort zone. Wrong again, Ruby. And she didn’t even have anything work-related to do to keep her mind off her awkwardness, because Sofia, obviously exhausted by the sheer graft of tantruming half the day, was stretched out on the plush sofa with her thumb in her mouth, fast asleep and completely unaware of her surroundings.
Her new boss didn’t make it any easier. He’d hardly made eye contact with her since they’d left her flat, let alone talked to her. He was a right barrel of laughs.
She filled the short time they had by quickly sketching him as he remained, granite-like and motionless, hunched over his laptop; the only parts of him moving were his eyes and his fingers. She used only a few lines to get the back of his head and his jaw right, leaving the strokes bare and uncompromising, then settled down to reproducing the wrinkles on the arms of his jacket, the soft shock of dark thick hair that was trimmed to perfection at his nape.
Thankfully, once the flight was called and they had to head to the gate and board the plane, Ruby started to feel a little more normal. Jollying a freshly woken toddler along kept her occupied. It wasn’t that difficult. Sofia was a sweet child, even if the quiet curiosity hid a will of steel, like her uncle’s. Poor child must have been scared and upset when she’d seen her mother disappear out of Max’s office without her. It was no wonder she’d screamed the place down.
As the plane began its descent to Marco Polo airport Ruby began to feel the familiar quiver of excitement she always got at arriving somewhere new. She’d always wanted to visit Venice, had even begged her father to go when she’d been younger, but he hadn’t been interested. It was a man-made construction, built on stilts in the middle of a lagoon, and the city itself had few open green spaces, let alone rare wildlife—unless you had an unusual passion for pigeons. Ruby didn’t care about that. She liked cities. And this one—La Serenissima, as it used to be known—was supposed to be the jewel of them all.
It was a disappointment, then, to discover that they weren’t going to be arriving in Venice by boat, as many visitors did. Instead Max had ordered a car to take them along the main road towards the city of Mestre, which then turned onto the seemingly endless bridge that stretched from the land to the city across the lagoon.
Sofia began to whine. Although she’d had that brief nap at the airport, the poor little girl looked ready to drop. Ruby did her best to calm her down, and it helped, but what the child really needed was someone she knew. She might have taken to her new nanny, but Ruby was still a stranger. As was her uncle, Ruby guessed. The sooner she was reunited with her grandmother, the better.
The car pulled to a halt and Ruby looked up. Her face fell. Usually, she liked catching the first glimpse of a new place, seeing it as a far-off dot on the horizon, and getting more and more excited as it got closer and closer. This evening, she’d been so busy distracting Sofia back from the verge of another tantrum, she’d missed all of that. They’d arrived at a large square full of buses. They were in Venice at last, and yet this didn’t look magical at all. The Piazzala Roma looked very much like any other busy transport hub in any busy city.
People were everywhere. They spilled off the large orange buses that seemed to arrive and leave every few minutes, dragging luggage behind them as they set off on foot, maps in hands; or they queued wearily and waited for the buses to empty so they could clamber inside and head back to the mainland.
The driver started unloading the bags.
Ruby took her rucksack from the boot before this one had a chance to be snooty about it, then reached inside and unclipped Sofia from her car seat. The little girl grizzled softly as she clung round Ruby’s neck. They walked a short distance to a waiting motor launch on the side of a nearby canal. But Ruby was too busy trying to work out if the sticky substance Sofia had just wiped onto her neck was tears or snot to really pay attention. The boat driver nodded a greeting to Max, and then started up the engine.
For the next few minutes they took a dizzying route through the narrow canals—the equivalent of back streets, she supposed—and she could hardly see more than whitewashed or brick walls, oddly placed ornate windows high up in them, or the odd washing line strung with underwear, waving like unconventional bunting above their heads. But then they emerged onto the Grand Canal and Ruby was glad she was sitting down, with Sofia’s weight anchoring her to her seat in the back of the boat, because she surely would have thumped down onto her backside if she’d been standing up.
She’d never seen so many beautiful buildings in one place. All were ornately decorated with arches and windows and balconies. Some were crested with intricate crenellations that reminded her of royal icing fit for a wedding cake. Others were the most beautiful colours, the old stone worn and warmed by both the salt of the lagoon water that lapped at their bases and the soft sun dangling effortlessly in a misty sky.
She was still sitting there with her mouth open when the boat puttered to a stop outside a grand-looking palazzo. Instantly, two uniformed men dashed out of an ornate wooden door and onto the small, private landing stage, complete with the red-and-white-striped poles, and collected their bags and helped them from the boat. One tried to relieve Ruby of Sofia, but the little girl wouldn’t have it. She clung so hard to Ruby’s neck that Ruby almost choked. She had to make do with letting one of the men steady her as she clambered, a little off balance, onto the small stone jetty.
Ruby looked up. The building was very elegant. Traditional Venetian style, its tall windows topped with almost church-like stonework. Surely nobody real could live anywhere quite so beautiful?
Max must have decided she was dawdling, because he huffed something and turned.
She shook her head slightly. ‘Your mother lives here?’
He thought she was being slow again. She could tell by the way he was looking at her, a weary sense of disbelief on his features. ‘Of course my mother doesn’t live here. It’s a hotel.’
Maybe it was because she was tired and Sofia felt like a lead weight, or maybe it was because this had probably been the strangest day of her life so far, but she bristled. ‘You said we were taking Sofia to see your mother. You didn’t say anything about a hotel.’
‘Didn’t I?’
‘No, you didn’t,’ she said darkly, and then muttered under her breath, ‘Details, Mr Martin.’
He waited until they had walked through the lobby and were whooshing upwards in a shiny mirrored lift before he spoke again. ‘This is the Lagoon Palace Hotel. Sofia is tired.’ He nodded in her direction, where the child was still clamped onto Ruby’s shoulder like an oversized limpet. It was the first time he’d even given a hint he’d remembered his niece existed since she’d taken over. And, consequently, the fact he’d even noticed Sofia was exhausted took Ruby by surprise. ‘It’ll be a lot less fuss if we settle in here this evening and go and see my mother in the morning.’
Ruby opened her mouth to ask why, then shut it again. A flicker of a look had passed across his features, tensing his jaw and setting his shoulders. She was only too well acquainted with that look. Some people rushed into their parents’ arms after a separation, but other people? Well, sometimes they needed a chance to mentally prepare themselves.
She just hadn’t expected Max Martin, who seemed to have life buttoned up and marching to his tune, to be one of her fellow throng.
* * *
The inside of the Lagoon Palace was a surprise. Ruby had expected it to be full of ornate furniture, antiques and brocade, but the style was a mix of classic and contemporary. The original features of the building were intact, such as the tall marble fireplaces, the plasterwork and painted ceilings, but the decor was modern, with furnishings in bold, bright colours and rich textures.
The suite Max had booked had a main living area overlooking the Grand Canal and a bedroom on either side. A low, modern sofa in cherry-red velvet faced the windows and two matching armchairs sat at right angles. The end tables were a funky organic shape and the walls were the same colour as the furnishings. Other than that it was all dark wood and pale creamy marble.
Ruby stood in the middle of the living area, mouth open, taking it all in. ‘I was expecting something a little more...traditional,’ she said to Max as she dropped her rucksack on the floor and let Sofia down from where she’d been carrying her. Sofia instantly thrust her arms upwards, demanding to be picked up again.
Ruby sighed and did as commanded. She needed a moment to get her bearings and having a wailing child wouldn’t help. So far she’d felt totally at sea, and she had no idea whether she was looking after Sofia the right way. For all she knew, she could be mentally scarring the child for life.
Her uncle might not have noticed, but she needed to start acting, and thinking, like a real nanny. Tomorrow they’d be meeting Sofia’s grandmother, and, if she was anything like her son, she’d be sharp as a tack, and she definitely wouldn’t be oblivious to Ruby’s shortcomings. The last thing she wanted was to lose this job before it had even started.
‘I don’t like clutter,’ Max said. He took a moment to look around the suite, as if he hadn’t really taken it all in before. ‘While it’s not exactly minimalist, it’s as unfussy as this city gets.’
Sofia began to grizzle again, so Ruby carried her across to one of the bedroom doors and looked inside. There was a huge bed, with a sofa with burnt orange velvet cushions at the foot, and large windows draped in the same heavy fabric. Obviously the boss’s room. She retreated and checked the door on the opposite side of the living area. It led to a spacious room with twin beds, decorated in brown and cream with colourful abstract prints on the walls. She assumed she’d be sharing with Sofia, at least for tonight.
She was relieved to see each room had its own en suite. It was odd, this nannying lark. Being part of a family, but not really being part of a family. There were obviously boundaries, which helped both family and employee, but Ruby had no idea where to draw those lines. Still, she expected that sharing a bathroom, trying to brush your teeth in the sink at the same time as your pyjama-clad boss, was probably a step too far.
Not that she wanted to see Max Martin in his pyjamas, of course.
For some reason that thought made her cheeks heat, and she distracted herself by lugging Sofia back into the living room, where her new boss was busy muttering to himself as he tried to hook up his laptop at a dark, stylish wooden desk tucked into the corner between his bedroom door and the windows.
‘I’m going to put Sofia to bed now,’ she told him. ‘She ate on the plane, and she’s clearly dog-tired.’
Max just grunted from where he had his head under the desk, then backed out and stood up. He looked at Sofia, but didn’t move towards them.
‘Come on, sweetie,’ Ruby cooed. ‘Say night-night to Uncle Max.’
Sofia just clung on tighter. Eventually he walked towards them and placed an awkward kiss on the top of the little girl’s head. Ruby tried not to notice the smell of his aftershave or the way the air seemed to ripple around her when he came near, and then she quickly scurried away and got Sofia ready for bed.
She put Sofia to bed in one of the twin beds in their room. In the bag her mother had packed for her, Ruby found a number of changes of clothes, the usual toiletries, a few books and a rather over-loved stuffed rabbit.
‘Want Mamma,’ the little girl sniffed as Ruby helped her into her py
jamas.
Ruby’s heart lurched. She knew exactly how that felt, even though her separation from her mother was permanent and at least Sofia would see hers again very soon. But at this age, it must feel like an eternity.
She picked Sofia up and sat her on her lap, held her close, and pulled out a book to read, partly as part of the bedtime ritual, but partly to distract the child from missing her mother. She also gave her the rabbit. Sofia grabbed on to the toy gratefully and instantly stuck her thumb in her mouth and closed her eyes, giving out one last shuddering breath before going limp in Ruby’s arms.
Not even enough energy for a bedtime story. Poor little thing.
Ruby put the book on the bedside table and slid Sofia under the covers before turning out the light.
Ruby knew what it felt like to be carted from place to place, often not knowing where you were or who you’d been left with. She was tempted to reach across and smooth a dark curl away from Sofia’s forehead, but she kept her hand in her lap.
Usually, she threw herself into each new job with gusto, immersing herself completely in it, but she had a feeling it would be a bad idea for a travelling nanny. This was a two-week job at most. She couldn’t get too attached. Mustn’t. So she just sat on the edge of the bed watching Sofia’s tiny chest rise and fall for what seemed like ages.
When she was sure her charge was soundly asleep, and she wouldn’t disturb her by moving, she crept out and closed the bedroom door softly behind her. The living room of the suite was steeped in silence and the large gurgle her stomach produced as she tiptoed towards the sofa seemed to echo up to the high ceilings. It was dark now, and the heavy red curtains were drawn, blocking out any view of the canal. Ruby longed to go and fling them open, but she supposed it wasn’t her choice. If her boss wanted to shut himself away from the outside world, from all that beauty and magnificence, then that was his decision.
