‘What the hell is this?’ he shouts, pointing at the lights in disgust.
‘They’re called Christmas decorations,’ I say with a sarcastic smile.
He looks down at the bauble in my hand, his eyes ablaze with rage. ‘Put. That. Down.’
‘I was just about to,’ I say as calmly as I can, hanging it on the tree. It annoys me that my hand is trembling. I don’t want him to know he scares me in the slightest. Big bully.
He opens his mouth and it’s clear to everyone that he’s about to go off on one.
‘Can I just stop you right there?’ I interrupt quickly. ‘Perhaps if you have something to discuss we should go to your study, and not worry the children with it?’
He stops himself, taking a deep breath. I can see on his face he hates that he is agreeing with me. ‘Can I see you in my office a moment?’ It’s nothing more than a demand.
I smile politely. ‘Of course, Mr Rothchester.’
He spins on his heel and practically runs ahead. I follow him out of the room, glancing back at the girls. They’ve clung together. It’s obvious they think I’m leaving tonight.
I give them a reassuring thumbs up and follow him up the stairs, trying and failing to avoid checking out his arse and glutes in those trousers. God knows how they don’t split. We walk along to his office and I close the door behind me.
My stomach is in my knickers and sweat is trickling down the back of my neck; not that I let it show. The sadistic bastard wants that. I lean on one hip in what I hope is a defiant stance. I hate that he makes me this jittery.
‘What the fuck is this?’ he shouts from behind his desk. ‘Who the hell do you think you are? Decorating my house?’
I sigh, stopping myself from eye rolling. ‘I spoke to the girls and they said that you never decorate and that they’d like to.’
‘I don’t decorate for a reason,’ he practically spits. His whole face is red and blotchy, his neck muscles tensed. He needs a lavender wheat bag to the neck. ‘I would have thought you’d have respected that.’
‘Why? I know you haven’t decorated since your wife died, but Jessica remembers her mummy loving Christmas and them decorating together. So, what’s the big deal?’
His nostrils flare. He reminds me of a rhino.
‘And you thought you could just walk in and try to replace those memories? Touch my wives’ things?’
I get that he could be upset with me, a mere mortal, touching his wives’ things, but can’t he see I’m doing this for the girls?
‘Don’t you get it? Those memories will fade if you don’t continue to talk about your wife. By just ignoring her you’re ruining her memory. Do you really think she’d want it like this?’
He slams his hand down on the desk so hard I flinch.
‘How dare you think you have any idea of what my wife would have wanted. She can’t want anything, because she’s dead!’ I blanch, as if he’s slapped me. ‘Yes, she loved Christmas, but Christmas is also when she died.’
Oh. I didn’t know that. Well now I can maybe understand why he’s so pissed. Turns out I’m the insensitive arsehole.
‘Look, I’m sorry if I upset you,’ I say in a calmer, more controlled, voice. ‘But I was just trying to make the girls happy. That’s all I ever try to do.’
The vein on his forehead throbs. ‘Well, I’ve had enough of you trying to take control of my children. You’re fired.’
I bark a laugh. Who the fuck does he think he is?
‘Oh, don’t for one second think I’m going anywhere,’ I retort, my chest heaving with outrage.
He stares back, blankly. ‘I just told you, you’re fired. Get out.’ He attempts to shoo me away. Arrogant tosser.
I scoff. ‘I just told you, I’m not going anywhere. These girls have no stability in their lives. They have a constant stream of nannies. I’m going to stay here for the holidays. I’ll go in the new year and that, Mr Rothchester, is final.’
The look on his face is priceless.
Barclay
The woman is certifiable. I fired her, for goodness sakes. She should be packing her bags and fucking off back to where she came from. But insisting she’s going to stay for Christmas… like she’s doing me a favour…? It’s infuriating.
I still can’t believe she touched all of Claire’s Christmas decorations. Of course I don’t decorate at Christmas. Claire died at Christmas. It doesn’t matter how many decorations you have surrounding you; when your wife passes nothing can cheer you up.
Claire really did love Christmas. She was one of those annoying people that got excited about it in July. I used to tease her relentlessly about it, but I actually found it adorable. She came from a very modest household where they couldn’t afford a real tree or good decorations. I remember when we were teenagers, she’d tell me she dreamed of a big house that she could decorate exactly as she wanted.
She got those wishes, but who cares about them if then you have your life taken from you? God, just thinking of how cruel and unjust it all is makes me mad again. If someone needed to be taken it should have been me. The girls could have lived without me easily, but without their mother’s loving touch? I don’t know.
Maybe it’s good that Ruby is staying for Christmas. God knows it would be a nightmare to recruit a nanny so close to the holidays. Probably be fobbed off with agency staff. I just worry that the girls will bond with her before then. They probably will—she lets them get away with murder.
When she was back-chatting me, I got to really glare at her, face to face. I never noticed before how beautiful she is. So far, she’s always struck me as kind of a mess, with her messy top bun, skinny jeans and baggy jumpers, like she’s been put together in a whirlwind, but her face is actually pretty striking.
She’s got the most unusual coloured eyes. They’re the palest sea green with a dark brown outer rim, making them seem almost hazel. They really are remarkable.
I like the fact that she isn’t like those over botoxed women you see every day. She has a natural beauty, only enhanced by the freckles all over her face.
Well, regardless of how enchanting I find her face, the fact remains that she’s still a pain in the arse. And still fired. I just have to deal with her a few more weeks and then I’ll never have to clap eyes on her again. Thank god.
Chapter 7
Thursday 5th December
Ruby
The girls were really clingy at bedtime. They kept asking if I was going away. I reassured them that everything was fine and that I wasn’t going anywhere. Which is kind of a lie, seen as I’ll be leaving in the new year, but for now I want them to have a great Christmas. I can’t have them worrying over the holidays. Little people shouldn’t have so much on their shoulders, especially at Christmas time. I distracted them by teaching them the entire “see you later” song and braiding their hair. I can’t believe they’ve only heard of the first two verses.
Today is Jessica’s school nativity. We’ve been working hard on her lines and the songs at home. She’s an innkeeper’s wife. She’s over the moon she can tell Mary and Jesus, “Sorry, no room at the inn.” Such an epic line.
Who wants to be Mary anyway? She’s boring. Much more fun to be the lady turning her away. After all, would it have been such an epic story if they gave birth in a regular old inn? I don’t think so. The innkeeper’s wife changed history.
It’s taking place at two o’clock, so I haven’t held my breath over Mr Rothchester turning up. Even though it’s a total milestone in my mind. I would have been devastated if my dad hadn’t shown up to my school nativity. Luckily my dad was at every single assembly, well, up until the day he died.
I could hardly ask Mr Rotchester this morning if he was coming, what with him firing me last night. I’m sure he still despises me.
I’m sat with Lottie on my lap when Clementine walks over, a smug smile on her face. Oh shit, what has she got in store for me?
‘Ah, Ruby! Just the person. I need your email address.’
<
br /> ‘Okay, but...why?’
‘To send over the PTA meeting itinerary of course.’ She laughs, almost cruelly. She reminds me of Cruella D’ville. ‘Don’t forget that your first meeting is tomorrow night at Lucinda’s house. 8pm. Don’t be late. We’d hate for you to get a reputation as being sloppy from day one.’ She looks disapprovingly down at my skinny jeans and baggy jumper.
I force a smile through gritted teeth. ‘I’ll be there.’ I salute her, as if I were in her army. Hitler like bitch.
The lights go down as soon as she walks away, as if she knows the lighting guy. Probably black mailing him too.
The excited chatter of the parents teeters off as we all sit with nervous anticipation.
I cross my fingers. Please God, let everything go well. If she fluffs her lines, I’ll die for her. Those kinds of embarrassing moments can define a kid’s future. Something they later realise in therapy was the catalyst for them becoming a crack whore.
‘Excuse me,’ I hear to my right. I turn to see who’s turning up this late. To my complete shock it’s Mr Rothchester. He made it. Wow. I stare at him aghast.
He sits down beside me on my coat I’d put holding his space with just in case. No need to pick it up, you arse hat. Just crush it with your bottom.
‘You made it,’ I whisper towards him. I can’t keep the surprise out of my voice.
He smiles. It’s so brief that I wonder whether I imagined it. You know how they say a smile can light up a room? Well his is like the flicker of a candle in a dark room. I’m drawn to it; begging for more.
‘Dada!’ Lottie says, crawling into his arms.
The curtains pull open and there’s Jessica singing with her class. She looks absolutely beautiful in the little outfit I sewed for her. Once again, I’m glad my mum taught me. She’s the most fashionable inn keeper’s wife that’ll ever be seen. She’s wearing a headband round her hair which makes her look like a glorious hippy.
She spots me and smiles, but then does a double take when she spots her daddy. Her mouth drops open, before beaming back at him, unashamedly waving.
It warms my heart. Before I consider what I’m doing I’m squeezing his arm. His bicep to be more specific. It was meant to be an encouraging gesture, but the way he looks down at my hand makes me feel like I’ve just crossed a line. Like I’m some sort of dirty whore nanny who’s trying to get in his pants.
I quickly take it back and sit on my hands to stop myself doing something ridiculous. But damn, that man has muscles. When the hell does he find the time to work out? Or is that just his wanking hand? I stifle a giggle. God, I’m immature.
I practically hold my breath until it’s Jessica’s line. She says it with so much spunk and sass that everyone in the audience laughs. She looks back at me, wondering if she’s done something silly, because of their reaction. I give her a thumbs up and actually fist pump the air in excitement. I glance at Mr Rothchester and he’s beaming back at her, rolling his eyes at me; God forbid anyone shows emotion.
When it finally finishes, I realise that I’ve been singing along to everything, keeping eye contact with Jessica, in case she was to forget anything we’ve practised. Mr Rothchester’s been filming it on his phone.
We all stand to applause.
‘Wasn’t she amazing!’ I beam at him. I’m so overwhelmingly proud of her I could cry.
He nods, amusement dancing in his eyes. ‘Of course, she was. She’s a Rothchester.’
I roll my eyes but continue to clap. ‘I hope you didn’t get me singing on there,’ I say, pointing towards his phone.
‘Oh, plenty.’ He grins. Now I get a grin. What is going on here? Probably just ecstatic that I’m leaving.
He checks his phone, frowning. ‘I have to go.’
And just like that, the Christmas magic is over.
‘Can’t you stay to tell her how fantastic she was? I know she’d love to hear it in person.’
He takes Lottie’s arms from around his neck and hands her over to me.
‘Afraid not. I’ve barely made it out to see her. But tell her I’ll see her tonight.’
‘You’ll make it back before bed time?’ I ask hopefully.
He grimaces. ‘I can’t promise.’ Of course, he can’t.
I sigh. ‘Okay, fine.’
‘Daddy!’ Lottie cries, reaching out for him with grabby hands as he makes his way through the crowd and disappears. Every woman stops to watch him. He is some serious man candy around here. Not that he notices; too busy on his phone.
‘Don’t worry, Lottie, we’ll see Daddy later.’ She sobs onto my shoulder. Poor little mite. ‘Come on. We need to dry our tears so we can tell Jessica what a good job she did.’
‘Okay,’ she agrees, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.
We make our way towards the front of the classroom, where all the parents are already queuing up.
‘Hi,’ a man in jeans and a ridiculous Christmas jumper says to me. I think I’ve seen him before at pick up. He’s got a toddler on his hip.
‘Hi,’ I nod politely. I smile over at Juliette, the only friendly mum to have introduced herself to me.
‘You’re the new nanny for Jessica, right?’ he asks, with a friendly smile. He’s not bad looking with mousey brown hair and pale green eyes. If I had a couple of pinots in me, I’d find him very sexy.
‘That’s me. I’m Ruby.’ I awkwardly wave.
Why do I always clam up and act like a buffoon in front of men? Sometimes I wonder how I ever lost my virginity.
‘I’m Jared, Verity’s nanny. Or Manny, as they like to call me.’ He laughs nervously. ‘I noticed that you were new to the area and I wondered if you fancied meeting up for coffee one day. Let me fill you in on the nanny circuit.’
Oh, is he asking me out? Romantic styles? Or just being friendly? I wish I knew more about dating and men sometimes.
‘That would be lovely, thanks.’
God knows it’s hard to have any kind of relationship when you’re in this line of work. If he’s in the same boat he’ll understand. At the very least, I’ll gain a friend. It’s not like they’re banging my door down.
‘Great.’ He hands over his phone. ‘Put your number in that and I’ll text you to find out your schedule.’
I put the number in with fumbling fingers and hand it back to him, not sure if I actually want him to message me.
One by one, the children are changed and released over. I’m hoping Jessica will come out soon. There’s nothing worse than when someone’s asked you out and you’ve accepted but then you’re forced to stand in weird silence together. This is why I hardly date. It’s so difficult and embarrassing.
Thankfully Jessica comes practically skipping out at that very moment. Her little smile fades when she realises Mr Rothchester is no longer here.
‘You were amazing!’ I screech, hugging her close to me. Well, as close as I can with Lottie on my hip. The girl never wants to be put down, clingy little koala bear that she is.
‘Daddy had to go?’ she asks, her eyes drop, her bottom lip wobbling.
I pull her away from everyone. ‘Yes, sweetie, but he filmed it on his phone and was so damn proud of you. He’s over the moon with how good you were. I think you should start writing your Oscars speech.’
Her face scrunches up. ‘What’s an Oscar?’
I scoff a laugh. ‘An award for being an amazing actress.’
She sighs, resigned. ‘Okay, let’s go home.’
I can’t have her being this glum. Especially after her trying so hard and performing so well.
‘Well, actually. Daddy suggested we do something special to celebrate.’
Her face lights up. ‘Really? He did?’
‘Yep! I think we should go for doughnuts and babychinos.’
‘What’s a babychino?’ Lottie asks, her eyes wide. ‘I’m not a baby.’
‘Oh, I know you aren’t sweetness. It’s just the name of the nicest hot chocolate in the whole of London!’
&nb
sp; ‘With marshmallows?’ Jessica asks excitedly, clapping her hands together.
‘Soooo many marshmallows.’ I nod with a giggle.
‘What are we waiting for?’ she shrieks, grabbing my hand. ‘Let’s go!’
Barclay
I’m only shortly back at work from the nativity when there’s a knock on my door. I know those three raps, it’s my mother.
‘Hi, darling!’ she sings, floating in without waiting for me to answer. ‘How was my little granddaughter’s performance? Is she going to be a thespian like her Grandma?’
Please, the woman was in her high school production of Romeo and Juliet and now she fancies herself a thespian.
‘She was brilliant, of course,’ I answer, looking back to my computer. Hopefully she’ll see how busy I am and leave.
‘And the nanny?’
I flinch at the mention of her. I still can’t believe she grasped my arm like that. At first, I thought she was attempting to try it on with me, but then I realised that she was just genuinely over the moon at Jessica’s performance. It almost made me chuckle. She was like a child herself. She really is invested in my girls.
‘She’s fine,’ I answer quickly, when I realise Mum is staring at me.
‘Really?’ she asks with raised eyebrows. Dammit, did Mrs Dumfy tell her I’ve already fired her? Not that I’ve told her, it would be Ruby spilling the beans.
‘Really,’ I nod. ‘I mean, the woman is infuriating, but she’ll do until after the holidays.’
‘Oh, Barclay,’ she sighs, her shoulders drooping dramatically. ‘I do wish you’d let the girl’s bond properly to a nanny. Goodness knows they deserve someone to stick around longer. When will you just accept that no nanny you ever have will be Claire?’
I take it like a bullet to the heart. She thinks I’m trying to replace Claire?
‘No-one and I mean no-one will ever be able to replace Claire,’ I growl. ‘I’m horrified you’ve even said that.’
She sits down across from me.
Once Upon a Wish-Mas Page 4
