by Jules Wake
Grace headed towards the beautiful staircase. ‘I’ll just go and see Svetlana. She came back last night. I heard her after I was in bed.’
‘Why don’t you leave it?’ I said. ‘Shall we get a drink? Do you have juice and a biscuit when you come home?’
Grace’s eyes lit up. ‘Daddy went shopping on Saturday when I was at Sophie’s. We have cookies. Proper ones.’
‘Come on then, lead the way to the cookies.’ I grabbed the Tupperware box to follow her down the stairs to the basement kitchen.
I put the kettle on. ‘So where are these cookies then?’ I glanced at my watch, calculating the best time to phone Bella to see if she would call in on Mum for me as I wasn’t sure how long Nate would be.
‘Here,’ said Grace, dragging one of the stools to the kitchen counter and scrambling up. Then she stood on the counter, opened a cupboard and stood on tiptoe to pull an old Walkers shortbread tin from the top shelf.
‘Are you supposed to be up there?’ I asked, amused at her careful machinations. She was a young lady on a mission.
She scrambled back down, offering me the tin, and peeped up at me through her eyelashes. ‘It’s OK, you’re a guest.’
I bit back a smile. ‘OK. What do you normally do when you come home from school?’
‘Watch Frozen while Svetlana is on her phone. She has a boyfriend. Then she makes tea. Sometimes I do some drawing.’
‘How would you like to do some drawing for me?’ I could get Grace to design the front of the programme for me.
Leaving her to her coloured pencils, I sat down at the breakfast bar next to her with an A4 sheet of paper and started work drawing up the cast list for the back of the programme, trying to remember all the children’s names so that I could type it up when I had a spare minute.
‘Can I put the telly on?’ she asked and absently I nodded as I tried to remember the names of the shepherds in alphabetical order.
I was so absorbed I didn’t realise that Grace had slipped away. When I looked up, she wasn’t in the kitchen any more. I listened hard but I couldn’t hear anything. Presumably she was safe in the house … but unease gnawed at me. I had no idea where she was and what she was doing. Padding up the stairs, I reached the ground floor, stopped and listened. I peered into the elegantly appointed lounge on one side of the hallway. No sign of Grace.
I started up the stairs, fighting a combination of curiosity and awkwardness. I wanted to know what the rooms looked like but was conscious of not taking advantage of Nate’s absence to indulge in nosiness. On the first floor I could see open doors, one to a bedroom with a definite pink glow, and I could just see the white cast iron headboard and a string of white heart fairy lights, a bathroom with white tiles and navy walls and the tasteful beige walls, painted in what was probably Farrow & Ball’s Elephant’s Breath, of the hallway.
I carried on up to the attic with a mounting sense of foreboding.
The door opened into a suite of rooms, a pretty little living room with nice simple furnishings and a few pictures on the wall. Beyond it was a small kitchen.
To my left, movement caught my eye. Grace was just taking a few steps into the small bedroom there.
The first thing I noticed when I followed her in were the Blu Tack blobs on the empty walls and the open wardrobe doors, where a few solitary items hung on the hangers.
Grace turned and lifted her chin. Neither of us said anything. She swallowed, her delicate face stoic while her narrow little shoulders hunched. She took a step towards the chest of drawers. At the sight of her scrawny wrist as she poked one small hand into the empty, half pulled out drawer, my heart almost cracked. I felt the crushing weight of the rejection.
With a stilted walk, she went towards the wardrobe and with her back to me stood in front of it, her fingers touching the edge of the open door. Then she turned around and looked at me.
‘She’s gone. Svetlana’s gone. She’s not coming back.’
At the stricken expression in her solemn brown eyes, I scooped her up and hugged the tiny bones to me.
‘Oh, honey,’ I breathed into the soft blonde hair as she nestled into me, her arms clinging to my neck. The first sob racked her body and I felt so helpless and useless. Sitting down on the bed, all I could do was stroke her back, hold her tight and murmur to her as she cried.
‘Bella, it’s Viola.’
‘Viola, how’s your mum?’ She’d completely missed the urgency in my tone. ‘I can’t believe she’s broken her leg and when your dad’s away—’
‘Bella, sorry, I need a favour. I’m … I can’t get to Mum’s before I have to go to work. Is there any chance you could pop in and give her some dinner? I’ve stocked up the fridge and there are some ready meals ready to go. It’s just I’m …’ I gave Grace a reassuring look. ‘It would really help me.’
‘What, now?’ asked Bella. ‘I’ve got to give the girls tea and I’m not long in.’ Which translated as she’d just opened a bottle of wine. I knew her routine. ‘I can’t really leave the girls.’
‘Couldn’t Laura look after them for an hour?’ She was sixteen.
‘Oh, no, it’s not fair to ask her. Perhaps Tina is free? I wish I could help, I really do.’
‘Fine,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry.’ I didn’t have time to waste grovelling.
‘See you on Saturday.’
‘Saturday?’
‘We’re getting the tree. Didn’t I mention it? I need you to come and help decorate with me. Ella and Rosa are so excited. And you’re so much better at putting the lights on than I am.’
‘I’ll see,’ I said, hurrying to end the call so that I could phone Tina.
Although Grace was sitting watching a DVD with a biscuit and a glass of milk, I could tell that she was listening in.
When I asked Tina, explaining as delicately as I could that I was tied up elsewhere, her exasperated response was, ‘Viola, do you know what time it is? It’s bedlam here. The girls have just come in from ballet and I’m exhausted. We’ve just had a marathon PTA meeting about the Christmas fete – you are coming, by the way, aren’t you? It’s on the second last Saturday before Christmas. Actually, I was going to ask you if you might play for us. A couple of carols. It would be so lovely. Just in the hall, a little bit of accompaniment for people with their mulled wine and mince pies.’
‘I’ll have to check my diary,’ I said, short for once, which I could tell surprised Tina.
‘Look, I’m sorry I’m busy. Can’t you ask Bella? She is only round the corner from your mum.’
‘She’s busy too,’ I said and I hung up.
With a sigh, I called Ursula.
‘I’m really sorry to ask, Ursula, but do you think you could pop in and see Mum—?’
‘Oh, darling, of course I will. You know you only have to ask. I know how busy you are and with such a big job. Your parents must be so proud of you. I so enjoyed the ballet that you got me tickets for.’
I’d forgotten how much she’d appreciated the tickets I’d got her to the General, which is our dress rehearsal but you’d never know; by then everything is polished so that Friends of the theatre, patrons and friends and family are invited.
‘You’re an absolute saint, looking after your mother. I don’t mind at all. In fact, she’s got those crutches; she could come here for dinner. I’m sure she’d be glad of the company.’
‘Thank you, that’s really kind of you.’ Bless Ursula. I didn’t even have to ask if she’d sort dinner out.
‘Don’t be silly; it’s absolutely no trouble at all. I’ll nip out to Tesco Metro and buy some more chicken and some extra vegetables. It will be lovely to see her. And if she doesn’t want to stay for the evening, I won’t be the least bit offended. Or I can just take some dinner over to her, whichever she prefers.’
‘Thank you, Ursula, I really am grateful.’
‘You’re a good girl, Viola. I’m glad I can help you. It’s my pleasure.’
I almost sagged with relief when I put the
phone down. Mum might not be pleased but on this occasion it was tough.
I clapped my hands together. ‘All sorted. Shall we make this house? Or do you want some tea? What do you usually do after school?’
Grace came into the kitchen and climbed up onto the stool next to me.
‘Svetlana makes me tea. And then I watch television until Daddy comes home.’
‘OK, well, why don’t I make the tea and we’ll make the gingerbread house as well.
I looked in the fridge but there were fairly slim pickings on the shelves. The freezer offered plenty – fish fingers, fish fillets, pies, pizza and lasagne. Children’s food and adult food. My parents hadn’t been terribly child-focused but we’d always eaten together. The joy of fish finger sandwiches had come late in life to me. A university hangover treat.
Tonight Grace needed company and normality. She needed to be with her dad when he came home.
I wrestled the solitary pack of mince from the bottom of one of the freezer drawers. ‘Do you like Spaghetti Bolognese?’
I could kill my subconscious. Only when I heard the front door upstairs slam, with the Bolognese sauce bubbling on the gas hob and Grace and I putting the finishing touches to the house together, did it occur to me what I’d done.
‘Daddy, Daddy!’ Grace jumped up and ran to the bottom of the stairs. ‘Come see what we’ve done.’
As Nate appeared on the bottom step I saw his eyes sweep the room, taking in the inviting glow of the lights, the table laid ready for dinner and the seating area with cushions plumped. Quite unintentionally, I’d managed to create a scene of perfect domesticity.
His eyes came to rest on me, in a Cath Kidston pinny that Grace had rummaged through several drawers to find. It was practical, I could hardly perform in an icing sugar dusted dress, but it probably did look rather clichéd.
‘Hi,’ I said, feeling like a usurper, as if I’d made myself a little too much at home. I hadn’t meant to but I’d been determined to normalise the evening for the sake of Grace, so that she didn’t feel an inconvenience or a burden.
‘Hi.’ He smiled, looking a little dazed and, from the state of his hair, extremely rumpled. ‘Something smells good. And that looks amazing.’
He came over and kissed Grace on the head, who turned and scrambled into his arms.
‘Daddy, Svetlana’s gone.’
He pulled a face, an amazing combination of reassurance and we’ll-get-through-this exasperation. ‘I know. She told me. I was going to tell you this evening. Sorry, pumpkin, I got stuck on the train, otherwise I’d have been at school to collect you. I’m really sorry.’
‘Is she coming back?’
He shook his head. ‘No, her mum’s not well so she’s decided to stay at home to look after her.’
‘Viola’s mummy’s not well but she stayed with me. And she’s made s’ghetti for our tea.’ Grace’s stout-hearted words made me swallow.
Nate hoisted her up a little higher and flashed me a smile of gratitude. ‘Viola is very kind.’
‘And look at our house. Do you like it? Look how good it is.’
Even I had to admit, it looked pretty good. Less is more worked every time. The gingerbread biscuits to hang on the tree, in contrast, were a complete dog’s dinner, but Grace had had proper little girl fun with icing tubes, the sprinkles and the glittery sugar dust. They were probably instant tooth decay in one bite.
‘Can you take a picture and put it on your Facebook page and tell everybody that we made it? Then Mummy can see it in New York. And she can see how good it is.’
Nate put her down on the stool and tilted his head, examining the finished house. He walked around the island to the other side and again tipped his head before pronouncing, ‘That is the best gingerbread house I’ve ever seen.’ He held up his hand and Grace high-fived him with a squeal.
‘It is! It is, isn’t it? And we made biscuits for the tree. To hang on the tree.’ She slithered down and danced around the room, waving her arms in the air and singing. It was the first time since we’d come in that she’d let herself go and be happy.
Nate took several pictures with his phone, while I measured out some spaghetti and Grace jumped all over the sofa before settling down to watch Frozen.
‘When do you eat?’ Nate looked over at the two place settings at the table.
‘I … er … I’ll grab something on the way to the theatre.’
He frowned. ‘That’s not very good for you.’
‘Hello, Mr Frozen Food. I’ve been through your fridge and freezer. Sorry, that makes me sound like some kind of stalker. I was looking for something to feed Grace.’
‘Yeah, I keep meaning to be more organised. Better. Svetlana wasn’t much of a cook and she wouldn’t have cooked for me anyway. Her job was looking after Grace, not me.’
He looked at the trendy old-fashioned large clock face on the wall. ‘If you eat and run you’ve got time; you said you had to be at the theatre for seven. Even if you leave at quarter past six you’ll get there.’
I grimaced and wavered; his house was closer to the tube station than mine.
‘I can run you to the station in the car.’
‘OK.’
Grace disappeared upstairs while I was cooking the pasta.
‘Was she OK?’ asked Nate.
I shook my head; it was almost too hard to speak. I swallowed down a lump and managed to stutter out, ‘N-not really … no.’ A tear escaped. ‘God, I’m sorry. She sobbed.’ I covered my face with a hand.
‘Hey, Viola.’ He put an arm around me and pulled me into his warm, hard body. I stiffened, not wanting his comfort.
‘She was s-so sad but … so dignified and grown-up at first.’ Then my tears came thick and fast. ‘But it’s not really about Svetlana, is it?’
Nate sighed and squeezed me. ‘No. I’m not sure how much Grace misses Elaine – the job always came first – but I think she feels the rejection.’
Maybe that was why I was so upset; I could relate to how Grace felt. I’d been trying to catch up ever since.
I lifted my head to meet kind eyes staring down at me. I looked at the damp stains on his shirt. ‘Oh, God, I’ve put make-up all over you. I’m going to look a sight this evening.’
He brushed one thumb under my eye and then the other under my other eye, with that careful concentration I’d seen on Grace’s face. ‘You’ll do.’
His gentle smile sent my heart racing and I sucked in a noisy breath. His eyes narrowed as his eyes roved over my face, his fingers lifting to smooth a strand of hair away. My heart leaped at the sudden jolt of surprise in his eyes and then he studied me again. My lips parted and I held my breath – he was going to kiss me. I could see the intent, the flare of his nostrils, the almost puckering of his lips. And then he closed down and pulled back.
‘Thank you for looking after Grace. You’re a very kind person.’
‘I just happened to be there at the right time.’ I gave him an over-bright, perky smile. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘I haven’t got a clue.’ He slumped wearily against the counter, picking up the black coffee I’d made him earlier.
‘Will you get another nanny?’
‘I’ll have to.’
‘Was Svetlana with you for long?’
‘Not that long, although –’ his laugh was derisive ‘– longer than most. I hired her after Elaine left. Elaine was quite tough on nannies.’
‘Oh.’ Elaine really didn’t sound very nice.
I pushed myself upright, lifting my chin to give him a Boudicca look my mother would have been proud of. ‘Look, I know you don’t want to get involved with me. And I completely get that, so this is nothing to do with that. I’m not trying to worm my way in. You’re an attractive guy. I bet you have women throwing themselves at you all the time. But this is not about you; it’s for Grace.’ I linked my fingers, almost regretting even starting this conversation. ‘I’m sure I can resist you.’ He looked a little taken aback. ‘But, if it he
lps, I could pick her up after school for the rest of this week. Just while you make other arrangements.’
Nate stared at me. ‘That’s a very generous offer.’
‘I know. I’m mad,’ I said. ‘I’ve got enough on my plate with my mother. But, like I said, it’s not for you.’ I paused, my breath hitching into a near sob. ‘Grace needs someone on her side.’
Chapter 13
‘Viola, Viola!’ Grace waved, her hands a blur in red gloves as she stood next to the teacher in the doorway. When I went over she gave me a huge beam. ‘You came.’
‘Of course I came. I said I would.’
Grace gave a quiet little nod of satisfaction as if we had a pact and I’d fulfilled my end of the deal. For some reason it filled my heart with a burst of warmth. I’d done good.
She turned to another little girl, who I recognised, saying to her, ‘See, I told you Miss Smith was picking me up today.’
The little girl’s glamorous, immaculately made-up mother, wearing a Cossack hat and a full-length down coat, raised her eyebrows in a sceptical way and caught my eye.
The little girl, who I now remembered was called Cassie, tugged her mother’s hand. ‘This is Miss Smith. The nativity lady.’
The woman turned to me with a winning smile which didn’t touch her eyes. ‘Hello, I’m Cassie’s mummy. She’s the angel. I ought to tell you Cassie has a beautiful voice; you might not have realised it, being new to the school.’
‘No, I … er … I’m still getting to know all the children.’
‘She’s picking Grace up today,’ interjected Cassie helpfully.
‘Is she?’ The woman managed to include a wealth of amused disdain in her words. ‘Nannying as well. You’re a woman of many talents.’
‘I’m just helping out,’ I responded, grateful when another woman claimed her attention with a shrill cry.
‘Zoe, darling, I just adore your hat. Where did you get it?’
The teacher, who had been involved in a conversation with another mum, looked up and said to me cheerfully, ‘Hello, I’m Grace’s teacher. You must be her new nanny … oh, but didn’t I see you in the staffroom earlier?’
