by Natasha West
But she needn’t have worried, because Juliet fell off the agenda very quickly when Riley realised her key didn’t work. ‘What the fuck?’ she muttered to herself. She banged on the door. There was no answer.
‘Nick?’ Riley called through the door quietly, so as not to bother the neighbours. A few seconds of silence later, she stopped caring about that. ‘Nick?!’ she yelled, banging on the door. ‘Are you in there?’
There was a shuffling from the other side of the door. But no answer. ‘I can hear you in there!’ she called.
She heard a loud sigh, and the door opened—on a chain. Nick, her flatmate - and landlord - peeked out from the crack in the door, most of his skinny mustachioed face hidden. ‘Riley, I’m… I’m sorry. It just hasn’t worked out.’
Riley had wanted to believe this was a mistake, but there was no mistake at all. ‘So you just change the locks? Who does that? What the hell happened to the thirty-day notice period?’
‘I thought this would be better. Clean break,’ Nick shrugged timidly.
‘This is totally illegal,’ Riley told him, still working through her shock, moving into rage.
‘Well, actually, you never got around to signing the contract, did you?’ Nick said smugly.
Shit. That was true. She’d moved in hurriedly six months ago, a quick change of address needed when Riley had broken up with Noah after she could no longer deny that it wasn’t working. Nick had been a friend of a friend, and it had all been nice and informal, leaving Riley under the impression there wasn’t a rush to get the contract sorted, eventually forgetting about it altogether. With time, Riley found that Nick was a bit stuffy, but nothing she couldn’t handle. Until Nick started laying down ground rules. Nothing big initially, clean up after yourself, no secret electric heaters racking up giant electric bills, that sort of thing.
Then it got a bit more… austere. He wanted her to use his system of colour coding for cutlery. Red dot on the handle meant Wednesday, blue dot meant Tuesday, and so on. ‘To avoid over-wear on some items,’ he explained. It was a bit much, but Riley went along with it for the sake of a quiet life.
Then Nick asked Riley if she could go out on the balcony to brush her hair, that the hoover was not used to long, female locks, and was getting blocked up. Riley thought it was taking the piss to make her stand in the cold of morning just to brush her hair. But she had to admit, her hair was rather thick and long. She’d broken more than one brush in it. So maybe he had a point?
But then Nick crossed a line. Not one Riley knew she had until Nick told her he thought it was best if she didn’t have any overnight visitors. Point of fact, Riley hadn’t had any ‘overnight visitors’ in her tenure at Nick’s place, but she didn’t like the sound of the rule anyway. She was an adult who paid rent. She could do as she pleased in her own room. She could have an orgy, theoretically. Which was what she had told Nick at the time. His ratty little moustache shot up. ‘An orgy? You’re going to have an orgy?’ he asked, horrified.
‘I’m not planning one, but…’
‘Because that’s really… I mean, the unsanitariness just for a start…’
‘Nick, I’m not gonna have any orgies anytime soon! I just want you to know that you can’t dictate stuff like that. I pay my rent on time. You’re my landlord, not my dad.’
Nick looked like he was going to argue about it, but instead, he just scrunched his moustache up and took a sip of his kombucha. Riley was quite pleased with herself for putting him in his place. She had hoped that this was the start of a more balanced relationship.
Until her key wouldn’t work.
‘Nick, just open the door, would you?’ she asked, trying to sound like a reasonable and clearheaded person and not like someone who wanted to throw their control freak of a landlord from the balcony she’d been shivering on all winter while she tamed her locks. ‘Let’s just talk about this, can’t we?’
Nick appeared to think about it. But it became clear that it was only for appearances. ‘No, I think you should just go. I’ll send your stuff on.’
‘To where? I don’t have anywhere to go, you know that!’ Riley said, less calmly. Being reasonable had achieved nothing, might as well indulge some righteous ire.
But Nick wasn’t too worried about her. ‘There’s got to be somewhere, Riley. You’re a very personable... person. I’m sure one of your friends could take you in.’
‘I can’t just pitch up on someone’s doorstep, Nick.’
‘You pitched up on mine,’ he said. ‘This was never going to be a long-term arrangement, was it?’
‘I agree. It wasn’t,’ she concurred happily. ‘But that doesn’t mean you needed to do this so nastily. We could have just talked. I could have left in a few weeks.’
‘Yeah, but… I don’t really like confrontation. I was hoping you might just go away,’ he confessed.
Riley had to laugh. ‘You thought you could just change the locks and I wouldn’t want to have a conversation about it?’
Nick sniffed. ‘Look, I have to take care of myself, so I’m shutting this door in a second and putting on noise-cancelling headphones, blasting Celine Dion to heal from this. I’ll take them off in half an hour, and if you’re still here, I’ll be forced to call the police, OK?’ he said nervously. He took a deep breath and slammed the door.
Riley knew she had but seconds before the headphones went on. She had to make the most of them. ‘You’re a control freak twat, Nick!’ she yelled through the door. ‘That’s why you’re doing things like this! Because you can’t handle someone saying no to you! That’s not normal! And you know what? I hope the next flatmate is as anal as you so you can find out how fucking annoying you are. And I hope they turn out to be a serial killer who murders you in your sleep with a knife you’re only meant to use on a Wednesday! But, but… on a Tuesday!’ she finished, panting from the exertion of having to come up with a high-speed insult that would cut to the bone. She wasn’t sure she’d nailed it.
Once she’d caught her breath, she realised she was homeless. What the hell was she going to do about that?
Three
Juliet crossed her legs one way and then the other - trying to remember which way was the official direction you were supposed to fold your legs in a job interview - while the woman in front of her, Amanda, had a glance down Juliet’s CV. Amanda’s house was big, swish, fancier than Helen’s, in a posher district, Westover. That intimidated Juliet somewhat, but she was trying not to let it seep out.
Amanda was about thirty-five, and she bore all the hallmarks of the exhausted mother. Hasty ponytail, bags under eyes, small jammy handprints on her trousers. Helen had looked like this when Juliet had met her; when Max was still in nappies.
As Amanda nodded at the page, Juliet realised she’d fallen asleep.
Juliet didn’t know what to do. Part of her wanted to let the woman sleep. But in the end, she knew the longer this went on, the more embarrassing it would become. She coughed into her hand, but Amanda didn’t move. Juliet tried again, quite loudly. Amanda started and fell sideways off her chair. ‘My leg!’ she yelled as she slid onto the floor. Juliet jumped up and grabbed her hand, helping her up. Amanda looked up at her in utter mortification. ‘My leg fell asleep. I did too, didn’t I?’
Juliet smiled as she helped her back onto her chair. ‘It happens.’
‘During job interviews?’
‘Your daughter is two and a half, right? Yeah, seems about right,’ Juliet said with a light laugh. ‘The last mum I worked for fell asleep on a treadmill once. Hit the wall behind her and put a hole in it.’
‘Does it get better?’ Amanda asked, slight desperation in her tone.
‘Yes. The golden age is about three, so you’re not even that far away from it. Plus, it’ll be much easier once you get a nanny.’ She paused. ‘Did that sound a bit pushy?’
Amanda laughed. ‘Not at all. You’ve already got the job, anyway.’
Juliet gasped. ‘I have!?’
‘Yes, of
course. Even if you didn’t have bags of experience, you come very highly recommended. Someone I used to work with knows Helen, and she told him you were a godsend. In fact, she said she nearly didn’t go to Canada because she didn’t want to let you go.’
‘That’s really nice. She was a lovely boss,’ Juliet said sincerely, fighting back a blush. She had to text Helen her thanks later. She was currently on a flight with the kids, headed for their new life. It had been a tough goodbye yesterday. Juliet was still processing her grief, but she was dealing with it, moving on. Right into a new job, apparently.
‘So, do you think you might be interested in looking after Mia?’
‘Oh, err-’
‘What am I saying? You probably want to meet her first!’ Amanda said, rolling her eyes at herself. She got up and walked out. Juliet was left to infer she was to follow, and she hopped up and trotted out of the large living room, through the open-plan kitchen, out into a rather gigantic garden, easily a couple of acres. There was an outdoor pool with a security gate around it.
On the decking, a little girl played with a tea set and a collection of teddy bears while a middle-aged man sat with his laptop nearby, his brow creased in concentration.
‘Mike?’ Amanda called over to the man. He didn’t look up. ‘Yeah?’
‘Juliet’s here.’
Mike finally looked up and frowned. ‘Who?’
‘The nanny I told you about.’
Mike looked up. ‘Oh, right.’ He closed his laptop with regret and stood. He walked over, shoving a brusque hand out. ‘Mike.’
Juliet shook his hand, thinking there was something faintly familiar about Mike. ‘Juliet.’
‘And this is Mia,’ Amanda said, picking the little girl up and wrenching her away from her play. ‘Teddy!’ she screamed. Amanda sighed and put her straight back down, and she went back to serving the toy its imaginary tea. ‘Well, she’s a bit busy right now. But…’
Juliet nodded. ‘She has tea to pour, I understand.’
Mike coughed loudly, and everyone turned to him. ‘You got the kid?’ he asked Juliet. ‘Because I need to make a few calls.’
Juliet gaped. ‘Oh, err, I…’
‘She hasn’t actually accepted the job yet, Mike,’ Amanda said, embarrassed. ‘This is her interview.’
‘I have. I mean, I am. Now. Accepting the job, I mean,’ Juliet told her.
Amanda was palpably relieved. ‘Oh my god! That’s fantastic.’ She sighed dreamily. ‘I can’t believe I can go back to work! I might even go to the gym occasionally.’
‘Yeah, been a while, hasn’t it?’ Mike said, casting a quick assessing look down his wife’s body.
Amanda blushed and tried to fake a laugh. ‘Yeah, I guess.’
Juliet knew right then she didn’t like Mike. But she was pretty sure she wouldn’t have that many dealings with him. Hopefully, it would be all about Mia with pop-ins from Amanda. If Mike was kept to a minimum, this job could be good. Mia was deep into the terrible twos, but Juliet relished the challenge of guiding her out the other side of them.
‘Are we sorted here, then?’ Mike asked, already picking up his laptop from the chair.
‘Yeah, I’ll take her now,’ Amanda said.
Mike had already disappeared into the house. Amanda turned to Juliet. ‘He’s got a lot on at the moment. Very stressed with work. Not to mention…’ Amanda sighed. ‘His, er, his other daughter just moved in. From his previous marriage.’
‘Did she?’
‘Yeah. She ran into a bit of trouble and er, yeah, had to come and stay with us for a bit. She’s about your age, actually. Great girl. Only, they clash a bit, Mike and her. Anyway, you don’t need to hear about that. Stop babbling, Amanda! Are you OK to start on Monday?’
‘Sure,’ Juliet smiled, deciding she liked Amanda.
‘God, that’s really, really great,’ Amanda said, practically giddy. She glanced at Mia. ‘I mean, not that I don’t love being around her.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I just need to go back to work.’
She knew Amanda was battling with the age-old problem—Mummy guilt. Juliet had watched Helen go through it. You were supposed to do everything perfectly during an exhaustion you’d never known whilst telling everyone you’d never been so fulfilled. It was a bullshit deal. ‘Every mother I’ve ever met has needed a life besides their children’s. It’s healthy.’
Amanda looked quite keen on that take, though she had reservations. ‘But my husband… He was thinking, we thought, she should be raised to school age by me. But lately, I just feel like…’
‘You need to be around adults again,’ Juliet finished confidently.
Amanda’s smile was wide. ‘You get it.’
Juliet nodded. ‘So, Monday morning?’
‘Yes. I was thinking eight thirty till six, Monday to Friday?’
‘That’s great.’
Nearby, Mia admonished her teddy for drinking too much tea. ‘Teddy! Save some for Rabbit!’ She pushed him over. As he lay on the ground, Mia was further outraged. ‘Don’t go sleep! It’s not naptime!’ She picked him up, walked over to the pool gate, and lobbed him clean over, right into the pool.
‘Her language is coming along,’ Juliet said, looking for an upside.
Amanda sighed. ‘She called me “shit for brains” yesterday. I think she heard it when Mike was on a work call.’
Juliet wasn’t too shocked. Kids were sponges. ‘That’s quite a tough sentence. Impressive.’
‘I can tell we’re going to get along great,’ Amanda laughed.
As Amanda escorted Juliet back through the house, back to the front door, Juliet heard stirring from above. Amanda turned to the stairs. ‘Oh, that’ll be Riley.’
Juliet froze. ‘Riley?’
Four
Riley checked her watch; it was three on a Saturday. Her dad would be at home on the pretence he was having his weekend, but he’d almost certainly be in his office working. He worked in capital management and could never really be ripped away from the Dow. The upside was that she could risk leaving her room. She didn’t want to see his face for a few days. Hard now she was living with the bastard. But she really couldn’t think of anywhere else to stay while she got sorted.
Her first thought had been her mum, but she’d moved out to Copenhagen a few years ago after she married a Danish brain surgeon she met whilst skiing in the Alps. Riley wouldn’t have minded a break in Copenhagen. But she had work, and it was a hell of a commute. Nine to five, she worked in the marketing department for a homeless charity, Helping Hand. If Riley hadn’t known the realities of homelessness, she’d have been tempted to call the situation ironic. But the people they helped didn’t have this fallback. Not by a long chalk.
Riley wanted to feel grateful for this big, affluent house, and if the place hadn’t contained her father, she’d have been cartwheeling. But of course, if it hadn’t been her dad’s house, she wouldn’t be in it, so it was a catch twenty-two.
Luckily, the place almost had room enough to avoid him altogether. If only Riley hadn’t come down for dinner last night at her stepmother’s kindly insistence. She wouldn’t have gotten drawn into that argument about tax breaks for the rich. ‘We put a lot of money into this country. Everything you buy is taxed and people like me buy a lot of things. High tax on earnings on top of that is unnecessary,’ was his argument. Riley was disgusted, and she couldn’t help but let it be known. Though she’d been raised around money, she didn’t consider herself part of this world anymore. She’d opted out a while back.
Even at eighteen, as Riley embarked on a degree that was his choice (he was paying for it and Mike Powell only paid for what he wanted, a daughter with a BA in business), she knew she’d never follow in his size nines. After she’d graduated from university, she knew she couldn’t take another penny from him. It came with too many strings. She decided to snip them cleanly, make her own money, choose her own path. It was hard at first, but she soon got used to it. And now? She felt like she was her own
woman. Whatever she’d lost to gain that feeling had been worth it. Being under his roof again made her uneasy. She was going to get out of this fancy place as quickly as she could.
She had some house shares to look at later in the week. Until then, she was trying to suck it up and play nice. It was hard. Her dad’s attitudes repulsed her. It wasn’t enough to have a lot. He had to have everything.
Riley pitied his new wife. Amanda couldn’t have truly known what she was signing up for when she married him and started a family. He’d probably laid on the charm at first. But then she went and got pregnant, didn’t she? She was a tired, hassled mum now, much less exciting than the thirty-year-old he’d seduced in the beginning. Oh, and poor little Mia? As far as Riley could see, Mike Powell was no more interested in his new kid than he was in his old one. They were both useless to him for similar reasons. Mia was finding her independence, too; the word ‘No’ her favourite. Mike could no more tell her what to do than he could Riley.
