so far, he’s managed to contain it and I’ve managed to keep the mood buoyant. Somehow. It’s exhausting, but my focus now is on keeping things calm for Jack. My son is here. He’s alive.
When both bottles are half-full of milk, I hear my phone vibrate.
‘Shit.’ I shuffle my hip towards Gav. ‘Sorry about this. Can you just …’
He reaches over and slides out the phone from my pocket. I notice how careful he is not to touch me – whether he can’t bear to, or he doesn’t want to give me the wrong impression, I don’t know.
‘God, this old thing. Never could work your bloody keypad.’ He presses in my code – Jack and Thea’s birthdays – and I watch his eyes flicker over the screen.
‘Well, there are about a million messages from school parents from about two hours ago. And there’s one here from …’ he squints and brings the handset close up to his eyes. ‘Unknown number?’
‘Weird. What’s it say?’ This feels so like how we used to be. Comfortable and free. My heart aches again. ‘Go on, read it then.’ I almost drop the bottles of milk as I lean over, willing him to hurry.
‘Wow. This is something else.’
‘What?’ I wonder what on earth he’s talking about.
‘But there’s no name. It’s just a random number.’
‘Read it out then. Come on.’
‘It says: Dear Liza. I’m so sorry about Jack. I’ve paid for a maternity nurse to come and watch Thea for the next two days and nights, whilst you get adjusted. She’s called Mary. We had her after both Felix and Wolf were born and she’s a saint. I had some problems after Wolf and she still managed beautifully. Here’s her number. She’ll start today. Please text her your address.’
For a minute, I have absolutely no idea who has texted. Who would be so generous and do something so extraordinarily kind? But then the names Felix and Wolf ring a bell. Felix. Wolf. I had heard that only yesterday. Who could forget the name Wolf? And bam, out of nowhere, I know. It’s her.
No explanation of how she’d found out what happened, nothing to indicate how she’d got my number. It’s so like her, I think, from what I know of her. How she was at NCT: so confident in her choices. I think of those grey eyes. The way they’d scanned the drinks menu in the café. Her long limbs, supple and loose. The strong line of her nose and pale skin. And then I think about when I’d seen her after Jack had been born, in the street – she’d been kind to me then, offered a hand of friendship as I’d stood in the street, shivering, unaware of who I was – but I’d just pushed it to the back of my mind. I think about Sarah – how her body had gone rigid the minute she saw Ella Bradby in the corner of the room yesterday. The slackness of her mouth. And then afterwards, when they had both walked over together into the soft-play, after checking on Jack. The way Sarah’s eyes had darted around the room. Look at me. Look at who I’m with. And then, the conspiratorial apologetic look she had given me, which I had studiously chosen to ignore.
I’d felt suspicious then, but maybe I had just been jealous? Maybe I had thought badly of Ella all this time and actually the problem was with me and the association of when I had last seen her – when everything started to fall apart.
‘Ella,’ I say to Gav. ‘Oh my God. It’s Ella. Remember her? NCT?’
In fact, I know he does. No one could forget her.
‘I do,’ he replies. ‘I totally do. She went AWOL, yeah?’
‘Yes. No one knew why. But well, I bumped into her yesterday. Just before … Anyway. Her kid is at school with Jack but not in the same class. And neither me nor Sarah have ever laid eyes on her at the school gates. Guess she’s back and nicer than we thought.’
‘Oh. I’m surprised you didn’t mention it. I know Sarah was obsessed with her. Anyway – it appears that yes, she is back,’ says Gav. He looks over at Jack and nods his head. ‘And two days’ maternity nurse? Wow. I think she might just be our fairy godmother. It will be good to have an extra set of eyes on everything.’
I guess, despite everything that’s happened in the last two days, despite the fact my son is lying in a hospital bed next to me, despite me wanting to shake Gav to come to his senses, we’ve agreed on one thing, at last.
West London Gazette editorial notes, October 2019
J Roper interview transcript: Faye Hollis, witness, The Vale Club
Are you sure this is anonymous? I mean, my job could be on the line. I’ve been with my family for three years now: two little girls. I’m a live-out. But I still know them back to front because I babysit twice a week and I’ve been on holiday with them. They employed me fresh out of Norland College for Nannies. They expect full loyalty – so, they must never, ever find out I’ve been speaking to you. It’s this code of conduct thing. They know we all gossip about them behind their backs. For us it’s work, you see?
‘Oh, you must hate us,’ they say. ‘And talk about how awful we are to all your other nanny friends. I hope you don’t think our children are too bratty.’ But they don’t mean it. Really, they’re just looking for reassurance that we haven’t been discussing their children – or their parenting habits. But of course, we have.
So I was there. When it happened. I didn’t see the actual fall. For me it was just a normal day. Pretty intense because it’s half-term but a group of us had met that morning. It was the same as it normally is, just on hyper-mode; all the parents competing all the time. Perfect little children, perfectly dressed up. And if one of their children starts to have a meltdown, they speak extra loudly – just so everyone knows they’re disciplining their child. ‘Maximilian, do we do that at home? No we don’t.’ (And let me tell you, Maximilian definitely does do that at home.) Or they just give in to save face – ‘Here, Maximilian of course you can have ten chocolate bars,’ whilst hissing at him on the sly that he’s going to have his favourite toy taken away later on.
But anyway – it was all a bit busy. We were going about our business, when we heard this terrible scream. Everyone froze for a minute. Then I saw this one woman – she had brown hair and was in leggings – rush outside. I thought she looked like she was going to faint. It must have been her son because when we looked outside she was sobbing over him. She was at the table where you can see outside into the playground, so I suppose she must have been watching but, you know – if it had been one of us nannies in charge, it would have been a totally different ballgame. For a start, we would never have been sitting there, we would have been outside. It’s an unspoken rule at the club, that that table is reserved only for mums and dads.
Because, you know – there’s a list of rules us nannies have to stick to. No phone during working hours. Engaging with the kids at all times. Always be next to them. Healthy food. Consistency with discipline. All the things we’d do anyway. But – it’s like, we’re held to a totally different set of standards to the parents.
I spend all day with my two charges – seven a.m. to seven p.m., doing exactly what their mum and dad ask me to do – and I work hard to do it. But then the parents get back from work and undo everything I’ve achieved that day. They sit there on their phones as soon as they get back from their jobs. Slumped on the sofa and then they wonder why their kids are jumping all over them, demanding their attention. And then – the cheek of it, I’ve spent hours preparing freshly pressed juices, fresh salmon and the likes – the parents let them eat what they like. ‘Yes of course you can have a bowl of Coco Pops.’
I tell Mum and Dad, ‘They’ve already had a very healthy dinner,’ and you were the ones that implemented that bloody rule anyway, I want to shout, but they look at me and then they look directly at their child, and say, ‘It’s OK. Mummy said you could.’ It drives all of us nannies wild.
I’m