Be My Baby. Fiona Harper
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sat down on a low bench and tried to work out how to take her shoes off while keeping her hands mud-free. Eventually she succeeded and placed them side by side under the bench. Then she hung her fleece on a hook.
Come on, Gaby! Nothing to be frightened of. He should be apologising to you, really. But she stood motionless, her feet feeling the cold of the tiled floor. Somehow, the prospect of being interviewed in her socks made her feel at a disadvantage.
Luke’s face reappeared through the open door and she flinched.
‘It’s this way.’
He pointed down a small corridor. The only thing she could do was scurry through the house after him until they reached the kitchen.
‘Coffee?’
He didn’t wait for her answer, but turned to fill the kettle.
How bizarre! It was as if the whole scene outside had never happened. She’d bet there was only a slim chance of getting an apology too. But that was okay. It was so long since she’d heard anything like that pass a man’s lips, she was starting to think they were genetically incapable. At least she knew what she was getting if he acted like that. Seven years of marriage to David had given her plenty of practice.
She leaned over the kitchen counter slightly to look out of the window. The river was as smooth as glass. Off in the distance she could see the jetty in the village, but no smudge of red fleece was visible.
Slowly, she became aware that he was watching her. She turned and straightened, feeling instantly as if she’d been summoned to stand in front of the headmaster. He didn’t smile, but he didn’t look fierce either. He just seemed to be taking her in. Assessing her.
‘They said they’d try to send someone, but I thought our luck had run out.’
‘Pardon?’
He frowned. ‘The agency. Mrs Pullman said she’d try a long shot, but she wasn’t hopeful. When you were late, I assumed the long shot hadn’t paid off.’
‘Well, here I am—at last.’ Far too bright and chirpy. She was overcompensating. ‘Don’t worry about…earlier. I totally understand.’
Old habits died hard. She was apologising for being in the right, yet again.
‘So, as you know, I’m Luke Armstrong. Mrs Pullman didn’t get around to telling me your name.’
‘Gabrielle—well, Gaby, really. Michaels. Gaby Michaels.’
‘Like the angels.’
‘The what?’
‘The archangels—in the Bible. Gabriel and Michael.’
She creased her forehead and looked at him hard. Was he making fun of her? His face was blank. In fact, he looked as if he’d forgotten how to laugh. Definitely not a joke, then.
‘I’d never thought of my name that way.’
He nodded.
Boy, this guy was cryptic! She had no more idea of what he was thinking than she had of when high tide was. They were never going to get through the interview if they carried on like this.
She took a deep breath. ‘How old is your daughter, then?’
‘I thought I was supposed to be interviewing you.’
She shrugged. ‘Interview away. But there are a few things I need to know before I decide if I’m…what you need.’ She had been going to say staying, but something had stopped her. Maybe it was the fact that she suspected he hadn’t always been like this, that he needed a second chance. Heaven knew she was an expert at that. Her ex had used up second, third and three-hundredth chances.
He plonked a mug of coffee in front of her and she saw his eyes glaze slightly as he slipped into autopilot. This definitely wasn’t the first time he’d done this. He asked her the usual stuff at first, but then he put down his mug and looked at her.
‘If you don’t mind my saying, you’re not what I expected. Most of the nannies I’ve seen have been younger and—er—dressed a little differently.’
She didn’t think for a minute it would matter if she did mind, and decided she might as well be equally straightforward.
‘Well, Mr Armstrong, just because I don’t look like Mary Poppins, it doesn’t mean I’m not competent at my job. Some children find meeting new people a little unsettling, especially if they look all starched and pressed. I find it helps if I’m more casually dressed.’
It was one of her strong points—the fact she could still remember that situations adults took for granted could be very uncomfortable for a child. It was why the agency had liked to send her off to deal with some of the ‘problem’ cases when she’d been working full time as a nanny. And why Mrs Pullman had phoned her up out of the blue when every available nanny on her books had baulked at taking this job. She’d jumped at the chance. It had to beat her temporary job at the riotous soft-play centre in Croydon.
‘As for my age, well, I’m returning to work after a few years’ break.’
‘Oh?’ He looked suspicious.
‘When I got married, my husband preferred I didn’t work.’
‘And he doesn’t mind now?’
‘It’s none of his business. We’ve been divorced for nearly a year.’ She didn’t add that her husband had got the seven year itch and had scratched it enthusiastically.
‘And now you’re back on the market? Job-wise, I mean,’ he added hastily.
‘I am.’ She gave a little smile, a real one. ‘Actually, I’m really looking forward to being a nanny again.’
‘Well, I’m glad you decided to come out of retirement for us. Heather definitely needs an experienced hand. How soon can you start? We could do with you right now.’
She’d been planning to visit one of her old school-friends who lived in Exeter after the interview. She hadn’t seen Caroline for years and was looking forward to a week of coffee and gossiping.
‘Oh. I’m not sure I…Don’t you want some time to think? To check references?’
His mouth pulled down at the corners and he shook his head. ‘If you’re good enough for the Bright Sparks Agency, you’re good enough for me. And besides, I’m desperate.’
Her chair scraped on the slate floor as she stood, but before she’d even managed to say she needed time to think, the back door slammed open. She was facing the oposite direction but, from the grim look on Luke Armstrong’s face, she had no doubt that his experienced-hand-needing daughter had just made her entrance.
‘Heather, this is—’
A red fleece swept past the kitchen table and out into the living room. Moments later heavy feet pounded the stairs in a distant part of the house.
Luke shot to his feet, his eyes blazing.
‘I’m sorry about that. She’s having a difficult time adjusting at the moment. I—I’ll explain later.’
With that, he forged out of the room. More heavy footsteps. Must be genetic. She couldn’t have made that much noise if she were wearing lead boots. Muffled shouting. A door slammed. Then footsteps in tandem.
Luke nudged Heather into the room. Her eyes were on the floor and her bottom lip stuck out like a toddler’s. ‘Luke says I’ve got to say hello.’
‘Heather!’ The rising volume of his voice had Gaby shaking, but it seemed to flow off the girl. Her chin jutted more decidedly into her chest.
‘Heather, I would like you to say hello to Gaby. She’s going to be looking after you when I start work.’
Gaby