Page 10 of Dr. Single Dad

I look around, trying to find a cloth or something. “I’ll get some kitchen roll.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Eira stand, but I dash out of the room.

When I return with a roll of kitchen towel, Eira is on her hands and knees at the coffee table. “There now—crisis averted. That’s the best kind of crisis.” She laughs and stands. “Let me find a bin for these tissues.”

“I’ll take them,” I offer, but she brushes past me to the kitchen. “The bin is under the sink,” I call after her.

She returns to the living room, and I can detect the scent of my handwash. Maybe she’s not as messy as I first thought. “There.” She grins as she retakes her seat. Her cheeks are flushed as if she’s just come in from the cold and her eyes are full of mischief. “Nannies always have tissues in their handbags. Along with a thousand other things.”

“A regular Mary Poppins,” Jacob says, and finally the sense of familiarity clicks. The coat, the umbrella, the bag, the…eye sparkle.

“Our patron saint,” Eira says, not missing a beat.

Jacob is clearly delighted, evidenced by his next question. “When would you be able to start?”

I clear my throat, trying to wrestle back control of the interview. Despite what Jacob thinks, this isn’t his decision. “We’re obviously seeing other candidates.”

“I’m available immediately,” she responds. “When are you looking for someone to begin?”

“Is today too soon?” Vincent asks.

“Vincent!” I growl under my breath.

Eira laughs, but I don’t feel she’s laughing at me—more like she thinks we’re incorrigible. “Why don’t I leave you to have a chat amongst yourselves and you can call the agency. I’ll see myself out.”

Maybe it’s because she lives in other people’s houses, but she seems so comfortable. As if there’s nothing she could come across that would ruffle her feathers. She beams at the three of us as she stands, and I watch her, trying to figure her out.

I’m still trying by the time it occurs to me that I should have seen Eira to the door, but by then, she’s already gone.

FIVE

Eira

I’ve only taken three steps outside little Guinevere’s building when my phone rings. I know it’s my sister before I answer it. Not because I’ve assigned a distinctive ringtone to her call, but because she’s gotten used to me not being at work for the last three months and as a result, she calls me throughout the day. I don’t mind. In fact, I quite like hearing her voice and knowing she’s safe. I just worry that she’s not enjoying where she is if she’s constantly calling me.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Sure,” Eddie replies. “I’m just home from lectures and about to start some work, then I realized I need to go to the library.”

Scintillating. “Okay, well I’ll let you get on with it.” I glance back at the building I’ve just exited.

Usually I have an instant connection with a family. Or not. Ordinarily, I leave an interview knowing whether or not I’m going to be offered the position. But with Guinevere, I’m not sure either way and…I don’t know if I want it. Not because Guinevere isn’t an absolute dot. She is. And not because it’s notin a great part of town—it is. But the flat’s small and Dax, the father… Well, he could be a problem for me.

The first rule they teach you at nanny school is about the line between you and the family and specifically, how not to cross it. I’ve always found it easy to stay professional—to look the other way when I see something I shouldn’t, or overhear a row that should be kept private. But there’s something about Dax that makes those boundaries seem…blurry. Maybe it’s the size of the flat. Maybe it’s because the agency told me Guinevere’s mother isn’t involved.

Maybe it’s the fact that Dax is completely and utterly, one hundred percent gorgeous.

From what the agency said, the position offers good money, which means I’m unlikely to turn it down. The economic conditions at the moment mean high-paying roles are few and far between. Nannies aren’t moving from well-paid positions, and there are fewer foreign wealthy families coming to London than ever before. For the last three months, I’ve been holding out for a plum role—something I’ve always managed to secure—but if something doesn’t come up soon, I’m going to have to compromise. My savings are dwindling and Eddie’s next three-month rent instalment is due next month.

“What about you? Are you okay?” she asks.

“Of course I’m okay,” I say. “I’m always okay.”

“How did the interview go? Do you think you got it?”

“No idea,” I say. Looking into Dax’s eyes was unsteadying. It was as if he could see me through to my bones. I felt a pull towards him as if I already know him, or somehow know Iwillknow him. I can’t quite make sense of it.

Finding your charge’s father attractive is never going to end well, and I’ve been lucky to have dodged that dilemma for my entire career. In most of the positions I’ve held, the fathers haven’t been particularly involved with the children. They’retraveling or working and I have limited time with them. But that’s clearly not going to be the case with Guinevere’s father. Sharing a house with a man so disarming, so very attractive, might be…distracting. Probably better if I don’t get offered.

---