Page 49 of Worth Every Risk

Lucie’s bottom lip begins to quiver, and her big innocent eyes look up at her mother like the woman has punched a fist rightthrough her ribcage and dragged her heart back out through the debris. Which is exactly what I want to do to Gemma.

“Couldn’t agree more,” says another woman, coming over to join them. She reminds me of an over-sized bird, all dressed in red with a pointed nose and slightly too-large chin. “We’ve got three nannies at home. One for each child. The less I see of my kids, the better. David”—she waves at a tall blond man, who’s shoving what looks like a tiny Yorkshire pudding into his mouth—“wants to have another. Can you imagine? I said to him, ‘David, do you really want another child, or is it a status symbol? Because if it’s the latter, I’d far rather get the kitchen redesigned or buy a new car’. God knows, the kids cost just as much.”

The three of them burst into raucous laughter.

I kneel at Lucie’s side, putting my arm around her. “You okay, sweetie?”

“I’m hungry,” she says, and I’m struck by the fact this kid has already learned to suppress what she’s really feeling. Maybe she is hungry, but it’s certainly not the only thing going on.

I squeeze her hand. “I’ll get you something.”

Gemma is still clutching the plate of blinis I dismantled, so I make my way to the food table here, pick up a plate and start choosing things.

“Did I say you could eat here?” Gemma’s at my side, having left Mark and the red-bird-woman discussing how much they hate their kids.

“It’s for Lucie,” I reply, but I also haven’t eaten and I’m starving.Was I supposed to bring myself a packed lunch?

“She hasn’t eaten yet?” Gemma asks. “For crying out loud, what have you been doing? You know it’s the boat race soon?” She thrusts the plate of salmon back at me. “Go on, give her this, then. If you must. Just keep her out of sight while she’s eating. She’s messy, and it turns my stomach. I’m easily nauseated.”

Gemma swaps her empty champagne glass for a fresh one, which she snatches from one of the staff. She takes a sip and wanders away, leaving me wishing I could brush myself off in case any of her nasty energy is stuck in my field. But I figure everyone here would look at me like I'm crazy, so I focus on my task instead.

As I’m filling Lucie's plate with other bits from the buffet, I notice an influx of school boys drifting across the fields between the parked cars.

They’re wearing the fanciest school uniform I’ve ever seen. Long burgundy tail coats paired with striped trousers, and waistcoats over white shirts. Some of the boys have different colour waistcoats, which must signify some rank or position in the school, but I have no idea what. They have little white bow tie type things around their necks. They look like characters from a period drama, and against the backdrop of the ancient, immense school buildings, I feel like I’ve been dropped into an alternate universe, where everyone is rich and privileged, and no one bats an eyelid at how bizarre it is.

Three boys make their way towards me, heading directly for the food. In the middle is a tall youth, who looks just like Mr Hawkston. He must be Charlie. He’s tall for a sixteen-year-old, but nowhere near as bulky and muscled as his dad. Charlie has a lean, almost lanky appearance that suggests he’s yet to fill out.

On either side of him are two equally tall blond boys, but they are closer to men; more muscular, their faces more mature. I guess they’re a few years older than Charlie.

At first, I assume they’re a group of friends, but when I look closer, I notice Charlie doesn’t look comfortable. The other two, clearly brothers, are pinning him in, knocking against him. Charlie jolts between them, shoved first one way, then the other, his brow creased. He makes no move to retaliate, and the other two boys are laughing.

“Boys,” Mark Charlton shouts. He opens his arms, and I realise these are the kids of Gemma’s new partner. The boys openly embrace him at the same time, while Charlie hangs back. Gemma hasn’t noticed him, and when Mark draws her attention to them, she greets his children first, only then going over to Charlie.

She’s tall and can see almost eye to eye with her son in her huge heels. She puts her finger beneath his chin. “You look tired. Are you sleeping? Do I need to call the school about the quality of the bed? We could get one shipped in for you.”

Charlie shakes his head out of her grip. “No, Mum. The bed’s fine.”

“Why do you look so dreadful then? Look at Ben and Hugo.” She points over at the two boys. “They look healthy. You look like you’re half-dead.”

“I have to train early mornings for rowing. The boat race,” Charlie explains.

Gemma laughs, but I’m not sure what she’s laughing at, and if the baffled look Charlie gives her is anything to go by, he doesn’t know either. But his face falls, and I know whatever the laugh meant, his mother is mocking him, and from the practised movement of his features, it’s a regular occurrence.

“The boys are training too,” she scolds. “You’re not the only one. Maybe we should book you in for a facial in the holidays.”

Hugo and Ben start chuckling, having overheard this. “That won’t sort his ugly mug,” shouts one of them.

Gemma smiles as if this is genuinely funny. A flash of hurt crosses Charlie’s face, and he makes his way to the food table and stares down at what’s on offer.

“Can I get you a drink, sir?” one of the staff asks.

He looks up. “Just water, please.” The waiter disappears and returns with a fresh glass of iced water. “Thanks,” Charlie mumbles. He keeps staring at the food, but doesn’t pickanything up. Then, drawn by my attention, he looks at me. “Hi,” he says.

I give him a big smile, hoping it might induce him to smile back at me, but his lips don’t even flicker. “I’m Aries. I’m your new nanny. I’ll be looking after you for the summer.”

He huffs a hollow laugh. “Great. A nanny. Dad really doesn’t fucking trust me, does he?”

I try not to show how taken aback I am. “Should he?”

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