Page 15 of The Accidental Nanny
“Okay, don’t panic. Let’s sort out what we can save, then move on to the rest.”
Thanks to Fern, we manage to salvage some of the items, which isn’t a lot. She helps me sort the next load of washing into piles of whites and darks, with a pile for mixed colours.
“I’m going to get sacked.” Placing my hands on my head, I start panicking.
“Just explain. I’m sure it will be okay,” she says in the most unsure voice I have ever heard in my life.
“I’m meant to iron as well. I need a drink.”
“No, you need to pick up the children.”
I look at the time. It’s already three. My heart skips a beat. “Fuck!”I run out of the house, leaving Fern beside the piles of washing.
Alex
My day goes from bad to worse. The new phone security app we are working on has failed, again. Then, I dropped coffee all over my new shirt. And I haven’t had a chance to speak to Gemma about the children.
The fire alarm has been set off during an important meeting, and my wife called, enquiring about why I haven’t signed the divorce papers yet. She didn’t even ask about her kids. To say I am in a bad mood is an understatement. It’s been months of no contact.
“Mr Whitlock.” Ivy, my secretary, walks in.
“Yes,” I growl at her, then clear my throat. It’s not her fault my day is crappy.
She gives me a sympathetic smile. “It’s six o’clock.”
“Fuck! Go home.” My voice is still gruff.
“It’s not that. Have you found my replacement?” She folds her hands over her stomach.
“Replacement?” I gape at her for a second, then stare at her massive baby bump. She is due to go on maternity leave soon.
“How long do you have left?” I clear my throat again, feeling like a fool.
“Three weeks. But I have to train the new person. I have a list of candidates I’ve forwarded to your email. I’ve shortlisted five for you.”
“Thank you, Ivy.”
“I’ve starred a Fern Fletcher,” Ivy says with a tired smile. “Her C.V looks amazing.”
“I’ll be on it tomorrow. Now, go home. Bye, Ivy.”
She leaves, and I grab my coat. Exiting the building I go down to the Lamborghini and drive home. The car may be ostentatious, but it sure is a pleasure to drive.
I open the front door and hear my son laughing and a high-pitched squeal coming from Eden’s mouth. It’s good to hear them enjoying themselves and I breathe a little easier that their day has gone okay.
It isn’t until I step through the kitchen door that I see the mess. The children are filthy, their clothes stained, and the laundry basket is on the kitchen unit. The whites are pink. Apparently, the kids had a take-out pizza, too.
Gemma is scrolling on her phone, eating a pizza slice. She’s not paying any attention to what is happening around her.
“What the hell is going on?” I shout. The three of them looked up with a fright.
“Daddy.” Eden smiles. “Look what I made you.” She lifts a painting. It’s a picture of a fat man with one eye and very black hair. “It’s you.”
She looks so pleased with herself. She drops the paintingon the table and comes running over to me. Her little hands covered in paint as she wraps her arms around me.
“Eden, no!” I scold her.
She looks up at me in horror. Tears fill her eyes as she bursts out crying. She steps away from me as if I had burned her.
