Babysitter for the Single Dad Page 8

  “I don’t think that would be wise. She doesn’t want to speak to you, and you forcing your attention on your nanny is not going to go down too well with Clarice Deville when she shows up here today.”

  “Clarice from the Clarion?”

  “Yes, we’re old pals, didn’t you know? We were at boarding school in Switzerland together.”

  “School for witches, was it?” I can’t resist the dig, though I’m shaking with rage and upset. I thought I knew Jenna. Does Angelica have some hold over her? More pictures trying to destroy her life? Maybe it’s kinder not to drag her into this, and just let her go, but I can’t bear that. I’ll find her. Talk to her.

  “And don’t even think about contacting your nanny friend later,” Angelica says. “If she goes back on our deal because of your weasel words, she won’t like it and neither will you.”

  CHAPTER 33

  Jenna

  Katie is surprised when I call her room to say the car is there to take her the airport and she comes down to find I’m going, too. She says she left me several messages once she got out of bed, but I haven’t had access to my phone. When I got in the car, the driver handed my bag back and when I looked around inside everything I had in it seemed to be there. Except my old battered phone. There’s a brand new one in its place, probably with a new number. Another of Angelica’s little games to make it harder for me to call Elliott or him to call me?

  “What’s going on? Have you had a fight?” Katie asks.

  “Not exactly. I’ll tell you later.”

  “You love him. He loves you. I can tell that. So what happened to make you go home?”

  I nudge my head at the driver. “Nothing. It just fell apart.” Angelica insisted on providing a car to take me first to the hotel to pack up my “old things,” as she called them, under the watchful eye of the driver, and then onto the airport. He’s probably reporting back everything we say.

  The traffic to Charles de Gaulle is horrific. It’s just as well we set out early. Katie squeezes my hand. I think she gets that I can’t talk.

  Even when we arrive and the driver unloads our bags at the departure bay, I really don’t want to talk about it, I’m so upset, almost as bad as if somebody died. But I can’t leave Katie in the dark. My friend has been with me through every kind of scrape. This is just a much bigger scrape than usual, one I’m not sure I’ll get over in a long, long time. Maybe never.

  And so I tell her about my encounter with Angelica’s goons, with Angelica herself, and her threat to destroy Elliott’s career.

  “The bitch. Worse than Stephanie Price in school.” Always our yardstick for bitchiness of the highest order. Now we have a new one.

  “Far worse.” Stephanie Price tried to steal my boyfriend when I was fifteen and spread all kinds of rumors about me. But she never terrified the life out of me by kidnapping me and putting me on a plane. Looking back, Stephanie is welcome to that boyfriend. I can’t say I’ll ever say the same about Angelica and Elliott.

  “You should give Elliott a call and arrange to see him without Angelica knowing. He can see you in London.”

  “I don’t think it’s as easy as that. If she ever finds out, she’ll destroy him. And there are photographers and people with camera phones everywhere. It just wouldn’t work.”

  “But you’ll talk to him, anyway? You can’t leave it like this.”

  “I need to think about it. I don’t know what Angelica has said to him about the reason I left. He called her when I was there, but she was talking to him when she left the room. I doubt she told him she threatened his career.”

  “But you can tell him the truth.”

  “I can, but what will he do if he knows that? Maybe she’s goading him into doing something outrageous that will destroy him anyway.”

  “Fuck, she’s got it all sewn up, hasn’t she? The bitch.”

  “You got it.”

  Our flight is called. I wasn’t even panicking about that with everything else going on.

  Part of me hopes Elliott will run into the airport, bursting past security, and make everything all right. But of course he doesn’t. That kind of thing only ever happens in romantic comedies like Love Actually, and this situation is far from funny.

  At least I have Katie on the flight this time, and thank goodness, we’re in an odd-numbered seat. I tell myself that superstition is nonsense, and yet I’m glad of that…

  CHAPTER 34

  Elliott

  It’s time to meet fire with fire. There’s no way I can let Angelica win in all this. Whatever she says about Jenna, I don’t think Jenna is the kind of girl to run just because there’s an offer of cash on the table.

  But I have to be careful. Angelica has Sophie, and I want her back. I don’t believe Angelica would deliberately harm our child, but snatching a baby from everything she’s used to is not right, and I miss my daughter. I can’t see Angelica giving Sophie all the love and hugs she needs, making her feel wanted and secure.

  The thought of Sophie being a pawn in Angelica’s scheming enrages me anew, but I have to calm down to figure out what to do for the best. I pace the hotel suite.

  Even Armitage doesn’t expect me to work with this going on. He’s shooting some minor scenes with the other actors he thinks can be improved, but he expects me back on the set tomorrow, and I can’t let the whole cast, film crew, and production down. It’s only a few days, but being a professional is going to be torture. There will be little I can do myself until the film is in the can.

  Meanwhile, I’ve put a whole bunch of people onto this. The sooner I get the filming over with, the better. They’ll find out as much as they can, and then I’ll take over and decide what to do.

  My thoughts go in all kinds of directions, every scenario as bad, if not worse, than the last.

  Fuck being calm. I just want this over and done with. I want Sophie and Jenna back, just how we were.

  CHAPTER 35

  Jenna

  Two days later I’m back in London, applying for jobs, as if I’ve never been away. Out of a job and out of a relationship. It hits me hard, because I know how special things were with me and Elliott. And because I know neither of us wanted it to end.

  But I have to forget all that. Thinking about it will make my mascara run, and I’m going around to the agency I used to get the job with Elliott to see if they have anything for me. I may as well try there first, as I’m already on their books.

  Thank goodness Katie never got a new roommate. I could never afford to pay rent in London otherwise. Katie is so lucky her parents bought her a little two-bedroom place in Camden. But her luck is my luck, too. Jobs are plentiful in London, but nanny and daycare salaries are no match for usual London prices.

  The receptionist at the agency shows me into the little office in Kensington. But it turns out Madeleine, who interviewed me for the job in Palma, is reluctant to offer me another position. “You lasted so little time with that one. What was wrong with your employer, exactly? We can’t get him on the phone to verify he was happy with your services. Our nannies are la crème de la crème. We don’t take just anyone, you know.”

  I try to explain.

  “His daughter’s mother came back. She wanted to take her daughter away and employ her own nanny.”

  Madeleine looks over the top of her spectacles at me. “It wouldn’t be anything to do with that picture in the Clarion?”

  I blush. I didn’t think they would have seen that at the agency. I can’t imagine Madeleine with all her hoity-toity airs buying that newspaper.

  “Perhaps you had better lie low for a while,” she says. “Take a job caring for older people who won’t remember you.”

  “I don’t think people will remember me from the newspaper, and it wasn’t my fault.”

  Madeleine sniffs. “No, it never is.”

  I leave, my tail between my legs. I want to work with children. It’s a job I love and even if I say so myself, I’m good at it. I’m sure I’ll get something
elsewhere. It just stings that she was so nice to me when she interviewed me a couple of months ago, and now she is turning her nose up at me.

  I wander back to the apartment and sling my coat on the couch.

  “No luck?” Katie asks. “I ordered pizza. It should be here soon, or we’ll get it free. I thought you might need cheering up.”

  I tell her about Madeleine. “Just as well it’s not the only agency in town,” she says.

  I switch on my laptop, but I can’t face looking for jobs right now. Cat videos on Facebook are about all I can stomach. I make a cup of coffee while we wait for the pizza and scroll through all the crap. I definitely need a laugh. There’s all the news of friends having fun in far-flung places and the ones who post everything they do; then there are the ads, and yes, the cat videos.

  “There’s a video of a cat stealing cheese here. I didn’t even know cats liked cheese,” I say to Katie.

  She takes a look and then scrolls on. I don’t mind. I have no secrets from Katie. “Oh. There’s a nanny job there. I don’t know how Facebook does that. It’s as if they know you’ve been looking for stuff.”

  “It’s called targeting or something. Let me look.”

  Katie hands my laptop over. And I burst out laughing.

  “What?” she says. “Another cat?”

  “No, it’s the job ad. The small print says, “Help wanted to look after a toddler. Must have experience of arm-wrestling and a phobia of flying. Odd-numbered age preferred. But there’s no phone number. Just a name. Ben Travers. That’s Elliott. It’s the name he used the first time when he was looking for a nanny.”

  “Get in touch with him. He must be telling you it’s okay now.”

  “There’s no way he’d know I was going to look at Facebook. But it looks like something happened for him to post that. I’ll need to work out how to contact him now, seeing as his number was in my phone.”

  Katie answers the door for the pizza, just as I say, “I do want to know what changed, though.”

  “Everything changed,” Elliott says. “Sorry for barging in. I just got the information telling me where you lived, Katie, and came straight here.”

  “Elliott!” I run to the door and he pulls me into his arms and hugs me tight. “What are you doing here? Does Angelica know you’re here? Where’s Sophie?”

  “Sophie is with her aunt, but I’m sure they can’t wait to see you. I just had to track you down. I’ve had a bunch of investigators on the case while I finished filming. Armitage nearly had apoplexy at the thought I might disappear. But I’ve been trying to tell you it would be okay with my ads.”

  “Your ads? There’s more than one?”

  “I put them everywhere—on Facebook, in the newspaper, morning and evening editions. There’s even a billboard in Piccadilly Circus.”

  “I just saw the one on Facebook.”

  “So much for advertising. It sucks.”

  “What happened with Angelica? Did she just give Sophie back?”

  “Not just like that. I called the Clarion. Despite how bad they can be, they are still interested in publishing the truth, to a certain degree, especially if the truth means a good story for them.”

  “You stitched up Angelica?”

  “No. I didn’t go that far, but I’ve had investigators keeping an eye on her for a while in case she pulled something like this. I threatened her with some truths of my own. I did the best acting job of my life, because I had to make her believe I would tell the whole truth to the newspaper if she didn’t back off, but I don’t want Sophie to know how bad her mother is if I can help it.”

  “That’s true. Poor Sophie.” I shudder at the thought of having Angelica for a mother. “But at least she’s back safe with you now.”

  “Yes, Angelica handed her over without too much fuss in the end. I hope you don’t mind this, but I offered the Clarion the story of how I fell for my nanny, hook, line and sinker.”

  He smiles and kisses me.

  “No, I don’t mind that kind of story,” I say.

  “I told the newspaper editor that even if Angelica didn’t retract whatever story she told her pal Clarice about a break up and reconciliation, or the addiction I was supposed to be suffering from, I’d sue them for every penny, because there isn’t an ounce of truth in any of it.”

  “I’m glad you stood up to them.”

  “I hope you don’t mind about me telling our story. It was the only truth I wanted them to publish. But I had to promise them rights to our wedding pictures to make them listen.”

  “Our wedding pictures?”

  “Well, I was hoping you would agree.”

  “He’s asking you to marry him,” Katie says, laughing. “You’re supposed to say yes.”

  “Yes,” I say. Elliott picks me up and spins me around just as the pizza guy shows up, and Elliott gives him such a big tip the guy thinks he won the lottery.

  “Do you really not mind about the pictures?” Elliott asks as we start tucking into the pizza.

  “I guess not. I didn’t imagine inviting the Clarion when I got married, but I don’t mind about anything right now.”

  He smiles at me. “It will be fine. I’m sure it will as long as they print an odd number of pictures. I’ll put it in the contract…”

  EPILOGUE

  Jenna

  We get married within six months, and the Clarion prints nineteen pictures in the middle pages.

  “I’m sure no one will believe anything but that the two of you are madly in love after seeing those,” Katie says when we look at them after we come back from our honeymoon in Mauritius.

  She was my bridesmaid, along with Sophie and Bridget. After all, it wouldn’t do to have anything other than an odd number of bridesmaids. And we had fifteen tables at the wedding. Elliott was still thirty-seven and me twenty-three. Nothing could spoil our day.

  Elliott invited a whole bunch of celebrities, and Katie was over the moon with that. But she’s even happier that her cameraman, Martin, showed up in time for the first dance. She’s still seeing him.

  Most couples settle down to some extent after they get married, but not Elliott and me. There are always new places to go, new movies to be made. I’m getting used to flying as I do it so much. It’s less scary than it was, but I still feel better when we land back on the ground in one piece.

  “Let me know if you ever get fed up with this. You can live where you want, and I’ll always come home to you and Sophie.”

  But I’m happy for now, seeing places, being with Elliott and the little one who I now think of as my daughter.

  Elliott calls us the Three Musketeers and I’m almost scared to tell him we’ll be four soon—an even number, no less.

  I wait until we’re home for Christmas. Bridget is having a Christmas Eve party, and we’re staying over until two days after Christmas. I hope she and her family will celebrate the news with us.

  I accept a glass of champagne, knowing that I’ll get Elliott to drink it for me once he knows. Somehow, I’ve gotten away with drinking soda instead of any of the hard stuff without anyone noticing. It’s lucky, at least as far as that goes, that Elliott has been working so hard in the run up to Christmas; we haven’t been going out much or even eating together a lot at home.

  “Do you have any mistletoe?” I ask Bridget. “I need to tell Elliott something.”

  She raises her eyebrows and laughs. “Of course, in the dining room. I’ll send him in, all right?”

  “What’s this all about?” he says, laughing. “Bridget said you wanted to get me in a compromising position.”

  “Kiss me,” I say. “I feel quite neglected while you’ve been working so hard.”

  He sweeps me into his arms, and makes sure I feel thoroughly and truly kissed. “I must apologize for my neglectful ways. I promise not to do it again this year.”

  “It’s December 24th. It’s almost the end of the year.”

  “I know, and I’m going to keep you in bed until January, so I ca
n keep my promise.”

  “What about Sophie?”

  “With all those new toys and their boxes to play with, probably mainly the boxes, we might not see much of her until well into February.”

  “It will be funny when she has a little brother or sister to play with. Do you think she’ll like that more than boxes?”

  His eyes light up. “Do you mean…?”

  “Yes, we won’t be the Three Musketeers for much longer. By the summer we’ll be four. Do you mind that?”

  “Of course I don’t. Four is about to become the luckiest number in the world.” And he kisses me so hard and so long that Bridget has to knock on the door to get us out, because she wants to serve dinner.

  “That’s my brother,” she says. “A kiss under the mistletoe, I would have said five minutes tops. But he doesn’t do things by halves. Was what you had to tell him what I think it was, given you haven’t touched any of your champagne?”

  “Ah, you noticed,” I say. “It was.”

  “Congratulations!” She kisses and hugs both of us. “I knew you two were meant to be a family from the first day I saw you together, you know.”

  “How’s that?” Elliott asks.

  “It was the first time you ever wanted to go to the beach in the middle of the day, and you seemed to share the care of Sophie quite easily. It was also the first time you made a drink for the babysitter, and the first time you were so polite to me over dinner at home.”

  Elliott laughs. “Sisters! They think they know you so well, but I already knew before that.” He’s not letting Bridget have the last word.

  “When was that, then?” I ask. “Going to the beach was just about the first thing we did.”

  “From the time you gripped my arm so hard on the airplane and I thought you were never going to let go. I said to myself, I want to have babies with this woman. My children will have the grip of an orangutan.”

  “You’re kidding,” I say, laughing. “You did not. And anything at that point was just attraction.”