Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
There’s not too much more winter left. Soon the blossoms will be out and the playgrounds will be full again. I’ll be with a new family, helping new children to grow and bloom. In the meantime, I’ve endured much worse than a few months without a job. I’ve got options. I could get a bar job, a waitressing job, even a cleaning job in the mornings or something that would keep my afternoons free for interviews. Anything will help pay the bills and ensure my savings are kept safe for Eddie and Dylan.
But I also need a room to call my own and a family I can be useful to, a child to jump in puddles with. I have to believe a nanny job is bound to come along soon. But until it does, I have to cast my net wider. I’m going to sign up with other nanny agencies and look into temporary work. I’ve heard of temp jobs that turn into something more permanent. Who’s to say it won’t happen to me?
I’ve got this. It’s the truth, sure, but it’s also a promise to myself. You have to have this, I remind myself.
You don’t have any other choice.
SIX
Eira
I turn backward and push open the heavy metal gate with its chipped green paint and pull the buggy in after me. Coram’s Fields is my favorite playground. Nestled in the center of London, in between Georgian town houses, it’s a playground you can’t enter unless you have a child with you.
“Shall we start at the swings?” I say to Elliot, who’s not quite one. It’s only my second day with him, covering for another nanny who’s off sick. Temporary work isn’t ideal, since it’s uncertain and doesn’t allow me time to get to know the children. But as my nanny Gabby would have said, needs must.
I unclip Elliot from the buggy and place him in the baby swing. “Hold on,” I say. He grins at me, his chubby cheeks a little reddened from the frosty air. He tips his head back, enjoying the motion, then lets out a squawk that sounds like a tropical bird.
There’s a bench next to the swings where an older lady in a smart black mac and sensible lace-up shoes, just like the ones we used to wear with our nanny uniform at school, sits with a pram. I glance around to see if she has an older child with her as well, or whether she’s just with the baby, but there aren’t any other children nearby. There’s a kid in the sandpit about ten meters away and another one on the zipwire at the back of the playground. It’s otherwise empty because it’s winter, not to mention the middle of a school day.
“Elliot,” I call as he swings toward me. “There you are!” I catch the swing with one hand and tap him on the nose with the other before letting him swing back, giggling.
“Excuse me, young lady?” the woman on the bench says, her hand lifted in the air to get my attention. “You don’t happen to have some paracetamol, do you?”
I walk around the swing so I’m swinging Elliot from the back, but I’m nearer the bench. “I’m sorry, I never carry them.” In my experience, little fingers always find the one thing you don’t want them to, so I try not to have things in my bag that I wouldn’t be happy for them to play with.
She winces and swallows, but tries to smile. “That’s okay. Thank you.”
“Are you okay?” I ask. “Can I call someone for you?”
She shifts so she’s sitting forward on the bench and bends her head. Her grip is white-knuckled around the buggy handle.
“I do think we need to find Daddy.” She nods toward the football field, where teams practice on the all-weather court at the back of the playground.
“He’s playing football?” I ask.
“Yes.” Her voice is a wheeze and she’s gripping her chest.
Never mind Daddy. I think we need an ambulance. “Do you need to lie down?” I ask as I pull out my phone from my pocket.
She doesn’t respond, but she leans back on the bench, her breathing labored. I dial for an ambulance.
Glancing around, I try to see if there’s anyone official I can wave over who might have a first-aid kit. Obviously, I have some training, but this lady looks like she’s having a seizure or a stroke or something.
I pull Elliot out of the swing, place him back in the buggy and bring the buggy around to the back of the bench so I can keep an eye on him. I take the pram from the woman’s fingers and maneuver it next to Elliot so they’re both safe. The baby in there is nicely wrapped up and sleeping peacefully.
I give details to the emergency services. UCH is just around the corner. I wonder if it’s better to take her in a taxi? But it’s impossible with two babies.