The Au Pair Page 7

  ‘Does everyone in France speak English?’

  ‘Can we sing that funny song again?’

  By the time they turned left into a road where the houses were, as the boys had said, really enormous, Marie-France felt as though she would really rather go home with the twins. They were so sweet and, even though pet hair made her sneeze, she quite liked the little dog, who clearly felt the same about her, judging from the way he had taken up residence on her lap. Achoo!

  ‘Bless you,’ said Madame Jilly, winding down her window. ‘OK. We’re here.’

  ‘Can I press it?’

  ‘No. Me!’

  There was a wild scramble as both boys flung themselves past her, pushing their heads through their mother’s side window in a competition to press the security pad on the gate.

  ‘Hello?’ The voice sounded a bit slurred.

  ‘It’s me, Jilly.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Jilly. I’ve got Marie-France for you.’

  ‘Oh. Right. Come on up.’

  The drive ahead of them was so long that she couldn’t even see the house at first but then it loomed up in front. Mon Dieu! Look at those huge glass windows in front from the ground right up to an arch like a church. She wouldn’t want to clean those. It would take all week.

  Harry – or was it Alfie – was elbowing her excitedly. ‘There’s the pool. Look! And Tom is in it! Can we stay, Mum. Please. Please!’

  ‘No.’ Madame Jilly’s voice was firm. ‘We haven’t been asked to play. We’ve come to drop off Marie-France.’

  ‘But you said it wasn’t really our job, Mum! You said that on the way. You said that if Tom’s mum had got her act together, she’d—’

  ‘That’s enough.’

  The car had stopped and Madame Jilly was leaning into the boot to get her luggage out. Meanwhile, the front door was opening and a very petite woman with short dark hair and a frown – just like the picture – was standing there, champagne flute in her hand. She wore pale pink sparkly jeans and a flowing jacket which made her look as though she belonged on those exotic billboards outside the airport.

  ‘Jilly! I can’t tell you what a day I’ve had! After that lunch I told you about, I had to dash down to get my nails done and now we’ve got an extra two people for dinner tonight which makes fifteen!’

  Her eye fell on Marie-France. ‘Hi. Your room is sixth on the right at the top of the stairs. But come down as soon as you can. I need you to look after the kids in the pool while I have my massage.’

  Marie-France suddenly began to feel very tired.

  Madame Green’s eyes narrowed. ‘You do speak English, don’t you? That’s what it said on the form.’

  She nodded.

  ‘Good. Otherwise you’d have to go back. Now I’ve just got one teeny little problem. Our cook’s not feeling very well. She’s made the main course but there’re still the hors d’oeuvres and the afters. You French are good at cooking, aren’t you? So I wondered if you could help me out?’

  ‘Actually,’ said Jilly tightly, ‘Marie-France has had rather a long day. It might be an idea to let her relax for a bit.’

  The dark woman’s eyes narrowed and Marie-France remembered her mother’s words. ‘Be as helpful as you can at the beginning, chérie. First impressions count. Then you can start to make your own rules.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ she said quickly. ‘I like to help and I embrace cooking.’

  She remembered this time to hold out her hand to Jilly instead of kissing her on both cheeks. ‘Thank you for arriving me.’

  ‘Actually, we say “bringing me” but it’s a pleasure.’ This time, it was Madame Jilly who gave her a brief hug, slightly to her surprise. ‘Say goodbye to Marie-France, boys.’

  The twins began waving madly from the car and, once more, Marie-France wished she could stay with them. ‘Au revoir!’ she called out. ‘Au revoir!’

  ‘Right!’ Her new boss turned smartly on her high heels, waving towards a huge glass staircase in front of them with a balcony that went round at the top like a modern chateau. ‘See you in five minutes. OK?’

  Marie-France made her way up the stairs and along the corridor. Sixth on the right? The house seemed to go on for ages! Glancing behind her to check no one was looking, she turned the handle of the fourth on the right out of curiosity and peeked in. If challenged, she could always say she’d made a mistake! There was a huge four-poster bed shrouded in a turquoise blue drape in front of her and a large sunken bath in the corner. Wow! She couldn’t wait to see her own room!

  Pausing outside the fifth on the right, she listened. Nothing. Again, she opened the door. This one was a carbon copy of the other except that the four-poster was in a canary-yellow design. Her heart quickened with excitement as she then turned the handle of the sixth room …

  Merde! Surely there must be some mistake? This was a cupboard! There was only just room for a single bed under the eaves and instead of a proper wardrobe, there was a hanging rail. Crushed with disappointment, she put down her case and looked out of the window. What a view! A line of black plastic dustbins. Ugh. She could smell the garbage from here.

  Marie-France’s first thought was that she should march downstairs and demand better accommodation but then common sense prevailed. No. She would make herself indispensable first to this rude Madame Dawn. She would look after the children in such a way that her new boss would not be able to manage without her. She would cook such a meal tonight that they would regard her as a national treasure. And then she would start making her demands. After all, as she and Maman had agreed, the English owed them one.

  Within an hour of arriving, she had made a pear tarte Tatin in Madame Green’s enormous kitchen, which was as big as her own home. For an appetiser, she had created a salmon soufflé. Mmmm. Marie-France licked her finger. Not bad, if she said so herself!

  But her employer merely glanced at her efforts without remark. ‘You can give the children their dinner now. By the way, they only eat peanut butter on toast with raspberry jam. Then you can get them to bed.’

  It took ages to get them ready! ‘Let’s see who can do it fastest,’ she’d suggested to chivvy them up.

  ‘I won, I won,’ said Tatty Arna. She was a spitting image of her mother but with a gap between her teeth.

  ‘No, I did.’ Tom pushed his sister against the wall of her bedroom, which had a picture of a fairy castle on it.

  ‘He’s hurt me, he’s hurt me!’

  These two fought as badly as Madame Jilly’s twins but in a much more vicious unkind way. There didn’t appear to be any love between them.

  ‘You two are getting on my nerve!’

  Tom made a rude face. ‘It’s nerves, silly, cos there are lots of them.’

  Marie-France gave him a stern look. This one, if she wasn’t mistaken, would try and get away with everything, including lack of respect. ‘That’s what I say. I am thinking it is time for you to retire to bed now and read a story.’

  ‘Read?’ Tatty Arna’s voice rose to a high shriek. ‘It’s the holidays! We don’t have to read now we’re not at school. We’re allowed to watch television instead for as long as we want!’

  As she spoke, the little girl picked up a remote control from the side of her bed and aimed it at the wall opposite. There was a click and part of the wall slid open to reveal a giant screen. Wow!

  ‘I’ve got a bigger one in my room,’ yelled Tom, jumping up and down.

  Spoilt little brats. Still, there were only so many changes she could make on her first day. Besides, it was nearly time for the party! ‘OK. Then watch it while I get ready for dinner.’

  Au pairs will be invited to eat meals with the family, the agency guidelines had said. Quickly, Marie-France ran along to her own room and slipped into a simple silk shift dress which her mother had bought for her in the sale at her dress shop. The colour – a striking cerise – looked good against her dark hair, or at least so Thierry had told her before taking it off in the woods on her last night
. The thought made her chest wobble a bit but then she heard voices downstairs. How exciting! The guests were arriving. Marie-France felt a tingle of pleasure both at the compliments which would surely come her way from the food and also – more importantly – at the possibility that one of the guests might help her in her quest.

  ‘Talk to as many people as you can,’ Thierry had suggested when they’d discussed ways of tracking down her father. ‘There must be someone there who knows where he is.’ Maybe in a small town, but Corrywood was so much bigger than she had imagined!

  Marie-France had just got to the bottom of the staircase when she spotted Madame Dawn who was wearing a very short skirt in a similar colour to her own. She looked up at Marie-France. ‘Is there a problem?’

  ‘No. I complete my work so I descend now.’

  ‘Descend?’ Madame Dawn looked bemused. ‘But we have guests tonight. You’ll need to stay in your room, I’m afraid, in case the kids wake up. You can help yourself to something from the kitchen and take it back up with you.’

  ‘But the agency, she say that au pairs should eat meals with the family!’

  ‘Not dinner parties,’ Dawn snapped back. ‘Use your head.’

  Use her head? How very rude! Dumbstruck, Marie-France watched Dawn march off to greet guests at the door, wearing a ‘polite face’.

  ‘I’m so glad you could come. Guess what? I’ve made your favourite. Pear tart. It’s a new recipe. And I’ve got a really neat starter too. Of course it’s home-made.’ She laughed gaily. ‘It’s a brand-new recipe!’

  But that was her pear tart!

  For a minute or two, Marie-France eyeballed her employer from the back, anger rising in her chest. Then clicking her heels on the ground to make her point, she wove her way through the guests towards the kitchen. Leaning against the fridge was a tall, handsome man with an aquiline nose and a darkish complexion. He was wearing a pink-striped shirt in formal contrast to his pale blue jeans and he was opening a bottle of white wine. He looked up expectantly.

  ‘Hi! You must be Marie-France. The new au pair. Good to meet you. I’m Phillip, Dawn’s husband. I hope you’re making yourself at home here.’

  What a lovely friendly smile! So much nicer than his wife! Marie-France glanced at the pear tart and the soufflé on the side and wondered whether to tell him the truth. Maybe later when she’d established a better relationship with him.

  ‘Yes, thank you. Your wife, she instructs me to take my food upstairs to my room.’

  ‘Did she now?’ He frowned. ‘Sounds a bit like Cinderella to me but then again, who am I to contradict Dawn?’ He laughed and took a swig straight out of the wine bottle. ‘Would you like a glass? From another bottle, of course?’

  She nodded gratefully. ‘Merci.’

  ‘Now let’s see what we’ve got to go with it. Cheese? Pâté? Fruit?’ He handed her a plate, brushing her hand accidentally as he did so. ‘Anything else?’

  She nodded, wondering if it was too soon to ask. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained, as her English teacher used to say at school. ‘Just one small thing, if that is possible.’

  A few minutes later, Marie-France was sitting happily on her bed listening to the sound of laughter through the window from the terrace outside. Her cheese – tasteless compared with the fromage at home – and the glass of too-sharp wine lay untouched by the side of her bed. The children were quiet, which meant they were still watching TV or had fallen asleep. That gave her a chance to do what she really wanted. To look through the local telephone directory that Phillip had lent her.

  Mon Dieu! There were so many Smiths! Marie-France’s eye ran down the page in mounting concern. Still, she could make a start. After all, she had the name. She had the dates. All she had to do was ring each one and politely enquire whether they had lived in Corrywood at the same time as her mother.

  Easy!

  USEFUL BRITISH IDIOMS FOR AU PAIRS

  In hot water (In trouble)

  In the dog house (As above)

  Two ticks (In a short time)

  In a jiffy (As above)

  You’ve lost your marbles (You’re crazy)

  Sugar daddy (Older man with money)

  Chapter 6

  MATTHEW WATCHED SOZZY’S short, defiant figure march off down the street with her grey rucksack studded with safety pins slung over her shoulder. ‘Wait,’ he called out, ‘please wait!’

  But she didn’t even look back. If it wasn’t for Lottie, he’d have given chase, but he didn’t like to leave her alone in the house. That look on his daughter’s face when he’d introduced them hadn’t just been dislike. It had been fear! He couldn’t impose a stranger on her, yet at the same time, he needed to go back to work – and sooner rather than later if he was to keep his job.

  Now what was he going to do? Walking back to the house, he noticed the nosy neighbour’s curtains twitching. She probably thought he’d had some kind of lover’s tiff!

  ‘Lottie,’ he began as he went back into the house, ‘that was a very naughty thing to do, messing up Sozzy’s bedroom and leaving such an unkind note.’ There was no answer. His heart began to quicken. Dear God, don’t say she had run off too? ‘Lottie?’ he tried again.

  ‘In the kitchen, Daddy!’ she called out gaily in a voice that suggested nothing had happened. ‘I’m making you a cup of tea and I’ve opened a tin of alphabet spaghetti.’

  She put her head round the door, smiling winsomely up at him, her plaits flopping over her shoulder. ‘I’m getting your dinner ready, just like Mummy used to.’ Then she flew towards him, burying her face in his stomach. ‘We don’t need anyone else to look after us, Daddy. I can do it. You’ll see!’

  His heart contracted in a mixture of pain and pride. Were all eight-year-olds mature one minute and childish the next, depending on how they wanted to play it? Christina had warned her about this. There was a name for it apparently, when children tried to look after the bereaved parent to make up for the absent one. There was a danger, too, of the parent accepting this help out of loneliness or sheer misery. Before long, the two became mutually exclusive and over-reliant on the other.

  ‘It isn’t really fair,’ Christina had said in that cool, calming office of hers with pale green curtains that fluttered in the breeze, ‘because it doesn’t give either of you the chance to make independent relationships in the future.’

  As her words came back to him, Matthew knew he had to stand firm.

  ‘Lottie.’ He sank down to her height, holding her hands so she had to stand a little further away from him and looking into her eyes. ‘I understand that you weren’t very keen on Sozzy.’ He hesitated. ‘She wasn’t exactly what I had expected either. But Daddy has to …’ He stopped again, reminding himself that he must stop referring to himself in the third person. He’d fallen into the habit when Sally was ill and he’d been trying to comfort his little girl. But she wasn’t that any more. She was growing up and if he didn’t start to treat her like an eight-year-old, she wouldn’t act like one. ‘I mean I’ve got to go back to work soon and I need someone to look after you now the summer holidays have started and also later in the autumn when the new term starts. So I’m going to ring the agency and see if they can find someone else.’

  ‘But, Daddy …’

  ‘I’m sorry, princess. But we’ve got to be practical. However, you can do me a big favour.’

  Her eyes – so like Sally’s – were fixed on him warily.

  ‘You can make me that lovely cup of tea you promised. Just be careful you don’t burn yourself.’

  She nodded. ‘I won’t, Daddy. I won’t.’

  He rang the agency as soon as she was out of earshot, explaining exactly what had happened. Janine, at the other end, was surprisingly understanding and Matthew wondered if this sort of thing had happened before.

  ‘Sometimes,’ she said, ‘we do get the odd girl who just uses the job as an excuse to get into the country and then disappears. It’s unfortunate.’

  Unfort
unate? ‘It’s really left me in the lurch!’

  ‘I am sorry for that, Mr Evans, but your daughter’s behaviour was not exactly welcoming, was it? From what you tell me, it was a contributing factor to Sozzy’s departure. I’m not very happy about the fact that a twenty-two-year-old has just disappeared. We will have to inform her family and possibly the police if she doesn’t turn up soon.’ Her voice had a worried edge to it. ‘They usually do surface within a day or so in my experience.’

  But what if she didn’t? He hadn’t thought of that. Suddenly the idea of his own daughter disappearing into the bowels of Bulgaria made him sweat with fear.

  ‘However, you are in luck,’ continued Janine brightly. ‘We happen to have a Swiss-German girl in this country who is looking for a job. She was with another family in Dulwich but there was, shall we say, a clash of personalities.’

  That didn’t sound hopeful. ‘Haven’t we had one of those already?’

  ‘Mr Evans.’ The voice grew severe. ‘All au pairs are different personalities just like you and me. It would be unrealistic to expect everyone in the world to get on with each other, don’t you think? My job is to find the right match between au pairs and families.’ There was a short almost flirtatious laugh. ‘Rather like finding the right partner in life.’

  Matthew thought of Sally and how he had thought that she was the perfect woman for him as soon as he had caught sight of her, coolly making her way through a crowded wine bar all those years ago.

  ‘The good thing about Berenice is that because she’s already in the UK, her paperwork is all up to date. So she could start immediately. I can send her over tomorrow for an interview if you like.’

  Fair enough. ‘Does she speak good English?’

  ‘Excellent. She also comes from a very nice family.’ Janine sounded as though he ought to be grateful for that. ‘I believe her father works in the diplomatic world. Shall we say three o’clock then?’

  Matthew had had quite a strong word with Lottie beforehand about the need to give Berenice a fair chance. ‘Shall we buy her a cake?’ he suggested.