He thought of his daughter now and sealed shut that door, because it opened onto memories he had conditioned himself not to revive.
Evalina had told him that she had ‘just the lady’ for him. Very nice, she had said, very reliable, someone she had met at her allotment. More importantly, she had confided, Annalise had met her a couple of weeks ago when they had been there on the weekend.
‘Three Saturdays ago, when you were out with that dark-haired woman with the make-up and thetette grandi,’ she had expanded, while Niccolo had absently recalled the big-breasted woman in question. Their early trip to the theatre had been followed by the expensive meal and relief when he had left with merely a peck on the cheek because somehow the thought of going where the evening should have taken them could not have been less appealing.
Now that his aunt had disappeared, he was relieved that she had not managed to leave him in quite the lurch he had feared. The lady’s being a trusted friend from her allotment, and furthermore one his daughter had met, went some way to compensating, presumably, for a lack of formal qualifications.
He trusted his aunt’s judgement implicitly. She had fortuitously slotted into his household when her wandering feet had started protesting at the constant travel five years ago, just when he had needed someone. Left with an infant following the premature death of his wife, Evalina had moved in and taken charge, relishing the joys of helping to raise Annalise, which had filled the void of never having had a child of her own.
He had been immeasurably grateful.
His life had been lived in the fast lane from the very moment he had married and he’d realised within six months that it had been a mistake. No time to press a rewind button and no pause to draw breath and take stock. Marriage...fatherhood...divorce rushed towards him in the space of two and a half years—a time of anguish, guilt and regret, the only shining light his daughter. And then, a mere eight months after his divorce, Caroline had died behind the wheel of her Porsche, which she had been driving, he had been informed at the inquest, far too fast and with far too much booze in her system. She hadn’t stood a chance when she had lost control in torrential rain.
So, yes, he had been immeasurably grateful to his aunt for being there. Right time, right place and a rock in stormy waters.
So this lady she had recommended? It would work.
His aunt was in her sixties and he presumed that her friend would be of similar age and thus not constrained by a daily commute to work or the trials and tribulations of a young family. Doubtless, the enormous pay cheque to cover the four weeks his aunt would be away would also ease matters somewhat.
With that in mind, he checked his watch and ordered another drink, barely glancing in the direction of the neatly uniformed waiter who sprinted towards him to take the order.
In this elegant five-star wine bar and with his daughter spending the night at the house of one of her friends, he would interview the Baxter woman, explain what would be expected of her and make sure she knew that the bulk of her pay cheque would be safely deposited into her bank account just as soon as her satisfactory interview with him was completed.
He was wholly assured that whoever his aunt recommended would be more than adequate. Evalina adored Annalise and would never suggest anyone she didn’t have absolute faith in. But still...
When it came to hard cash, it paid to never take chances. His aunt’s allotment pal might be as cosy as a patchwork quilt and as wholesome as apple pie, but he still intended to lay down the law and make sure the woman knew that, friendship or no friendship, he would be keeping a firm eye on her and slip-ups would not be tolerated. When it came to his daughter, normal rules of engagement definitely did not apply.
He glanced at his watch again and frowned.
She had approximately five minutes to make it to the wine bar and be positioned opposite him at the table he had reserved. Unreliability before day one had even begun was not going to impress.
He anticipated being back in time to cover a couple of hours of correspondence before he hit the sack at his usual post-work time of a little after midnight, and with another glance at his Rolex he settled in front of his phone and began scrolling through his emails.
Sophie Baxter made it to the wine bar with only seconds to spare and at speed.
Yet another protracted call to the bank, followed by one from the estate agent asking about party wall agreement documents, which had thrown her for six because she hadn’t had much of a clue where to begin hunting those down...
She had already spent so long dealing with all the chaos and despair of life after her parents had died, and yet here she was now because suddenly, in the space of just a couple of days, life had gone flying off in a direction she could never have anticipated.
Lovely Evalina, her neighbour at the allotment she had managed to land seven months ago through a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend, had contacted her with a surprising offer that could not have arrived at a more fortuitous moment.
A month in a house nannying her nephew’s six-year-old daughter, Annalise, whom Sophie had met only a fortnight or so ago and thoroughly liked.
‘I know it’s probably very last-minute, my dear, but the pay will be excellent...’
She had asked about an interview—surely she wouldn’t be hired sight unseen? Her experience when it came to nannying, she had worriedly pointed out, was negligible. A few months with a family in France, where she had learnt a bit of French and had had a lovely time looking after their two young kids. It had been something of a gap year, but she had no formal qualifications...
But Evalina had vaguely waved away the suggestion. Speed was of the essence, she said, and her recommendation would carry sufficient weight with Niccolo—that and the fact that Sophie had met his daughter and they got along. There was no time for anything to be arranged, she had elaborated, because she had to leave the country immediately to help her sister and brother-in-law. There had been an accident—lots of broken bits and pieces, she had hinted darkly, without going into detail. Probably, Sophie concluded, because she found it too painful, something with which she could more than sympathise.
Sophie was guiltily aware that she had veered away from asking too many questions because the money had appealed, along with the fact that having somewhere to live for a month would tide her over until the stuff with the house had been sorted. It had felt like a reprieve and, after a year of horror and sadness and pain, a reprieve had been too good to pass up.
So now here she was, having an interview for a job she had already been offered, meeting an employer with only a description to go on:‘A very nice, very dutiful father, who works all hours to keep a roof over their heads. The poor, poor man lost his wife some years ago. That is why it is so important that he has faith in the person looking after his beloved daughter.’
Tragic, Sophie had thought. Evalina’s words had brought home to her all those memories of the accident that had taken both her parents in one fell swoop. A rainy night, a truck travelling too fast in the opposite direction...and suddenly lives ended far too soon. Sophie felt her life had ended there too, a little over a year ago, and so it had, in a way, because everything that had followed on could never be calleda life. She had lurched her way through an unfolding horror story of pain as, bit by bit, her life unravelled in slow motion and the foundations underneath her that had always felt so secure crumbled away. She had had to deal with woes that she knew her parents had kept from her, financial problems that must have been slowly eating away at them for years. They had sheltered her from finding out the extent of their debts, all undertaken to put her through private school, all targeted to giving her the best possible head start in life. And then, with everything collapsing around her like a house of cards, she had made the biggest mistake of her life and sought comfort from the wrong guy.
Just thinking about it made her shudder.
So, whilst nerves had kicked in now as she paused in front of the chi-chi wine bar in Mayfair, it was a relief after months of numbing despair, with each day promising to deliver nothing new, just more of the same—debts to be paid, bills she hadn’t known existed to be settled, and a future so unsteady that she couldn’t bring herself to examine it in detail.
