‘Yes, that’s right, we were teachers at the same school until a year or so ago. I can send you references and my DBS. I can cook a bit as well—’
Bunny interrupted me with a shriek of joy.
‘Splendid! Yes, send all that and then can you come on Monday 13th December? Everyone breaks up on the Friday, so we’ll travel down over the weekend sometime.’
‘Sorry, travel down?’
‘Yes, didn’t Joanne mention it? I suppose she didn’t know, come to think of it. Anyway, we spend Christmas with my husband’s brother down in Dorset, that’s why we need the help. He’s a frightful bore, won’t leave his bloody studio to come to London, so he invites everyone down, then gets cross when we make a noise.’
I felt slightly faint.
‘Everyone? Joanne just said about the twins. They’re four years old, aren’t they?’
‘That’s right, although it feels like they’ve been around forever. In agoodway, of course. And half the family rolls up usually. I’m not sure who it is this year, but there’ll be simply piles of us and of course William – Ben and Lando’s father – lives there too. Don’t worry, you’ll have your own room and bathroom, and you won’t have to deal with any of them. Oh, do say you’ll come, please!’
We spent a few minutes discussing exactly what the job would entail – mainly childcare, as I had expected, with ad hoc ‘helping me with other bits and pieces when I’m absolutelyfrantic’ as Bunny put it – and the pay, which seemed generous, especially considering I would also get full bed and board. Despite these rather good terms, between the hundreds of relatives, the wild-sounding twins, and the tyrannical brother-in-law, it didn’t sound like a remotely sensible situation to walk into over Christmas.
‘Yes, of course I’ll come. Let me know the address, and if you’re happy with my references and so on, I’ll come down on the 13th.’
‘Oh, thank you, thank you. Oh! What’s your name?’
I hesitated. The children at school call me Miss Windlesham, but that clearly wasn’t going to be the scene in Bunny’s family.
‘Well, my name is Penelope, but everyone calls me Penny.’
‘Lovely! See you on the 13th then, Penny.’
With a touch of Maria von Trapp about me, I hummed ‘I Have Confidence’ as I stepped up to the door and lifted the heavy knocker. The resulting bang could be heard reverberating through the hall beyond, but there was no answering patter of feet, and the door remained firmly shut. I knocked again, but still no one appeared. Then a scrabbling sound on the gravel made me turn; running towards me grinning and with lolling tongues, their breath puffing clouds into the cold air, were two dogs. One, a small smooth-haired dachshund with an absurdly friendly face and the other a larger dog of indeterminate breed, which skidded to a halt next to me and immediately shoved its cold, wet nose into my hand. I crouched down and stroked the dogs, who responded as ecstatically as if they had won the doggy lottery. I was encouraged by this display of approval.
‘Hello lovely dogs, what are your names then?’ No answer was forthcoming. ‘Ah, tags, let me have a look.’ I checked the dachshund first. ‘Garbo, that’s a great name! And how about you?’ I ruffled the bigger dog’s fur as I read its name: Hepburn. ‘And is your master or mistress around anywhere?’ Again, the dogs offered no response other than to roll over and nudge my hands insistently, oblivious to anything other than their own pleasure. Quite right, but I really felt I should find someone and announce myself, so I fussed over them for a few more minutes, then stood up.
‘Come on, you two, maybe you can help me?’
They bounded off around the side of the house and out of sight, so I decided I might as well follow. Leaving my bags at the side of the door, I crunched off over the gravel, resisting the urge to peep in through the stone-mullioned windows with their tiny diamond-shaped panes of glass. When I turned the corner, I was met with a glorious view, even in the fading daylight: huge lawned gardens dotted with gnarled trees, currently without any leaves, spread in front of me. To my left, there was a walled garden with its gate open. Telling myself I might find someone there, but really just consumed with curiosity, I went over and peered through. Within the walls were more lawns, paths and artfully arranged box trees, all leading to an oval swimming pool, covered now of course but nonetheless impressive. Sadly, this place, too, was deserted, so I turned and noticed, across the lawn, a red brick outbuilding with steam pouring from the boiler outlet. This was more promising, and I hoped I would find Bunny there, although I did feel some trepidation. After all, I had come all the way to Dorset, to the house of complete strangers, and now the place appeared deserted with no one even to open the door, let alone welcome me. I hoped I hadn’t made a huge mistake: what had felt like a daring adventure could easily turn out to be a foolhardy flop. I pulled out my phone to comfort myself with a timetable of trains back to London, just so that I knew I could turn tail if I needed to, but there was no reception. I put it back in my pocket with a sigh. There was nothing for it but to square my shoulders and keep going, although my earlier feelings of confidence were rapidly ebbing away.
I trotted across the cold grass, my shoes leaving prints in its pristine frosting, and pushed open the door of the little building. It opened into a single, large room, lined with shelves which groaned under their burden of lumps of wood, books and a cornucopia of tools. There was more wood everywhere you looked: stumps, planks and what appeared to be half a tree, which stood next to an unmade double bed and had a mug balanced on top of it. The floor was liberally sprinkled with shavings, and I could see the motes of dust floating around in the pale sunlight that streamed in through the enormous windows which had all but replaced the wall at the far end of the building. A wide workbench stood in front of the windows, and I could see carved figures in various stages of completion. There was a comforting smell of freshly cut timber, and the room was warm and cosy. I was beginning to entertain thoughts of a gentle, Geppetto-like fellow living and working here, at one with his craft, when a door I hadn’t noticed at the far end of the room flung open and a man appeared. Geppetto he wasn’t. Tall and extremely good-looking, with ruffled dark hair, he stopped dead when he saw me, and glared.
‘Who are you?’
‘Hi, I’m Penny. I’m Bunny’s mother’s help?’
I stumbled forward, trying not to skid on the wood shavings, and offered my hand. He took it briefly in his, which felt dusty and was covered in scars and marks old and new; from the wood carving tools, I supposed.
‘Oh yes, she said she was expecting you. Well, where on earth is she?’
I wasn’t sure if he was expecting an answer, but just then the door was pushed open and in bounded the dogs.
‘Garbo! Hepburn! Good to see you again.’ I crouched down, thankful for this distraction, and scratched and patted their delighted, wriggling bodies.
‘How do you know my dogs’ names?’
I looked up, up the long, jeaned legs and slim torso in its worn work shirt until my eyes reached that gorgeous face, which seemed fractionally less annoyed than before.
‘Oh, they have tags, and, well…they’re the only ones who have greeted me so far. They’re lovely dogs. But I did want to ask – Audrey or Katharine?’
A flicker of confusion touched his face before being replaced by a microscopic upturn of the lips.
‘Katharine. No contest.’
