A long single-story wing stretched from one side of the house, angled backward, its sharper corners hinting at more recent origins. From the far end of this wing a high wall curved to join a stable block that stood at right angles to the main house, fronting onto the oval of gravel. Three of the four stable doorways were fitted with wooden garage doors.
I forgot my anxiety as I stood by the taxi and absorbed the view, and my smile must have revealed my genuine delight to the small, dark-haired woman who emerged from the front door.
“Mrs. Mayes?” I asked.
“Call me Ruth,” she said, and paid the taxi driver without fuss. She had an unhurried manner about her—friendly, but as if part of her attention was elsewhere. A little boy had followed her out and peered at me from behind her legs as the taxi purred away down the lane. This child was the reason I had traveled all this way, and I crouched on the gravel in front of him.
“Hello. I’m Laura. Are you Edwin?”
He nodded. “Did you come on the train?”
“I did.” I tugged my handbag open and rummaged through the contents. “Look—here’s my ticket. Would you like it?”
I wasn’t particularly used to young children, and I’d never seen anyone’s mood change so quickly. He snatched the ticket and whirled around, whooping, waving it in the air, before catching Ruth’s eyes and pausing to say, “Thank you.” Then he launched into a garbled story about a train journey he had taken with his granny—what the guard had said, how fast they’d traveled, what all the different carriages had been for.
Ruth smiled at me over his head. “Let’s show you around.” She indicated the single-story extension as we approached thefront door of the house. “That’s the day nursery, there, and the annex at the end of it. We’ll start in there.”
She led me from the hall, through the kitchen and utility room, into the vast, light-filled day nursery that made up the majority of the extension. A row of floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over a wide lawn that ended in trees in the distance. I tore my gaze from the scene and hurried to catch up with Ruth and Edwin as they paused at the door at the far end of the room.
“The annex,” Ruth said, pushing the door open and gesturing me in first. “Did the agency explain the hours? We just want some part-time childcare. We’re quite flexible. The other girl I interviewed thought we were too far out in the middle of nowhere.” She sighed. “We’ve never had an au pair before.”
I looked around at the high ceilings, the white walls, the generous windows.
“I’ve never been an au pair before,” I said, and then gritted my teeth as I realized this reply was hardly reassuring. Ruth didn’t appear to notice.
Edwin slipped his hand into mine. “I’ll show you everything, Missus Laura Silvey. There’s a bed in the bedroom, and there was aginormousspider in the bathroom, but it’s gone to live in the woods now.”
The furniture was heavy looking and old, but the rooms were bright and spotlessly clean, and I was glad of Edwin’s nonstop chatter as he showed me around. I was primed and ready to answer questions about my limited childcare experience, but I struggled for the right reaction to this casual tour.
“It’s all so—beautiful,” I said.
Ruth indicated the cooktop and fridge in the corner of the sitting room. “The kitchen in the main house will always be available. We’re happy for the au pair to eat with us, or not—whichever they fancy.”
We retraced our steps and this time paused in the day nursery long enough for me to take in its contents. Bookcases bulged with games and toys, and there was a large table covered in art equipment, along with two battered sofas and a television and video recorder.
“He does like to play outside as much as possible,” Ruth said. “But this room’s handy for when you want a quiet hour or two.”
The whole ground floor of Mum’s house would have fitted inside it.
We rejoined the main part of the house through a utility room that opened into the kitchen. Edwin’s artwork covered a corkboard on one wall, and paintbrushes mingled with cutlery on the drainer. Double glass doors opened onto a patio, and I followed Ruth outside, squinting through a dazzle of whirling lawn sprinklers to spot some wooden play equipment in the far corner where the perfectly trimmed grass met the trees.
“We’ve had a difficult couple of years,” Ruth said as Edwin ran ahead to reach his climbing frame. “I’m looking for someone to keep him company and play with him when I can’t. Most mornings and some afternoons, but I’m quite flexible. No evenings or weekends unless mutually agreed and for extra pay.”
“It sounds great,” I said. “It doesn’t sound like work, to be honest.”
“Wait ’til he’s telling you the train story for the thirtieth time.” She gave me a quick smile. “But no. He’s just full of energy. He needs to be outside climbing and running, but I need to know he’s safe.”
We stopped by the play equipment, and watched Edwin launch himself along the monkey bars.
“It’s just for a year,” she said. “He starts school next September.”
“Well, I’ll retake my exams next May, and then I’ll be free until I start university.” I tapped a strut of the climbing frame. “Touch wood.”
“And you have some experience of working with children?”
I hesitated. “A little. I’ve done a fair bit of babysitting for my neighbors. I like children.” I waited for her to frown, to exclaim that this wasn’t enough, but she was gazing at Edwin as if her mind had already moved on.
“Watch me, Laura Silvey!” Edwin shouted, lining up to shoot down the slide headfirst on his back. He had a false start, so I went over to help him.
