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It’s a gorgeous day so we left early this morning and walked to school. There’s a car I can use whenever I want, but it’s a shame to drive on a day like this and it’s not far on foot. Also, I wanted the fresh air and headspace to try and calm my whirling thoughts. I’m finding it difficult to sleep and am restless and overtired.
There’s no rush, so I meander back, admiring the Georgian buildings along the way. I love living in Richmond and after spending a day in the centre of London with Juliette, I appreciate it even more. It’s like being in a little cocoon with all the amenities of city life whilst surrounded by the peaceful beauty of the countryside. At the brow of the hill, I pause and catch sight of the shimmering Thames in the valley below.
There’s no point in keeping on beating myself up about what happened. Sebastian is always the perfect gentleman, so I don’t really think I have anything to fear from him. He’s not going to tell anyone and if he does it will reflect just as badly on him. Not that I think he will, anyway.
It’s my own feelings I fear the most and I’ve got myself riled up into a terrible state.
It’s unusual for us to be alone in the house because Mrs Johnson stays late to clear up and prepare for the next morning. I think she lives by herself and enjoys our company.
My thoughts veer back to that night when it was just him and me.
I waited in the kitchen for a few minutes to see if he would come back down after checking on Daisy, but when he didn’t, I panicked. I was desperate for more of him and would have resumed right where we left off, if he’d come back then. But as the minutes ticked by, the reality of what we had done, hit me and I was filled with doubt.
What if I lose my job? Even worse, what if I can’t get another one because they exclude me for unprofessional behaviour?
What if he regrets it and doesn’t come back down tonight? I’ll be waiting here like a fool, and I’ll never get over the shame of it.
Heart beating like a manic drum, and the blood pounding in my head, I ran for the stairs. I didn’t stop running until I reached the top floor and the safety of my suite. Then I sank onto the bed and tried to calm myself down. My breathing was shallow, and I couldn’t think straight. Any minute, I expected a tap at the door from Sebastian.
I wanted him to come and find me, but a conflicting part of me was terrified by the prospect. If he came to my room, it would become real. We wouldn’t be able to classify it as a wild moment when we forgot ourselves. If he came to my room and I let him in, there wasn’t a flicker of doubt in my mind that we would make love.
I know desire when I see it and he desired me. My resolve was weak from craving him for so long, so if he came in, I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist him. In fact, I was desperate to feel him against me again—to feel him inside me.
A harsh voice in my head, reminded me that I’m just an employee and this is a dangerous situation. I crossed the red flag danger line and was about to be swept into treacherous waters if we slept together.
It would become a thing.
It would be unbearable. And so, I didn’t make any noise, and I didn’t open my door. I resisted the primal urge to go back downstairs in search of him and seek his lips with mine. I resisted the pull of the memory of his confident hands touching my body and making me moan for more.
The voice in my head whispered, ‘He doesn’t want you for more than a bit of fun. How could he? You’re just the nanny. His family would be appalled and forbid him from having a proper relationship with you, even if he wanted to.’
I heard a movement and footsteps on the stairs.
The erratic beat of my heart increased again as I sat there not knowing whether to pray for him to come up or pray for him to leave me alone.
The sound of the footsteps grew distant until the noise faded, and I guessed he went downstairs. Did he wish I had waited for him, or was he relieved I had gone to my suite?
In a robotic stupor I took off my makeup and cleaned my teeth, before pulling back the duvet and sinking into bed. I pulled the cover over my head to try and block out reality, but it didn’t. I lay there for hours thinking of him and yearning for him. His bedroom is only one floor below mine and I could easily go and find him. The thrill of the temptation was overwhelming. I could knock at the door and talk to him about what happened. I could go to him and see if he wanted me as much as I wanted him.
But I didn’t. My limbs froze and I lay there for hours replaying how he kissed me and made me cry out for him, like the rerun of an old movie.
I enter the house, and for just a second, I imagine what it would be like if this was my real home. What would it be like to be Sebastian’s wife? My heart stirs at the feelings it evokes deep within me. Daisy would be my stepdaughter. I think she’d be happy about it because we spend so much time together and get on well. Since I’ve been here, her mother has barely seen her. Daisy goes to her place for the occasional weekend but that’s about it.
Her mother often cancels at the last minute, and it makes me so sad for Daisy. I try not to let it get to me because it’s none of my business. But I know it bothers Sebastian too. His blue-grey eyes usually sparkle with good humour, but last time she called to say she couldn’t make it, they darkened, and he cursed.
The first couple of times she cancelled, he didn’t display any emotion, and I thought he took it remarkably well. It’s not like he had plans and couldn’t go because of her letting him down. He has me here and I’m always available when needed, so even if he did, he could have gone anyway.
But when it happened last time, his carefully constructed, always-happy mask slipped, and briefly I saw how upset he was. He left the room and when he returned; he confided in me that his ex-wife does this repeatedly, and whilst he’s happy to have Daisy all the time, he worries about the long-term effect it will have on her. He said he thinks she needs her mother, at least occasionally, and he asked for my professional opinion. The pain on his face stabbed at my emotions, and I chose my reply carefully.
I said that of course it’s ideal if a child gets lots of time and attention from both parents. But there are plenty of well-balanced kids who thrive in the care of one loving parent. He exhaled and smiled at me, before briefly touching my hand.
‘Thank you,’ he said.
I could feel the sincerity in his words, and my heart danced.
‘What for?’ I said, and my voice sounded more business-like than I intended.
‘For being so caring and diligent in your duties. Daisy has flourished since you’ve been with us. Now her mother seems to have become even more unreliable, and I want you to know how much we appreciate you.’
