I awoke with a renewed sense of purpose. I had a job to do. I was going to do it to the best of my ability. As stipulated by his mother in the memorandum of his care, I primped Zackary to perfection. One day soon I was going to stop this nonsense and teach him to dress himself. It was ridiculous that a child his age couldn’t dress himself.

His little socks matching his tie and his blond hair combed back neatly, we went to breakfast. I watched as he solemnly ate up Tuesday’s breakfast (scrambled eggs and homemade sausages), and was quite struck at the lack of resemblance between him and his father.

He was wearing a ridiculous stark white dress shirt which I couldn’t help but secretly hope he would ruin by the end of the day, and a pair of dark slacks that I was sure had had more care given to its tailoring and fit than even my most precious outfit.

He looked stiff and uncomfortable, even as he ate, his gaze restlessly moving and watching the transfer of food between his plate and lips. Poor kid was on lookout for stains on his clothes.

Before I could stop myself, I reached out and ruffled his hair. He looked up at me, surprised and questioning. I grinned at him. He didn’t return the grin. Placing his fork down, he smoothed his stubby fingers through his hair and sleeked it all back in place. Then he reached for the napkin on his lap, wiped his hands, and continued with his meal without ceremony.

I caught Mrs. Blackmore’s gaze and she shrugged and gave me a glum look.

“Zackary, we’ll be going out to play today,” I said to him. “Are you excited? I think you’ll have an amazing time.”

“I’m not allowed to play outside,” he responded.

“But we played outside yesterday. Didn’t you enjoy it?”

“It upset Mummy.” He shook his head before lifting his glass of freshly squeezed organic orange juice for a sip. “I don’t want to anymore. I’ll get dirty and there are creepy crawlies in the grass.”

“Mummy said you could,” I quickly clarified before he ruined such a prospective day for me. “She visited my room last night and said I could take you out for a little while.”

The way he watched me was too controlled for a five-year old. “She did?”

“Yes, Master Zackary.” I whipped out the most matron-ish voice I had. “She absolutely did. And as for creepy-crawlies. Do you know what I used to do to them when I was your age?”

“What?” he asked, big eyed.

“We used to catch them in matchboxes and feed them to my pet bird.”

“What kind of bird was it?” he asked, intrigued in spite of himself.

“A baby sparrow. It had fallen out of its nest and my friend and I rescued it.”

“Where is it now?”

Of course, it was dead. Nearly twenty years had passed since I fed Billy Face with worms and insects I had caught. “I don’t know. One day when it had grown bigger and stronger it flew away.”

“Do you think we might find a baby sparrow too?” he asked hopefully.

I smiled. “Maybe, but we have to be out and about to do that.”

“Okay.” He smiled shyly back at me and I felt a surge of happiness. What a beautiful, but careful soul he was. My goal from then on became to unwind him as much as I could before my time as his nanny came to an end. I knew without doubt that I had very little time left too.

He returned his attention to his meal, while I discreetly pulled away a blade of his hair to lessen the polish that I had taken such pain to attend to earlier in the morning.

“Where do you plan on taking him?” Mrs. Blackmore asked me.

“Today we’ll spend it in the grounds,” I replied. “Maybe next time we will visit the park again.”

“The grounds are empty,” she reminded me. “Are you both just going to play with the grass?”

I grinned at her snappy question. “No. I’ll run out to the store for some makeshift supplies until he gets his proper playground installed.”

“Oh, he’s getting a playground, is he?”

“That’s what his dad said.” I turned to look at Zackary, but once again he had lost interest and was concentrating on eating without soiling his clothes.

“Are you taking the little one with you?” Mrs. Blackmore asked.

“Of course. He can help me choose the stuff he wants.”

“That’s a good idea, love. He’s never been to one before. There’s a big new American style store a few minutes away.”

“Yes, I know. I googled it this morning.”

In half-an-hour we were in Bright Buy. I chose a huge cart despite not needing much so that he could ride in it, but when I asked if he wanted to ride inside he had looked at me as though I were out of my mind. When I glanced behind I met the carefully blank look from the suit and tie bodyguard/chauffer Henry.

I shrugged. You couldn’t say I didn’t try.

On my way to the crafts aisle I passed by the toys area to see what he would be drawn to, but he just walked passed everything with a look of great disdain. As if toys were beneath him.

As we made our way through the aisles we came across other kids sitting amongst produce in the carts and being pushed around by their parents, and one little girl who was writhing in tears on the floor obviously to protest her mother’s behavior. That was the good and bad of child behavior, but the child beside me watched them as though they were all nothing but uncivilized lesser mortals.

Our roles almost switched when we arrived at the arts and crafts aisle. I found quite a few things that I wanted to check out and Zackary kept up his disinterested attitude. I didn’t let it bother me. As I picked this and that, I could see his interest slowly peaking. When I put two bundles of string into the cart, he could no longer hold his curiosity.

“What are you going to make, Miss Conrad?”

“Not me. We are making a kite,” I said.