Jenna

 

Two days later I’m back in London, applying for jobs, as if I’ve never been away. Out of a job and out of a relationship. It hits me hard, because I know how special things were with me and Elliott. And because I know neither of us wanted it to end.

But I have to forget all that. Thinking about it will make my mascara run, and I’m going around to the agency I used to get the job with Elliott to see if they have anything for me. I may as well try there first, as I’m already on their books.

Thank goodness Katie never got a new roommate. I could never afford to pay rent in London otherwise. Katie is so lucky her parents bought her a little two-bedroom place in Camden. But her luck is my luck, too. Jobs are plentiful in London, but nanny and daycare salaries are no match for usual London prices.

The receptionist at the agency shows me into the little office in Kensington. But it turns out Madeleine, who interviewed me for the job in Palma, is reluctant to offer me another position. “You lasted so little time with that one. What was wrong with your employer, exactly? We can’t get him on the phone to verify he was happy with your services. Our nannies are la crème de la crème. We don’t take just anyone, you know.”

I try to explain.

“His daughter’s mother came back. She wanted to take her daughter away and employ her own nanny.”

Madeleine looks over the top of her spectacles at me. “It wouldn’t be anything to do with that picture in the Clarion?”

I blush. I didn’t think they would have seen that at the agency. I can’t imagine Madeleine with all her hoity-toity airs buying that newspaper.

“Perhaps you had better lie low for a while,” she says. “Take a job caring for older people who won’t remember you.”

“I don’t think people will remember me from the newspaper, and it wasn’t my fault.”

Madeleine sniffs. “No, it never is.”

I leave, my tail between my legs. I want to work with children. It’s a job I love and even if I say so myself, I’m good at it. I’m sure I’ll get something elsewhere. It just stings that she was so nice to me when she interviewed me a couple of months ago, and now she is turning her nose up at me.

I wander back to the apartment and sling my coat on the couch.

“No luck?” Katie asks. “I ordered pizza. It should be here soon, or we’ll get it free. I thought you might need cheering up.”

I tell her about Madeleine. “Just as well it’s not the only agency in town,” she says.

I switch on my laptop, but I can’t face looking for jobs right now. Cat videos on Facebook are about all I can stomach. I make a cup of coffee while we wait for the pizza and scroll through all the crap. I definitely need a laugh. There’s all the news of friends having fun in far-flung places and the ones who post everything they do; then there are the ads, and yes, the cat videos.

“There’s a video of a cat stealing cheese here. I didn’t even know cats liked cheese,” I say to Katie.

She takes a look and then scrolls on. I don’t mind. I have no secrets from Katie. “Oh. There’s a nanny job there. I don’t know how Facebook does that. It’s as if they know you’ve been looking for stuff.”

“It’s called targeting or something. Let me look.”

Katie hands my laptop over. And I burst out laughing.

“What?” she says. “Another cat?”

“No, it’s the job ad. The small print says, “Help wanted to look after a toddler. Must have experience of arm-wrestling and a phobia of flying. Odd-numbered age preferred. But there’s no phone number. Just a name. Ben Travers. That’s Elliott. It’s the name he used the first time when he was looking for a nanny.”

“Get in touch with him. He must be telling you it’s okay now.”

“There’s no way he’d know I was going to look at Facebook. But it looks like something happened for him to post that. I’ll need to work out how to contact him now, seeing as his number was in my phone.”

Katie answers the door for the pizza, just as I say, “I do want to know what changed, though.”

“Everything changed,” Elliott says. “Sorry for barging in. I just got the information telling me where you lived, Katie, and came straight here.”

“Elliott!” I run to the door and he pulls me into his arms and hugs me tight. “What are you doing here? Does Angelica know you’re here? Where’s Sophie?”

“Sophie is with her aunt, but I’m sure they can’t wait to see you. I just had to track you down. I’ve had a bunch of investigators on the case while I finished filming. Armitage nearly had apoplexy at the thought I might disappear. But I’ve been trying to tell you it would be okay with my ads.”

“Your ads? There’s more than one?”

“I put them everywhere—on Facebook, in the newspaper, morning and evening editions. There’s even a billboard in Piccadilly Circus.”

“I just saw the one on Facebook.”

“So much for advertising. It sucks.”

“What happened with Angelica? Did she just give Sophie back?”

“Not just like that. I called the Clarion. Despite how bad they can be, they are still interested in publishing the truth, to a certain degree, especially if the truth means a good story for them.”

“You stitched up Angelica?”

“No. I didn’t go that far, but I’ve had investigators keeping an eye on her for a while in case she pulled something like this. I threatened her with some truths of my own. I did the best acting job of my life, because I had to make her believe I would tell the whole truth to the newspaper if she didn’t back off, but I don’t want Sophie to know how bad her mother is if I can help it.”

“That’s true. Poor Sophie.” I shudder at the thought of having Angelica for a mother. “But at least she’s back safe with you now.”

“Yes, Angelica handed her over without too much fuss in the end. I hope you don’t mind this, but I offered the Clarion the story of how I fell for my nanny, hook, line and sinker.”

He smiles and kisses me.

“No, I don’t mind that kind of story,” I say.

“I told the newspaper editor that even if Angelica didn’t retract whatever story she told her pal Clarice about a break up and reconciliation, or the addiction I was supposed to be suffering from, I’d sue them for every penny, because there isn’t an ounce of truth in any of it.”

“I’m glad you stood up to them.”

“I hope you don’t mind about me telling our story. It was the only truth I wanted them to publish. But I had to promise them rights to our wedding pictures to make them listen.”

“Our wedding pictures?”

“Well, I was hoping you would agree.”

“He’s asking you to marry him,” Katie says, laughing. “You’re supposed to say yes.”

“Yes,” I say. Elliott picks me up and spins me around just as the pizza guy shows up, and Elliott gives him such a big tip the guy thinks he won the lottery.

“Do you really not mind about the pictures?” Elliott asks as we start tucking into the pizza.

“I guess not. I didn’t imagine inviting the Clarion when I got married, but I don’t mind about anything right now.”

He smiles at me. “It will be fine. I’m sure it will as long as they print an odd number of pictures. I’ll put it in the contract…”