The Nanny

4. Ash

After four more trips where Paige tries to keep Joey from 'helping' too much, I have all our things in the bedroom. Perhaps I can avoid her tonight by unpacking some of this. Didn't enjoy packing all of it, and I suspect I'll hate organizing it here just as much.

Chloe wakes up while I'm digging through bags looking for the bottles and supplies I put somewhere I'd remember and have now promptly forgotten. Once I've located them, I decide I'll have to grasp the nettle. Gotta get comfortable today with Paige here. Tomorrow will be better. Joey and I get do bloke things around the house. Watch some footy, eat some crisps.

In the kitchen, Paige appears to have decided to go ahead with our situation. On the top of the wooden island in the middle of the kitchen is a series of lists. Should have known. From our text exchanges, she seemed like the type of woman to have checklists. Not that I mind. If she's organized, I don't have to be.

"Right," I say, as I try to locate everything I need to make a bottle for Chloe while keeping her in my arms. "What have you got there?"

"We didn't really go over my expectations, and so I thought I would lay them out so we didn't have any misunderstandings."

While the water in the sink warms for Chloe's bottle, I peer over Paige's shoulder to examine her lists. The dreaded laundry is there, but so is something I hadn't considered. Beside iron everything is a note to tell me that 'socks and underwear are included.' Bloody hell. The woman expects me to iron her knickers? Since I've never ironed anything, a hint of panic spreads across my chest. What sort of monster irons all their clothes? Even Imogen wasn't that fussed.

"I made this before you arrived," she says.

When I glance from the list to her, there's a pink sheen to her pale cheeks, and she doesn't meet my gaze. So she wants her knickers ironed, but she doesn't want to discuss it. If she wasn't my employer, I'd think she was having a laugh at my expense.

"I like to be organized." This time her tone is indignant.

Whenever Immy got that tone, I knew better than to engage. Keep my head down and carry on. I grab the bottle off the counter, and I fill it with the right amount of water, and then I scoop the powder into it. With my finger over the nipple, I shake it up, and Chloe is grinning from ear-to-ear making the milk hand sign.

"Did you teach her baby sign language or did her mother?"

"Wasn't her mother," I say as I pass Chloe the bottle and tip her into the crook of my arm so she's lying down to drink it. 

"Do you share custody with her mother?" Paige tilts her head, and her blonde hair sways, not quite touching her shoulder.

"No, I don't." I'm trying hard to keep my temper in check, but Immy is the one subject that everyone else in my life understands is off limits. We don't talk about her. It makes me angry and sad and really fucking confused that I still love someone who could do this to us.

"Is that because—"

"Does knowing all this impact whether you're keeping me on?"

Paige flushes a deeper pink than before. "Just curious. It's not—you don't have to tell me."

"Right. I think it's best if we focus on your little lists there." My tone comes out harsher than I intend, and Chloe's brow is furrowed when I glance down at her. "I didn't mean to be short with you. Chloe's mum's a sore subject."

Paige bites her lip, and if I knew her better, I might be able to determine what that means. Not sure if I've offended her or what. Might as well set clear parameters from day one. Imogen isn't idle chit-chat.