"....and this is your room," the rather intimidatingly staid housekeeper, Mrs Finnegan, said as she opened the door. "The manual is located on the bedside table, in which you will find everything you need to know about working in this house. Any questions, ask the maids. You have your own bathroom, as requested." The older woman sniffed, clearly disapproving of this stipulation in the new nanny's contract. "You are expected to take up your duties when the child returns from his play-date, approximately around 4 p.m. That is all, Ms Beekman."
"Thank you, Mrs Finnegan. I'm sure I'll be very happy here." Charley offered up her best smile, and watched as it dashed itself to pieces on the granite-hard face in front of her.
Mrs Finnegan made a noise that suggested Charley's happiness in her new workplace had no importance at all, and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Left alone, Charley breathed out in relief, manhandling her luggage over to the wardrobe and chest of drawers beneath the window. Dropping down onto the bed - a queen, she was very lucky - she lay back and spent a while staring up at the ceiling, trying to get her head straight once again. It had been a long journey from New York, not made any easier by the fact that her new employer's housekeeper had informed her the moment she arrived that she was sixteen minutes late. Not fifteen minutes, not a quarter of an hour. Sixteen minutes. As if the extra minute made all the difference. Never mind that trains and buses couldn't exactly be forced to run on time, or that Charley had had to walk what felt like a couple of miles from the bus-stop and up the driveway, carrying and dragging all her packed belongings with her.
It had seemed like a good gig in New York. Her last employer, Mrs Van deVries, had recommended her with glowing assurances to a colleague of her husband's who was visiting on business, and after a very brief interview in the laundry room, Charley had found herself in possession of a contract and a job to start virtually the second she became unemployed again. She hadn't minded living and working at the Van deVries'. Their son, Isaac, had been a little monster at first, but once they'd gotten to know one another, things had leveled out. The only reason she'd been let go was because their little precious had gotten early admission to some high-rated boarding school miles away. She frowned a little at that thought - a live-in nanny was one thing, in her opinion; sending a child of four miles away to live and school and only come home at the holidays was just cruel. If you didn't have time for children, why have them' But then, if everyone thought that way, Charley would constantly be out of a job.
This new job ....well, the situation she was walking into was complex, apparently. As far as she was aware, Mr Benjamin Blake was recently divorced, had won the custody battle only because his ex-wife was blatantly an unfit mother, and had subsequently found himself in the unenviable position of being the sole parent to a two-year-old boy. Seemingly his last nanny had lasted all of three months before giving her notice - I wonder if Mrs Finnegan had anything to do with that - which was the reason he had leaped on the chance to interview and hire a nanny recommended by his colleague's wife. He worked away from home a fair amount, by the sounds of things, and didn't think his housekeeper deserved the added stresses of looking after a small child on top of everything else.
Sighing, Charley rolled onto her side and reached for the thick wad of bound paper on the nightstand. The Nanny Manual. To think, she'd thought it was a joke when she'd first started, but she had soon learned that this was possibly the most invaluable resource she could ask for when it came to inserting herself into the daily routine of a family. Of course, she probably wasn't going to be inserted into a family here, but if the indomitable Mrs Finnegan was anything to go by, Oscar Blake was going to need all the friendly, fun routine Charley could spin for him.
She flipped open the first page, and began to read, absorbing the pertinent information first before going over it once again. Father's work schedule ....sketchy, at best. It seemed as though she would be given a file at the beginning of every week determining whether or not he would be home, and when. Oscar's weekly schedule was also in there, detailing his hours at nursery, the days his tutor - Tutor! At two! - came to work with him, meal times, bath days. There was also helpfully included a list of the arranged play-dates for the next two weeks. At least she wasn't going to be floundering around too much. Apparently Oscar would eat with her, except on those days when his father was home in good time for dinner, in which case she would eat with the rest of the staff.
There was also another note in Mrs Finnegan's spidery hand - You will be expected to meet with Mr Blake once a month to discuss the child's progress and well-being. Be sure to dress appropriately and behave well. Do not take up more of his time than is absolutely necessary. Charley snorted with laughter, rolling her eyes. "A man who has to schedule time just to find out how his son is doing," she muttered to herself. "Why doesn't he just, I don't know, spend some time with the kid?"
Flipping further through the manual, she found the details of her contract laid out in full. Blackberry, car, health insurance provided - all fantastic benefits, and part of the reason this job had appealed so much. Days off - not so fantastic, since they consisted of a morning and an afternoon a week, not on the same day. Paid leave and overtime, though; if she was required during her time off, she would be paid double time. Her room and bathroom were her business, though she was expected to keep them clean and tidy. Allergies, daily tasks, illness, emergency contacts, location of the first aid kits, four pages on how to discipline him when he got out of line ....Wait a second.
Pulling her eyes back from the end of the last page, Charley frowned, flipping through for the third time in search of what should have been there. "What the hell ...?"
There was nothing there about Oscar himself, aside from the medical need-to-knows. Nothing about his preferences, what he liked to do, what he was afraid of, what his favorite food was, what he was allowed as a treat or snack. No indication as to whether he was an indoor kid or an outdoor kid, no information on a best friend. Worse, he was referred to throughout the document as "the child". Yet when she'd been interviewed by his father, he had been Oscar, or my son. Just how little did Mr Benjamin Blake have to do with his own son's upbringing, though' This read like a basic instruction manual, not a helpful guide to making friends with the little boy she was going to meet for the first time in just a few hours.
"Great." It seemed that the indomitable Mrs Finnegan held the reins of this house firmly in her grasp. Charley could foresee a few battles in her future, but she wasn't going to let a little boy be bullied around and treated like an object, especially when his father wasn't around to see it or do anything about it.
If nothing else, Oscar Blake had just found a friend in his new nanny. With any luck, he'd be her friend soon, too. And just maybe, she'd be able to inject a few changes into this staid household for the better. Before she was fired.
"Thank you, Mrs Finnegan. I'm sure I'll be very happy here." Charley offered up her best smile, and watched as it dashed itself to pieces on the granite-hard face in front of her.
Mrs Finnegan made a noise that suggested Charley's happiness in her new workplace had no importance at all, and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Left alone, Charley breathed out in relief, manhandling her luggage over to the wardrobe and chest of drawers beneath the window. Dropping down onto the bed - a queen, she was very lucky - she lay back and spent a while staring up at the ceiling, trying to get her head straight once again. It had been a long journey from New York, not made any easier by the fact that her new employer's housekeeper had informed her the moment she arrived that she was sixteen minutes late. Not fifteen minutes, not a quarter of an hour. Sixteen minutes. As if the extra minute made all the difference. Never mind that trains and buses couldn't exactly be forced to run on time, or that Charley had had to walk what felt like a couple of miles from the bus-stop and up the driveway, carrying and dragging all her packed belongings with her.
It had seemed like a good gig in New York. Her last employer, Mrs Van deVries, had recommended her with glowing assurances to a colleague of her husband's who was visiting on business, and after a very brief interview in the laundry room, Charley had found herself in possession of a contract and a job to start virtually the second she became unemployed again. She hadn't minded living and working at the Van deVries'. Their son, Isaac, had been a little monster at first, but once they'd gotten to know one another, things had leveled out. The only reason she'd been let go was because their little precious had gotten early admission to some high-rated boarding school miles away. She frowned a little at that thought - a live-in nanny was one thing, in her opinion; sending a child of four miles away to live and school and only come home at the holidays was just cruel. If you didn't have time for children, why have them' But then, if everyone thought that way, Charley would constantly be out of a job.
This new job ....well, the situation she was walking into was complex, apparently. As far as she was aware, Mr Benjamin Blake was recently divorced, had won the custody battle only because his ex-wife was blatantly an unfit mother, and had subsequently found himself in the unenviable position of being the sole parent to a two-year-old boy. Seemingly his last nanny had lasted all of three months before giving her notice - I wonder if Mrs Finnegan had anything to do with that - which was the reason he had leaped on the chance to interview and hire a nanny recommended by his colleague's wife. He worked away from home a fair amount, by the sounds of things, and didn't think his housekeeper deserved the added stresses of looking after a small child on top of everything else.
Sighing, Charley rolled onto her side and reached for the thick wad of bound paper on the nightstand. The Nanny Manual. To think, she'd thought it was a joke when she'd first started, but she had soon learned that this was possibly the most invaluable resource she could ask for when it came to inserting herself into the daily routine of a family. Of course, she probably wasn't going to be inserted into a family here, but if the indomitable Mrs Finnegan was anything to go by, Oscar Blake was going to need all the friendly, fun routine Charley could spin for him.
She flipped open the first page, and began to read, absorbing the pertinent information first before going over it once again. Father's work schedule ....sketchy, at best. It seemed as though she would be given a file at the beginning of every week determining whether or not he would be home, and when. Oscar's weekly schedule was also in there, detailing his hours at nursery, the days his tutor - Tutor! At two! - came to work with him, meal times, bath days. There was also helpfully included a list of the arranged play-dates for the next two weeks. At least she wasn't going to be floundering around too much. Apparently Oscar would eat with her, except on those days when his father was home in good time for dinner, in which case she would eat with the rest of the staff.
There was also another note in Mrs Finnegan's spidery hand - You will be expected to meet with Mr Blake once a month to discuss the child's progress and well-being. Be sure to dress appropriately and behave well. Do not take up more of his time than is absolutely necessary. Charley snorted with laughter, rolling her eyes. "A man who has to schedule time just to find out how his son is doing," she muttered to herself. "Why doesn't he just, I don't know, spend some time with the kid?"
Flipping further through the manual, she found the details of her contract laid out in full. Blackberry, car, health insurance provided - all fantastic benefits, and part of the reason this job had appealed so much. Days off - not so fantastic, since they consisted of a morning and an afternoon a week, not on the same day. Paid leave and overtime, though; if she was required during her time off, she would be paid double time. Her room and bathroom were her business, though she was expected to keep them clean and tidy. Allergies, daily tasks, illness, emergency contacts, location of the first aid kits, four pages on how to discipline him when he got out of line ....Wait a second.
Pulling her eyes back from the end of the last page, Charley frowned, flipping through for the third time in search of what should have been there. "What the hell ...?"
There was nothing there about Oscar himself, aside from the medical need-to-knows. Nothing about his preferences, what he liked to do, what he was afraid of, what his favorite food was, what he was allowed as a treat or snack. No indication as to whether he was an indoor kid or an outdoor kid, no information on a best friend. Worse, he was referred to throughout the document as "the child". Yet when she'd been interviewed by his father, he had been Oscar, or my son. Just how little did Mr Benjamin Blake have to do with his own son's upbringing, though' This read like a basic instruction manual, not a helpful guide to making friends with the little boy she was going to meet for the first time in just a few hours.
"Great." It seemed that the indomitable Mrs Finnegan held the reins of this house firmly in her grasp. Charley could foresee a few battles in her future, but she wasn't going to let a little boy be bullied around and treated like an object, especially when his father wasn't around to see it or do anything about it.
If nothing else, Oscar Blake had just found a friend in his new nanny. With any luck, he'd be her friend soon, too. And just maybe, she'd be able to inject a few changes into this staid household for the better. Before she was fired.