Rebecca Thornton - The Fallout

I’d felt suspicious then, but maybe I had just been jealous? Maybe I had thought badly of Ella all this time and actually the problem was with me and the association of when I had last seen her – when everything started to fall apart.

‘Ella,’ I say to Gav. ‘Oh my God. It’s Ella. Remember her? NCT?’

In fact, I know he does. No one could forget her.

‘I do,’ he replies. ‘I totally do. She went AWOL, yeah?’

‘Yes. No one knew why. But well, I bumped into her yesterday. Just before … Anyway. Her kid is at school with Jack but not in the same class. And neither me nor Sarah have ever laid eyes on her at the school gates. Guess she’s back and nicer than we thought.’

‘Oh. I’m surprised you didn’t mention it. I know Sarah was obsessed with her. Anyway – it appears that yes, she is back,’ says Gav. He looks over at Jack and nods his head. ‘And two days’ maternity nurse? Wow. I think she might just be our fairy godmother. It will be good to have an extra set of eyes on everything.’

I guess, despite everything that’s happened in the last two days, despite the fact my son is lying in a hospital bed next to me, despite me wanting to shake Gav to come to his senses, we’ve agreed on one thing, at last.

West London Gazette editorial notes, October 2019

J Roper interview transcript: Faye Hollis, witness, The Vale Club

Are you sure this is anonymous? I mean, my job could be on the line. I’ve been with my family for three years now: two little girls. I’m a live-out. But I still know them back to front because I babysit twice a week and I’ve been on holiday with them. They employed me fresh out of Norland College for Nannies. They expect full loyalty – so, they must never, ever find out I’ve been speaking to you. It’s this code of conduct thing. They know we all gossip about them behind their backs. For us it’s work, you see?

‘Oh, you must hate us,’ they say. ‘And talk about how awful we are to all your other nanny friends. I hope you don’t think our children are too bratty.’ But they don’t mean it. Really, they’re just looking for reassurance that we haven’t been discussing their children – or their parenting habits. But of course, we have.

So I was there. When it happened. I didn’t see the actual fall. For me it was just a normal day. Pretty intense because it’s half-term but a group of us had met that morning. It was the same as it normally is, just on hyper-mode; all the parents competing all the time. Perfect little children, perfectly dressed up. And if one of their children starts to have a meltdown, they speak extra loudly – just so everyone knows they’re disciplining their child. ‘Maximilian, do we do that at home? No we don’t.’ (And let me tell you, Maximilian definitely does do that at home.) Or they just give in to save face – ‘Here, Maximilian of course you can have ten chocolate bars,’ whilst hissing at him on the sly that he’s going to have his favourite toy taken away later on.

But anyway – it was all a bit busy. We were going about our business, when we heard this terrible scream. Everyone froze for a minute. Then I saw this one woman – she had brown hair and was in leggings – rush outside. I thought she looked like she was going to faint. It must have been her son because when we looked outside she was sobbing over him. She was at the table where you can see outside into the playground, so I suppose she must have been watching but, you know – if it had been one of us nannies in charge, it would have been a totally different ballgame. For a start, we would never have been sitting there, we would have been outside. It’s an unspoken rule at the club, that that table is reserved only for mums and dads.

Because, you know – there’s a list of rules us nannies have to stick to. No phone during working hours. Engaging with the kids at all times. Always be next to them. Healthy food. Consistency with discipline. All the things we’d do anyway. But – it’s like, we’re held to a totally different set of standards to the parents.

I spend all day with my two charges – seven a.m. to seven p.m., doing exactly what their mum and dad ask me to do – and I work hard to do it. But then the parents get back from work and undo everything I’ve achieved that day. They sit there on their phones as soon as they get back from their jobs. Slumped on the sofa and then they wonder why their kids are jumping all over them, demanding their attention. And then – the cheek of it, I’ve spent hours preparing freshly pressed juices, fresh salmon and the likes – the parents let them eat what they like. ‘Yes of course you can have a bowl of Coco Pops.’

I tell Mum and Dad, ‘They’ve already had a very healthy dinner,’ and you were the ones that implemented that bloody rule anyway, I want to shout, but they look at me and then they look directly at their child, and say, ‘It’s OK. Mummy said you could.’ It drives all of us nannies wild.

I’m not saying anything shady went on, just that – well – if it had been us nannies on patrol, then I doubt this would ever have happened. And if it did? You’d find us on the front page of the paper, wouldn’t you? I said as much to my boss and she didn’t seem very happy with me. Mumbled something about mums being exhausted all the time and ‘mental load’ – whatever that is. Does she not think I’m exhausted, taking care of her kids?

As I said – it’s one set of rules for them, and one set of rules for us.

But please, I’ll lose my job if anyone finds out I’ve been talking. I’m sorry. I hope you don’t think I’m too awful. It’s just that this is exactly the way it is. And our rule would have been very clear. We would have been outside, all that time. Rain or shine. We would have been watching that poor little boy, and so really – he never would have fallen in the first place.

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