Emma McLaughlin - The Nanny Diaries

THE NANNY DIARIES

Polo andpick up six pairs of knee-high cotton socks,white. Takeone of Grayer's shoeswith you soyou get the right size. I've left a pair with James so you can get them when you pick up the article and then juststickit all inyour carry-on. Perfect. Seeyoutomorrow!"

Beep.

"Nanny."I havetrouble placing the voice at first. "As per myletter of instructions, I'll be arriving atthe apartment tomorrow. I trust you had no trouble finding the foie gras. Have a good time in Nantucket andpleasesayhellotoGrayerforme."

AH right. 1 grew up and then became a governess. [Pause] I'd really tike to start a conversation, but

there's noonetostart aconversation with ... I don't haveanybodyatall.

. HEANDRYEEV1CHFAMILY GOVERNESS,THECHERRYORCHARD.

CHAPTER TEN

AndWe GaveHeranAll*-expenses^paidVa cation

"Good-bye!" the Horners shout from their car as it pulls out of the Nantucket Airport parking lot,

leavingmealonebythesideofthetarmac.

I sit down on my duffel bag and fight the urge not to throw up as only someone can who's just flown twenty-five minutes on a six-seater plane through torrential downpours, unrelenting fog, and massive turbulence with four adults, three children, a goldfish, a guinea pig, and a golden retriever. Only my considerationfortheHornergirls preventedmefromscreamingatevery drop.

I pullmysweatshirt closer aroundmeagainstthesaltywindandwait.

Andwait.

Andwait.

Oh,no,that's okay,that'sfiiine. No,I wasn't outlateatmygraduationparty. No,youtakeyourtime.'ll

just sit here in the cold drizzle. No, I think what's important is that I'm here, in Nantucket, and that you and your family can rest easy just knowing I am somewhere within a ten-mile vicinity of you. I think what's important,

THE NANNY DIARIES

you know, paramount really, is that I'm not off living my life, attending to whatever I need to be doing,

but am permanently onpauseforyouandyourfuckingfamily?

TheRover pulls inandbarelyslowsto aroll astheymotionfor

me tojumpin.

"Nanny!" Grayer screams. "I got a Kokichu!" He holds up a yellow Japanese toy as I open the door.

Thereis averylargecanoeprecariouslyangledinthetrunksothatitsticksoutover halftheback

passengerseat.

"Nanny,becarefuloftheboat. It's anantique,"Mrs. Xsays

proudly.

I maneuver myself under the canoe, pull my bag between my feet, crouch low, and reach around to pat

Grayer's legingreeting. "Hey,Grove,I missedya."

"Theantiquinghereiswonderful. I'm hopingtofind anewcouchtableforthesecondguestbedroom."

"Dreambig,honey," Mr. X grumbles underhis breath.

Ignoringhim,shelooksupatme inhervisor mirror. "So,whatwastheplanelikeinside?"

"Urn,ithadbrown leatherseats?I say, myheadwedgedinto

mychest.

"Didtheyserveyouanything?"

"TheyaskedifI wantedpeanuts."

"You're so lucky. Jack Horner designs fabulous shoes. I absolutely adore Caroline. I worked on a

benefit last year for her brother's campaign. It's such a shame they live in Westchester or we'd just be

the best of friends." She checks her teeth in the mirror. "Now, I want to go over the plan for the

afternoon.It turnsout thePiersonbarbecueis formal, so I thoughtit'd beniceforyou guys to justenjoy

somedowntimeatthehouse. Relaxandenjoytheplace."

"Great. That sounds like fun." I attempt to look over at Grover in his car seat with visions of us passed

outinmatchingchaises onthelawn.

"Now, Caroline was supposed to call about dinner, so just give her my cell number when she rings. I've

tackedit up next tothe phonein the kitchen."Thanks,becauseit usually takes me about nine and a half

monthstomemorize aten-digit number.

We pull off the main road onto a densely wooded drive and I'm surprised to see that quite a few of the

treesarestill bare.

"They've had a cold spring."Mrs. X readsmythoughts. Thedrive opensinto a loopinfrontofwhatcan

only be described as a sprawling, ramshackle 1950s bungalow. The white paint is peeling, the screen

doorhas aholeinit,and apieceofroofingdangles at a precariousanglefromthegutter.

"Well, we're here. CasaCrap," Mr. Xsays,steppingdownfromthecar.

"Darling, I thought we agreed? She gets out and chases after him, leaving me to unbuckle Grayer and

get my bag out of the back. I hold what's left of the screen door open for Grayer, although he probably

couldjustcrawlthrough.

"Honey,it's notmyfaulttherealtor's photographswereoutdated."

"I'm justsayingthatforfivethousanddollars a week,maybe youcouldhavedone abit moreresearch."

Mrs. X turnstous, beaming. "Grayer,whydon't youshowNannyherroom?"

"Come on, Nanny, it's reallyreally cool!" I follow him up the stairs to a little room at the end of the

hallway. Thereare twotwin beds closetogether underthesharplyslanted lowceilingand Grayer's stuff is on one of them. "Isn't this cool, Nanny? We get to have a sleep-over every night!" He sits, bouncing on his bed. I stoop, careful not to bump my head, to fish a warm sweater and jeans out of my bag, as it wasactuallysummer backinNewYork andI optimistically woreshorts.

"Okay, G. I'm justgoingtochange." "AmI goingtoseeyounaked?"

"No, I'll gointhebathroom. Wait here.Where's thebathroom?"

THE NANNY DIARIES

"There!" Hepointstothedooracross thehall.

I push it open. "AAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!" And am confronted by a red-haired little girl,

shriekingonthetoilet. "Thisismyprivacy!"

"Sorry!" I slamthedoorclosed.

"Grayer,who's that?" I ask.

"That's CarsonSpender. She's stayingtheweekend."

"O-kay." Just then I hear a car pull up the gravel drive. I go over to the window and watch Mr. X direct

a Range Rover around to the side of the house. 1 walk down the hall to the dingy clerestory window

facingthe oceanand see the car pull in next to four others parked by the overgrown hedge.There are at

leasttenchildrenonthebacklawn.

"Grover?" I call, and he comes thumping down the hall. I heave him up so he can see out the window.

"Whoarethosekids?"

"I dunno. They're just kids." I kiss him on the top of his head and put him down as the bathroom door

opens. Carsonshootsme a dirty lookbeforemarchingdownstairs.

"G,whydon't youheaddownand I'll changequickly?"

"I wanttostaywith you,"hesays, followingme backintoour room.

"Okay,youcanstandoutsidethedoor."I trytocloseit.

"Nanny,youknowI don't likethat." I pullitback,soit's barely cracked,andpulloffmyshorts. "Nanny?

Canyouhearme?"

"Yes, Grove."Hestickshislittle fingersunderthedoor.

"Nanny, try to catch my fingers! Come on, catch "em!" I look down for a moment, then kneel and

gentlyticklethetipsofhis fingerswith myown.Hegigglesatmytouch.

"You know, Grove," I say, recalling that first week when he locked me out. "I got tnye thung thitikin

outta,too,andyoucan't seeit."

"Noyoudon't, silly."

"HowdoyouknowI don't?"

"You'd never,Nanny. Hurryup, I'll showyouthepool. It's reallyreallyfreezing!"

Out back are men in summer suits, and women shivering in lawn dresses, all standinglike traffic cones

aschildrenwhiz chaotically aroundthem.

"Mommy! Shetookmyprivacy!" I canhearCarsonpointingme outtohermather.

"Oh, Nanny, there you are," Mrs. X says. "We should all be beack around six. There's plenty of stuff in

thefridgeforlunch.Havefun!"

A chorus of "Have a greattime, guys!" erupts aroundus astheadults headover to theircars, which take

off,carseatsempty.

I look down at twelve expectant faces, as visions of an afternoon on the chaises quickly disappears.

"Okay, guys, I'm Nanny. I have a few ground rules. NOBODY goes near the pool. Is that clear? I don't

want to seeanybody going past thattree over there or you will sit in the broom closet for the rest of the