The Nanny

2. Ash

At the building site I throw open the door to my Dacia Sandero, grab my bag of tools from the boot, and I haul my arse to where everyone is already working. Late again. Once I'm at where I left off the night before, I try to blend in near a pile of bricks. Maybe it'll appear as though I was here when we were supposed to start almost an hour ago. Some days no one notices, or it feels like they don't.

"Ash," Tejinder calls to me from where he's laying bricks at another house across the road. He scrapes the excess mortar off the brick, taps it level, and then smears more on the next one. "Tom wants to see you. I tried to tell him you were in the loo, but that only worked till half past."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. A cool sweat breaks out in my armpits. Losing this job would bugger me even more than I already am.

"Right. Thanks, mate." With my bag of tools in my hand, I head to the building deemed as the office space on this housing estate. Tom is the site manager, and last week when I was late, he warned me he couldn't keep turning the other way.

At the door to the office, I give a quick rap with my knuckles. Secretly, I'm hoping he's off somewhere, and I can pretend later I was only a minute or two late. Tejinder would cover for me. We've known each other since Upper School.

"Come in," Tom calls, and I hold in the deep sigh that threatens.

As soon as I open the door, Tom stares at me with a deep furrow in his brow. Pointedly, he checks the clock hanging on the wall to the right. "Did you just get in, Ash?"

For a brief moment, I consider lying, but the one thing Tom has always said about me is that he values my honesty. My life is shit right now—has been for the last six months since Imogen up and left—and I don't make any attempts to hide it.

"That's right," I say, and I wait for what I hope isn't coming.

Tom runs his hands through his hair which is longer than the close-cropped style I favor.

"Don't sack me." It's coming, and he's told me more than once he doesn't want to have to do it. Perhaps I can persuade him one more time to keep me. We both know I'm working on borrowed time, but at least it's better than no time. "The child minder called in sick this morning, and I needed someone else for Chloe."

Ended up being someone more expensive than I can afford, but when faced with being dismissed from this job site, it wasn't a hard decision. Now it feels like a stupid one. I can't even offer to stay late since this babysitter finishes earlier than my other one.

Tom has been more understanding than any other manager I've ever worked for. If he can't tolerate the unpredictability of my childcare situation, no one can. Getting another job on a building site will be almost impossible. I'll be getting hired and fired constantly. No stability at all.

"I know your life went pear shaped when Imogen had your kid and left ya, but if I keep you on, regardless of the reason, I'm making it seem like I'm okay with what you've been doing. Maybe it's not your fault, but at some point, it starts to look like it is."

My biggest problem is organization. On a job site, someone else is usually doing it for me, and at home, it used to be Immy making sure our life ran smoothly. Now, trying to secure care for Chloe, managing the flat, and keeping my job are all on me.

The balance between paying Chloe's babysitters and what I make as a bricklayer barely gives me two pence to rub together. If I lose this job, it'll scupper my chances of ever digging myself out of this endless hole. No matter what, I'm not losing my daughter. Without a place to live, it won't take long for someone to call child protective services on me.

"Have you thought about moving back north?" Tom asks. "Isn't your da' up that way?"

He is, but going to him would be the absolute last resort. After the divorce, he wasn't around much, and though he attended mum's funeral a couple years ago, he hasn't kept in touch. We're strangers. Might as well live with a stranger as go to him for help.