The Nanny

3. Paige

The black cab lets us off at a farmhouse surrounded by fields and overgrown grass. We're the only property as far as the eye can see. The two-story white stucco house with a black painted front door has a thatched roof. A thatched roof.

Somehow I missed that my rental property is protected from the rain by bundles of hay. The cab driver had to tell me how to refer to the bunches of, likely, mold infested straw on the top of my house. I'll have to comb the internet later for how much of a problem this is. Fingers crossed there's no mice living in the attic.

Maybe I should have flown to England to look at houses. I'm still not sure how far this place is from Bedford since the cab picked up me and Joey from the airport and brought us here. 

Joey is perched on my hip, and the black cab is turning around in the spacious laneway. In my mind, I backtrack along the long gravel road, through the thick trees with little deer like creatures peeking out, and past another farmhouse with a terrier that almost got run over when it tried to bite the cab tires.

Part of me wants to retrace my steps right out of the country and back to somewhere familiar. Even the air smells different here, but that might just be the various plants spring is ushering into bloom. Everything is so lush, as though someone took a paint brush and slathered green paint across the countryside.

Two suitcases rest on either side of me. There's already a small compact car parked next to the back entrance of the property near a flowering tree. There should be a key in the house for it so I can shop for groceries, buy supplies for Joey, and otherwise get settled in during the next week before starting work.

The house is supposed to be fully furnished, but I've ordered sheets and various other odds and ends that I hope have been delivered. The company paid someone at the office here to oversee my arrival from the car to my packages.   

As of right now, I still don't have a live-in nanny, and it's weighing heavily on my mind. Several people applied, but when pressed for references, they couldn't come up with any or ghosted me. Sitting in my inbox is an email from a single parent named Ashley, but I haven't emailed her back yet. No nanny experience, but she's a mom, apparently.

At least she'll have some idea of how to care for a child and run a household, unlike many of the random people who have applied. Turns out offering a better salary doesn't just attract the ideal candidates but anyone else trying to make a buck even if they don't have a clue how to care for a child or accurately separate laundry.

I set Joey on his feet, and I lift up the mat to find the heavy metal key Kate said would be here. It's in a style I've never seen before—like something out of a movie. After turning it over in my palm, I slot it into the door, and the lock tumbles open. Seems secure enough. Old doesn't necessarily mean bad, I suppose.

I sweep Joey into my arms, and I push open the door. Inside is a wide front entrance painted the same white as the exterior. On the floor is a thick red carpet with some sort of subtle diamond accent. To the right are several boxes, including one holding a car seat for Joey. I couldn't get the brand I wanted here, and the picture doesn't resemble the one I left behind in Michigan. Guess I'll have to figure that out on top of everything else.

I wander the house, and I'm pleased that most of it is in decent shape. The kitchen is spacious and has a large black stove with a double oven. If I was the type to cook big meals, that would be an exciting find. Hopefully the nanny, whoever I hire, appreciates it.

Upstairs, there are three bedrooms and three bathrooms in a modern style. Kate said the house used to be a bed and breakfast, and there's ample space. The white walls and red carpet are carried throughout, and when Joey rests his head on my shoulder, I'm reminded of the incoming jetlag.