The Night Watch ✓

8 / faking it

As the kitchen clock ticked closer to ten, Bree paced around the flat wringing her wrists and glancing at the time every few seconds. Any minute now, there would be a knock on the door and she would officially be responsible for a three-year-old for the next eight hours. The thought terrified her, though she had been mentally preparing herself ever since Maddie had asked her to babysit. It couldn't be that bad, she kept saying, but this was the first time she would be trusted with a child. Her best friends' child. There was a reason she was the last resort when it came to childcare but all other options exhausted, it was time to step up to the mark.

There had been no chance of a lie-in this Saturday, when she had awoken in a panic at eight o'clock after a nightmare in which she lost Sarah. It had been so freakishly realistic that even after waking, she had leapt out of bed and was halfway to the door before she realised it had been her imagination. Heart pounding, she hadn't been able to get back to sleep after that.

At least it was a nice day. The sun streamed through the window, brightening the flat, and Bree stood bathed in the warm light as she waited for guardianship to be thrust upon her. Two cups of coffee had already entered her system, and she had a feeling she would have drunk another couple by the time her duty was over. Focusing on calming her breathing, she closed her eyes and let out a long sigh. It would all be ok.

At nine fifty-six, there was a knock on the door, and Bree lunged for it. She painted a smile onto her lips as she opened it to see Nick on the other side, looking more polished than she had ever seen him. His hair was brushed, his shirt crisp, and he gave her a twinkling smile as he patted the bag he wore on his shoulder.

"Ready?" he asked, pushing Sarah's buggy into the flat, though there was no sign of the child herself.

"No," Bree said, in a rare bout of honesty. "I'm going to be truthful with you, Nick. I'm kind of terrified that I'll break your daughter."

He just laughed and stepped into the flat. "You'll be fine. She's easy-going, as long as you feed her and let her nap. She takes after her mother." He lifted the bag off his shoulder and set it down on the kitchen table. "Mads has written instructions, in case you need them, but you'll be fine I'm sure. There are snacks in here in case Sar gets hungry, and a couple of juice cartons."

Bree eyed the bag warily. "Do I need to do, like, nappy changes?"

Nick stared at her, slowly tilting his head. "God," he said. "You're more clueless than I thought."

Bree threw out her arms. "That's what I've been trying to get you guys to realise! I have no clue what I'm doing."

"Sarah's three," he said. "She's been out of nappies since she was one, so you'll be fine. She'll tell you when she needs the loo, so you just need to help her up, and she can take off her clothes just fine, but she hasn't figured out how to put them on yet, so keep an eye on that." He chuckled and added, "She seems to be developing a habit of undressing when you're not looking."

Bree rested her chin on her hand and shook her head. "This is like some kind of IKEA DIY kit," she said, her eyes shifting from the bag to the buggy, and Nick laughed, but she gave him a glare. "Do I need to remind you of the last time I made an IKEA cupboard?" She raised her hand to his face, pointing out the circular scar that was mimicked on both sides. "Seven hours in A&E."

He gave her a wary look, and moved her hand out of his face. "You'll be fine, Bree. Just don't use an electric drill anywhere near my daughter. I love you, but I would struggle to forgive you if you drilled a hole in her hand."

Bree tucked her thumbs into the pockets of her jeans. "It'll be ok," she said, reassuring herself more than Nick. "Where is Sarah, anyway?"

Nick jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the door. "Mads is bringing her over."