Just because I wasn’t totally forthcoming I’m about Minnie at the interview. I mean, what am I supposed to do, slag off my own daughter? So I slightly fibbed and said Minnie had won Best Behaviour prize at toddler group for six weeks running. And Luke said that was defeating the entire object of the exercise and we had a slight … heated discussion.
‘Anyway, she’s here,’ I say as the doorbell goes. ‘I’d better run. See you later.’
As I open the door, Kyla’s standing there, holding a guitar, and I have to stifle a giggle. She does look just like Julie Andrews, except in jeans. I wonder if she danced up the road singing ‘I Have Confidence In Me’.
‘Hi, Mrs Brandon.’ Her buck teeth are already exposed in a friendly grin.
‘Please call me Becky!’ I usher her in. ‘Minnie can’t wait to see you! She’s doing Play-Doh,’ I add a little smugly as I lead her to the kitchen. ‘I like to start her off with something constructive in the morning.’
‘Wonderful.’ Kyla nods vigorously. ‘I did a lot of Play-Doh work with Eloise, my former charge, when she was a toddler. She was so talented at it. In fact, she won a prize in a local art competition for one of her creations.’ She smiles reminiscently ‘We were all so proud.’
‘Great!’ I smile back. ‘So here we are …’ I open the door with a flourish.
Shit. Minnie isn’t doing Play-Doh any more. She’s abandoned all the pots and is banging merrily at my laptop.
‘Minnie! What are you doing?’ I give a shrill laugh. ‘That’s Mummy’s!’
I hurry over and grab the laptop from her – and as my eyes focus on the screen my blood runs cold. She’s about to bid £2,673,333,333 for the Chloé shoes.
‘Minnie!’ I grab the laptop away from her.
‘Miiiine!’ yells Minnie furiously. ‘Miiiine shoooooes!’
‘Is Minnie doing some computer art?’ Kyle heads over towards me with a pleasant smile and I hastily whip the laptop away.
‘She was just working with … numbers,’ I say a bit shrilly. ‘Would you like some coffee? Minnie, do you remember Kyla?’
Minnie gives Kyla a snooty look and starts banging the Play-Doh pots together.
‘I’ll be making my own Play-Doh from now on if that’s OK, Mrs Brandon,’ Kyla says. ‘I prefer to use organic flour.’
Wow. Organic home-made Play-Doh. You see, this is why you have an Ultimate Nanny. I can’t wait to boast about her at work.
‘And when do you think you’ll start teaching her Mandarin?’ I ask, because I know Luke will ask.
Luke is really into Minnie learning Mandarin. He keeps telling me how useful it will be for her in later life. And I think it’ll be cool too – except I’m also a bit apprehensive. What if Minnie gets fluent in Mandarin and I don’t understand her? Do I need to learn it too? I keep picturing a teenage Minnie cursing me in Mandarin, while I stand there frantically flicking through a phrasebook.
‘It depends on her aptitude,’ replies Kyla. ‘I started Eloise at eighteen months, but she was an exceptional child. Very bright and receptive. And so willing to please.’
‘She sounds great,’ I say politely.
‘Oh, Eloise is a wonderful child.’ Kyla nods fervently. ‘She still Skypes me every day from Boston for calculus and Mandarin practice. Before her athletic training, of course. She’s a gymnast now, too.’
OK, I’m already a bit sick of this Eloise. Calculus, Mandarin and gymnastics? That’s just showing off.
‘Well, Minnie’s very bright and receptive too. In fact, she wrote her first poem the other day,’ I can’t resist adding.
‘She wrote a poem?’ For the first time, Kyla sounds impressed. Ha. Suck on that, Eloise. ‘She’s writing already?’
‘She said it to me and I wrote it down for her,’ I explain after a slight pause. ‘It was a poem in the oral tradition.’
‘Tell me your poem, Minnie!’ Kyla exclaims brightly to Minnie. ‘How did it go?’
Minnie glowers at her and stuffs Play-Doh up her nose.
‘She probably doesn’t remember any more,’ I say quickly. ‘But it was very simple and lovely. It went …’ I clear my throat for effect. ‘ “Why do the raindrops have to fall?”’
‘Wow.’ Kyla seems bowled over. ‘That’s beautiful. So many levels in there.’
‘I know.’ I nod earnestly. ‘We’re going to put it on our Christmas cards.’
‘Good idea!’ enthuses Kyla. ‘You know, Eloise produced so many wonderful hand-crafted Christmas cards, she sold them for charity. She won the Philanthropy prize at her school. You know St Cuthbert’s, Chelsea?’