Welcome the new nanny

The late afternoon sun slanted through the windows of the white-columned Georgian house, casting golden light across the polished hardwood floor. Susie squinted her eyes; the house had changed since she'd last been inside - new curtains, new rugs, a vase of roses she knew he would never have chosen by himself. She turned to her left and saw a picture of a woman in a red dress smiling so confidently; apparently that would be the woman he used to cheat on her, but Susie wasn't here to admire décor or to drag husband with anyone.She was here for her son.

Dressed in a neat pink skirt, a prim white blouse buttoned to her throat, and wire-rimmed glasses that dulled the fire in her blue eyes, Susie looked every inch the proper English nanny. Her usually free, dark curls were pinned into a tight bun. No trace of the woman who once lived in this house remained in her reflection - except in her eyes, which never stopped searching, calculating.

She had rehearsed this role a hundred times. Her name was Miss Jennie Oliver now, with a calm, clipped accent borrowed from BBC dramas and a forged reference letter from a retired family in New Castle. She had been a nanny for six years and has had lots of experience with children. Of course this was not a joke considering she has a son. Every detail had been perfected. Still, her hands were cold.

The door opened.

The woman who answered was tall and fair, with the effortless elegance of someone who'd never been left behind. Natasha, her ex-husband's new wife. Her own sister. At that moment, she wanted to just strangle her and toss her away but she couldn't . She wasn't like her husband.She smiled with the cool politeness of someone doing a favor, not seeking help.

"You must be Miss Oliver. Please, come in."

Susie gave a slight, deferential bow. "Thank you, Mrs.Colllins. It's a pleasure."

They sat in the sunroom. poured tea. The air smelled like bergamot and success. Eleanor smiled, serene, as Natasha scanned her résumé.

"So," Natasha said, crossing her legs. "You've been with the Hastings family for five years?"

"Yes," Eleanor replied smoothly. "Lovely children. Twins, actually. Very energetic. But the family is relocating to New York, and I'm unable to follow."

Natasha nodded. "And you specialize in... structured care?"

"I do. Routines, gentle discipline, and emotional development. I also speak Spanish and play piano."

Natasha tilted her head, clearly impressed. "And you're certified?"

Susie produced laminated credentials - carefully crafted. Natasha scanned them, and nodded. The silence lingered a moment too long, and Susie felt the weight of scrutiny.

But then-

"You'll be looking after James.He's six. Sensitive. Not my son though, some mongrel I guess...." Susie bit her lip.

"...Needs structure, frankly. His father's been very busy lately. "

James. Her James. Susie had to inhale slowly to steady herself.

"I look forward to meeting him. He must be a lovely boy." she said softly.

Natasha stood. "He's upstairs actually. I'll call him down."

" James come here now."

The sound of small feet on the stairs. The shape that appeared was slightly smaller, thinner, with new shoes and a wary expression. He blinked at her. Something flickered in his face - a spark of recognition, maybe. Or maybe just a six-year-old's instinct.

"He's been crying a lot lately. He lost his mom who is my sister. I would cry too but I have to stay strong for him." She said using a finger to remove a fake tear from her eye. James wore a blue pajamas and dinosaur shoes.

"James, this is Miss Oliver."

She bent to his level, her throat tight. "Hello, James. I hope we'll be good friends."

He studied her for a long time. Then, slowly, he nodded.

"Okay."

Natasha smiled. "It's settled, then. You can start Monday?"

Susie studied his face closely. He was still in his pijamas. His face had cookie crumbs all over his face. He seriously needed a bath.

Eleanor rose. "He needs a bath."

Natasha who was polishing her nails didn't seem much bothered. She turned to James and squeezed her nose.

"Why haven't you had your bath James."

" I don't know how to." James said shyly.

" I could bath him if you want..." 

" That's your job so do it." Natasha said coldly and continued polishing her nails. 

Susie ushered the boy to the bathroom and began removing his clothes. James wasn't bothered. He felt like his mother was bathing him. He looked at the nanny again. She looked similar to Mom. Apart from the huge mole on her face and ruthless haircut. He could see the love and care in her eyes, but she wasn't his mother. He wanted his mother.Susie carried him into the bath tub. She began scrubbing. She wondered how he had been bathing when she was not available. She looked at her son's face and saw that he still missed her. 

" Are you thinking of your mom?" . No reply.

" Don't worry. She might actually be alive."

" She's dead." He said coldly. 

"And what do you know about my mother, you are just a nanny." He took his rubber duck and dipped it in the water.

" I know that your mom was very nice. Your step mother told me..." 

" Aunt Natasha would never be my mother." Susie smiled. At least she still has hope on winning her son's love back. The rubber duck popped out of the water, he pushed it back in again. Susie went to the cupboard and brought out a brown monkey rag doll, his favourite toy. She hid her face behind the toy and used her hand to control the arms. She started talking in a chipmunk voice;

"James cheer up buddy and have your bath." James giggled and joined in the fun. From cosplay to splashing bubbles, James looked more happy than he had ever been.

" Do come back soon." James yanked the hem of Susie's skirt. It was time to go home.She tried to control her emotions.

" James. She works here now. She will resume tomorrow." Susie waved at her son as Natasha dragged the boy back into the house.

As she walked out of the house - the house that used to be hers, Susie didn't look back. She had passed the interview. Gained entry into the house and her son's heart.

And now, she was closer to her son than she had been in a long time.

The rest of the plan could begin.