A Very London Christmas

This Christmas, I have my very own Scrooge to contend with: the gorgeous, grumpy single dad of the adorable little girl I’m nannying for.

The luxury hotel he owns may feel like a sumptuous Christmas movie set, but the door to Miles Montague’s penthouse is where that festive cheer ENDS.

To be fair, he has his reasons. His ex-wife walked out a couple of years ago, and Miles is at breaking point. In fact, the only person he ever smiles at is his little girl, Bea. When he looks at her, he’s a different man.

This is more than a nannying job: I’m Bea’s appointed holly jolly companion for December and I’m to ensure she delights in every Christmas treat this beautiful city has to offer.

Basically, I’m to be everything her poor, broken father can’t be for her.

The plan includes ice skating, visiting Santa at Harrods and drinking a of hot chocolate.

The plan does include Miles peeling off my shirt (and his own) when Bea vomits all over us, or me accidentally telling him to ‘make better use of me’ over champagne.

This guy has walls higher than Fort Knox. I get that. What I ’ get is why he’s the one to start knocking them down when he takes me out for champagne, or insists I accompany him and Bea to a magical Christmas party, or orchestrates the most fabulous designer glow-up for me when I’m worried I’ll be too shabby for the party.

Because when he does things like that, it feels like I’m more than just the simple Irish nanny.

It feels like we’re a family.