‘So, what’s the costume?’ I asked, my brain sorting through images of vampires, ghosts and ghouls. How bad could it be?
‘I’m afraid it’s Cousin Itt,’ gasped out India, then leapt up and ran from the room, tears of laughter pouring down her face.
‘Cousin Itt?’ I asked. ‘Who’s that?’
‘He’s the character who is completely covered in long hair, from head to foot,’ said Nick, whose lips were also beginning to twitch with amusement. ‘And he has a hat and, erm, sunglasses.’
I took my phone out and quickly Googled the character. It was basically a walking wig. My stomach dropped into my shoes. I had an immediate urge to say the word that so often sprang to my lips when my own family made unfair demands of me, but that I found so difficult to actually utter:no. But then I thought better of it. I had been in this house for less than an hour, and if this was what was being asked of me to facilitate my patient’s happiness… Well, I’d faced worse. I thought of that horrid little plane and tried to be grateful for small mercies, summoning up a sporting smile.
‘Well, at least I won’t get cold,’ I said, rolling my eyes. ‘Maybe I should suggest this get-up to my sister for my bridesmaid’s dress; it’s no worse than that’s bound to be and at least there’s plenty of room to hide cake if I get hungry.’
Angela smiled at me encouragingly, but Nick frowned, then quickly left the room.
‘Have I annoyed him again?’ I asked, beginning to feel irritated by this mercurial man. After all, I had just agreed to their stupid costume with a good grace. Did he ever stay in one mood for longer than two minutes?
Angela shrugged.
‘Don’t worry yourself about him, he’s rather…’
She stopped talking quickly, leaving me curious as to what she had been about to say, when the door opened and he returned, India behind him, looking sheepish.
‘Tell her,’ he said curtly, nodding at me.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘They dropped the Halloween theme when they had to postpone the party. I thought it would be funny if we all turned up dressed as the Addams family.’
‘Did you know?’ I asked Angela and Nick.
She shook her head furiously.
‘No, of course not.’ Then she tutted. ‘Now, I’m going to have to find something else to wear – I was relying on that costume.’
‘I didn’t know either,’ said Nick. ‘But I had my suspicions. Sorry, India doesn’t always know when a joke’s over.’
‘It’s okay,’ I replied, too relieved to feel annoyed. ‘Thanks for getting to the bottom of it. Maybe India would like to wear the Cousin Itt costume as a penance?’
‘Not likely,’ she replied pertly. ‘I’ve got a dress ready in case I was rumbled. Laters!’
She darted out of the room before anyone else could tell her off and Nick, whistling to Steve, followed her. I had to smile: it was nice having someone young around, even if I might have to watch out so I wasn’t pranked by her again.
‘I’m so sorry about that,’ said Angela. ‘You’ve only been here for five minutes. When you interviewed, I didn’t think I’d need to warn you about India.’
‘It’s fine,’ I said. ‘To be honest, I’m just relieved that this house is warmer than the one in London.’
A mental image of that house came to me. It had been at least five storeys, including a basement, and rendered in immaculate white stucco. I could barely afford even to park in that area of London, so I couldn’t begin to imagine how much a house of that size must be worth. Ten million pounds? Twenty? I remembered standing awkwardly in the chilly black and white tiled hallway with its décor of gleaming marble, polished stone and gigantic mirrors, and shivered. It had felt colder inside there than it was outside.
‘We wouldn’t have it any other way,’ replied Angela. ‘Especially Marilise – she likes to be cosy. I was only up in London for a couple of days, and it wasn’t worth firing up the central heating for the entire house, so most of it was arctic.’
‘The sitting room was toasty, though,’ I said, remembering the room, which overlooked the quiet square of enormous Georgian mansions outside. A fire had blazed away in the large, iron grate and the space was completely different from the austere hallway. It was painted a deep shade of red with a thick, cream carpet and two invitingly squashy sofas and I had been immediately more at ease. Angela had plied me with tea and chocolate chip shortbread while explaining a little about the set-up at this house, in Somerset. She was the housekeeper and her husband, Greg, looked after the grounds and did all the little “bits and bobs” around the house.
‘It’s the nicest room in that house,’ said Angela, finally sitting down next to me and taking a macaroon herself. ‘I pretty much live in it when I have to go down to London on business.’ She must have seen me looking curious, because she added, ‘I’m a chartered accountant as well as doing all the dusting.’
I thought I had managed not to let the surprise show on my face, but she must have been used to people underestimating her and smiled gently. ‘People do find my role unusual, but it works for me, and I love this family.’
We had, of course, talked about Marilise’s needs and what my job would entail, but I was eager to find out more about the people I would be living with over Christmas, particularly my patient.
‘So Marilise is nearly ninety, how wonderful.’
‘That’s right, dear, and she’s been fit as a fiddle until recently, but she’s had a series of infections and viruses which have slowed her down. The family normally goes up to London for Christmas as Nick can’t bear being here for it. But Marilise isn’t well enough to travel this year. I’ve been doing all her non-medical care – we’ve had nurses who come in for that side of things – but it’s getting too much for me with the rest of the house to look after and now Christmas coming. There arebound to be guests turning up and I can’t be pulled in so many directions, although I would still like to be involved with her care, and I’ll cover you when you’re not working. Hence the details the agency gave you, for day-to-day nursing care and companionship. I was very impressed by your CV; you’re exceptionally experienced. Most of the applications were from people with only a year or two’s work behind them, and that didn’t seem the right choice for Marilise.’
