‘Amanda, why is the Wi-Fi so slow?’ You’re in rural Scotland… Everything’s a bit slower-paced, especially the internet.
By four, I wondered if my smile looked as forced as it felt. I escaped to the bathroom and debated my professional grin until I no longer knew what my smile should look like. Probably not the way it did.
It was only when I realised the children had gone suspiciously quiet that I felt worry clawing at my stomach.
Quiet kids were often a part of the package with wealthy clients, many had long learned to be seen and not heard, or were shushed away by well-paid nannies, but not The Petersens. They’d left their nannies in Australia, and their children were taking full advantage of the feral opportunities.
The halls held no clues as to where the children had disappeared to.
‘Mrs Petersen,’ I asked, seeing the matriarch sitting by the fire while reading a book. ‘Where are the children?’
‘I’m not sure. They followed the gardener.’
‘For a walk?’
‘To see the donkey, perhaps. The children have been most excited to meet it.’
The donkey. Of course.
The air was bitingly sharp, a thin mist rolling up over the cliffs and emerging through the trees. I made my way around to the gardens as excited babbling met my ears. And there, like a cheery woodland sprite come chiselled Michelangelo statue, sat Henry.
Excitedly regaling some story, clippers in one hand, and a bundle of holly and pine in the other, those blond curls looked wilder than ever. A crate of colourful ribbons sat at his feet, spilling over like silken spaghetti. The six children clustered around him, eyes wide with sheer idolisation.
Merv the donkey stood amongst the chaos, chomping on a child’s pine cuttings while she squealed in delight.
‘Oh, good, even the donkey is here.’
Henry gave me one of those pulse-fluttering, sparkly-toothed smiles as I spoke. ‘Afternoon, boss.’
‘I amnotyour boss,’ I muttered, stepping over green clippings and ‘What exactly is happening here?’
‘We’re wreath-making, the kids were antsy, so I thought I’d put them to work.’
‘They’re guests, not elves.’
‘We made paper chains too. And found a load of pom-poms and tinsel.’ A child piped up, hair full of pine needles.
One of the twins held up a garish-looking sparkly bit of tat. ‘Amanda! We’re going to hang them on the big tree!’
I stared. And inhaled slowly.Deeply. Trying to find some semblance of cool before I emitted enough flames to incinerate Henry.
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ I said.
Before I could build my argument, Rita appeared, wrapped in a tartan shawl. Her eyes softened, wet around the edges and full of wonder.
‘Oh, how lovely. It’s just like when I was little.’ she whispered. Her fingers danced over the multicoloured tinsel, tousled a child’s hair and then petted Merv’s snout.
Henry stood. ‘Thought it might be a nice change of pace.’
‘It’s perfect.’
Which was when Merv turned his big old eyes on me.
Or rather… toward my coat.
Myvery expensive, Italian, tailored coat that had cost me an absolute bomb, and I was still paying off monthly.
‘Don’t even think about it,’ I warned as he stepped closer, his lips reaching for my sleeve. I stumbled back and hit a wheelbarrow, barely catching myself. Giving the donkey time to nab the bottom of my coat.
