I looked around. “If things go to shit in the ballroom, this is our easiest route out. There’s a back room leading to an outside door.” Jenny had found an old floor plan online, which we were now well versed in.
At the very back of the library was a heavy oak door. “Let’s give this a try.” I turned the handle and it loudly swung open to reveal a small snug filled with a few ratty old armchairs.
“What are you doing here?” A woman in her fifties was staring at us. On the floor were two toddler boys plugged into iPads.
“We’re looking for the changing facilities.” I tilted Reggie slightly toward them to prove we had a real live baby with us.
“It’s right by the ballroom.” The woman saw me looking at the children and moved to stand in front of them. “You’d better head back so you don’t miss any more of Bells’s talk.”
The bigger kid was wearing a Spider-Man T-shirt. He had ruffled blond hair and a couple of moles on his right cheek. I stared at him. “We don’t call them moles, we call them beauty spots, as they just add to his gorgeous good looks.”
I knew this boy!
The smaller kid had luscious golden locks that were half up in a man bun. Or I guess boy bun. “Our homemade goat’s milk hair mask is what gives his hair this beautiful shine.” They were brothers!
I hadn’t recognized them straightaway, as I’d only ever seen them with wooden toys or chasing after chickens while dressed in matching checked shirts.
Bells’s middle two boys.
On devices.
This was just great.
“These are Bells’s children?”
I pointed at them.
“They’re actually on a mindfulness app,” she said just as the unmistakable sounds of the Spider-Man theme tune rang out. She winced.
“And you work for Bells as…?”
“I’m Bells’s…helper.”
“You mean nanny?”
“No, that’s not a word we’d use.”
“But you help her with the children.”
“Among other things.”
I shook my head. “You’re telling me that she’s out there implying she’s winning at parenting through mindfulness and dedication and not missing a second of her children’s lives, but really she’s cheating? She has ananny?”
The door to the outside swung open.
“Have you seen the sterilizer?” Another woman walked in, clutching a baby. Bells’s baby.
I laughed. “Oh, wow—two nannies! And not a helpful granny in sight!”
“Please, you can’t tell anyone about this,” said Nanny Number One. “Bells’s mother moved to Barbados a while ago.”
“Probably to avoid the grandchildren,” muttered Nanny Number Two.
“She should be ashamed of herself,” I said. “Making other women feel inadequate for not doing enough. You should write an exposé.”
The two women glanced at each other.
“We’ve signed NDAs,” said the first nanny.
