He thought about what they would do. Tomorrow maybe they would go to the public library together and get some bedtime storybooks. Church on Sunday, of course.

He arrived at the ranch-style house that used to be his home. Verena’s car was not in the driveway: she was not home yet. George parked and went to the front door. From politeness he rang the bell, then let himself in with his key.

The house was quiet. “It’s only me,” he called out. There was no one in the kitchen. He found Jack sitting in front of the TV, alone. “Hi, buddy,” he said. He sat down and put his arm around Jack’s shoulders. “Where’s Nanny Tiffany?”

“She had to go home,” Jack said. “Mommy’s late.”

George controlled his anger. “So you’re on your own here?”

“Tiffany said it’s a mergency.”

“How long ago was that?”

“I don’t know.” Jack still could not reckon time.

George was furious. His son had been left alone in the house at the age of four. What was Verena thinking of?

He got up and looked around. Jack’s weekend case stood in the hall. George checked inside and saw everything necessary: pajamas, clean clothes, teddy bear. Nanny Tiffany had done that before she left to deal with what Jack called her mergency.

He went into the kitchen and wrote a note: “I found Jack alone in the house. Call me.”

Then he got Jack and went out to the car.

Jacky’s house was less than a mile away. When they arrived, Jacky gave Jack a glass of milk and a homemade cookie. He told her all about the cat next door, which came to visit and got a saucer of milk. Then Jacky looked at George and said: “All right, what’s eating you?”

“Step into the living room and I’ll tell you.” They moved to the next room, and George said: “Jack was on his own in the house.”

“Oh, that should not happen.”

“Damn right.”

She overlooked the bad language for once. “Any idea why?”

“Verena didn’t come home at the appointed time, and the nanny had to leave.”

At that moment they heard a squeal of tires outside. They both looked out of the window and saw Verena getting out of her red Jaguar and running up the path to the door.

George said: “I’m going to kill her.”

Jacky let her in. She ran to the kitchen and kissed Jack. “Oh, baby, are you okay?” she said tearfully.

“Yeah,” said Jack nonchalantly. “I had a cookie.”

“Grandma’s cookies are great, aren’t they?”

“You bet.”

George said: “Verena, you’d better come in here and explain yourself.”

She was panting and perspiring. For once she did not appear arrogantly in control. “I was only a few minutes late!” she cried. “I don’t know why that goddamn nanny ran out on me!”

“You can’t be late when you’re looking after Jack,” George said severely.

She resented that. “Oh, like you never were?”

“I never left him alone.”