I went to my own room, glancing in at Carson on the way, where he lay calmly in his cot, staring at his feet. I took my pink suitcase down from the wardrobe, thinking how much I had changed from the girl who’d packed it back in England, crossed the Atlantic full of hope and anticipation. I knew there was a bottle of liquid paracetamol in the side pocket – the nanny forums had recommended bringing one with me. However, when I took it out, the bottle was almost empty. I frowned at it for a moment. I’d bought it at the chemist’s in the airport and I’d never opened it. But somebody had.

When I went back in, Madison was already asleep, her chest rising and falling. I laid a light hand on her head – still hot. I lifted out Carson and carried him downstairs, without a peep from him. Somehow I didn’t want to leave him alone. With him on my lap, floppy and acquiescent, I sat at the computer in the TV room and googled does paracetamol make kids sleepy. I learned that yes, it was sometimes given to make them tired, and more docile. Helps with bedtime, someone said. They sleep through the night better. But then I found a more official site that said this wasn’t recommended – it was paracetamol, after all, and could cause liver toxicity. It should only be given very rarely, for serious fever.

I’d been living with the Safrans for barely two months, and neither child had been sick, in the warm climate of LA. The bottle should not have been empty, even with two children. Troubled, I stood up, walking back and forth with the baby against my chest, patting his back. His little arms around my neck, his head lolling on me. Trusting. Carson trusted me to keep him safe. The trouble was, I didn’t know how to do that. I was too young, too naïve. What could I do? The agency would be no help. I’d have to talk to David. He was at least sane – or so I thought. He’d understand.

I let myself entertain that brief fantasy again, David and I on the beach, a patterned rug on the sand. Myself in shorts, splashing sparkling water to the sky, Carson toddling towards me from his father’s arms. I catch him, lift him to the sun. He laughs. He’s mine. He says, Mummy. Where was Madison in all this? I didn’t think. It was only a fantasy, after all. I was just getting attached to the baby.

I sat down with a sleeping Carson in front of the big TV, and waited for David or Abby to come home. As long as he was in my arms, I could keep him safe. Couldn’t I?

Rachel

Rachel