I follow Saffron up the spiral staircase, along a landing decorated with a combination of modern art and landscapes, through a mock-Georgian doorway, into the nanny’s accommodation. I exhale in admiration, as I look at a boudoir with a curved window that drips with what must be thousands and thousands of pounds’ worth of rich red-and-gold-striped silk. There’s a four-poster bed with red silk curtains and a matching counterpane. A four-poster bed? Silk? For the nanny? My breath escapes from my body like a waterfall. I have to get this job. I will never find a better one in the UK. Not only is the room I am standing in lavish in its soft furnishings, it also has a generous sitting area with two armchairs, a two-seater sofa and a fifty-inch TV. And there’s a kitchenette with a minifridge, microwave, kettle and hob. I am practically salivating.

‘There isn’t an oven,’ Saffron apologises, ‘but you’re welcome to use the main kitchen whenever you want.’

‘It’s fabulous,’ I gush.

Even if the children are monsters, I determine to fall in love with them as we move across the bedroom to the bathroom. It has the full complement: toilet, bidet, shower cubicle, ornate basin with a cabinet and full-length mirror. An extravagant claw-footed bath. A black and white marble floor.

‘It’s so lovely. I’ve never seen accommodation as special as this.’

Saffron smiles proudly. ‘I chose the décor.’ Then she shakes her head and her face tightens. ‘But Caprice doesn’t like it. She says I should have chosen a floral pattern for the bed.’

Caprice. The woman downstairs. The mother-in-law.

‘Come and meet the boys,’ Saffron continues, suddenly keen to move on.

Please. Please, God, let me get on with the kids, I pray silently.

I walk downstairs with Saffron, and together we step into the playroom, where two skinny blond boys are sitting on the sofa watching TV. So like Saffron, they look as if they have been cloned from her, no man involved. As soon as we enter the room they jump off the sofa and run towards us.

‘Mummy, Mummy,’ one of them squeaks.

Saffron bends down and takes them both in her arms. When they have all finished hugging, their eyes turn to me.

‘I want you to meet Hayley, your new nanny,’ Saffron says, smiling.

My stomach leaps. New nanny? Am I employed already? They stand wide-eyed, staring up at me.

‘Would you like me to read you a story?’ I ask.

‘Can we have The Gruffalo? Granny says it’s too babyish for us, but we love it.’

Granny. Caprice, again? She seems to have a lot of influence in this house.

‘I can’t see why not. What do you think, Mummy?’ I ask.

‘Great idea,’ Saffron replies as she switches off the TV.