And now, as moonlight slices towards me around the edges of our bedroom curtains, Hayley’s words twist and tumble towards me. Favourite sort of children. Sweet and funny. Kind employers. Dream location. Incredible accommodation. I have confused and misled her.

She is a lovely girl who must stay working for us. I determine to handle this with discretion.

66

Hayley

I’m lying in bed, unable to sleep. An owl hoots in the distance. I stand up, open the curtains and look out of the window. It’s a full moon, bright and bold in the shadowy sky.

Caprice, were you lying to me? How could you encourage me to make such a fool of myself? Why have you made me spoil my opportunity of working in this environment? I thought we were friends. Why did you play me? Why did I listen? Why did I tell Miles how I felt about him? I should have judged the situation for myself.

67

Miles

After a day at work, unable to concentrate on anything but what I’ve done to encourage our nanny, I give up pretending to work and go home early. I find Mother sitting at the table in the kitchen with Ben and Harry, drinking a cup of tea and nibbling a Welsh cake. She beams across at me as I stand in the doorway. The children are tucking into chicken nuggets and chips, laden with ketchup. That’s all they seem to eat these days, when Mother is looking after them. They are so busy eating they don’t look up.

‘Miles, how lovely to see you home early.’ There is a pause. ‘To what do we owe the pleasure?’

‘Where’s Hayley?’ I reply.

Mother’s smile broadens. ‘She asked for the afternoon off. Said she needed to do some admin.’

I frown. ‘Admin. I see.’

Should I confront her about what she said to Hayley? No. Surely Hayley was making it up to cover her embarrassment? Maybe? Maybe not? I can’t face an argument with Mother right now. As I pour myself a cup of tea and join them at the table, I worry that Hayley is preparing to fly home. About to complain about me to the agency.

‘Well, thanks for taking over, Mother.’

‘Anything I can do to help.’

When my mother and my sons have finished eating, I suggest we watch a film, or a cartoon. Something, anything, to pass the time until Hayley gets back, and I can make things right with her.

‘Would you like to watch Cinderella?’ I ask them.

‘Boring.’

‘Frozen?’

‘Don’t be silly, Daddy.’

‘Bambi?’

‘No. It makes Mummy cry.’

I look across at Mother for help. ‘Kung Fu Panda 3?’ she suggests.

‘Yes, please,’ the boys shriek with excitement.