Nanny for the Neighbors: Chapter 9

Six hours later, I step into the paediatrician’s clinic, closely followed by Beth and a very grouchy Cami. I’m still foggy from my nap, and my whole body aches. I had a long shift last night.

It’s pretty in here; the walls are pale yellow and covered in decals of animals. There’s a little playhouse in one corner of the room. Two blonde toddlers are running in and out of it, waving at each other through the windows.

I grit my teeth, my shoulders tensing.

I hate places like this. I spent most of my childhood getting dragged through doctors’ offices by my parents. Now the brightly coloured posters and smiling woodland creatures on the walls just look sinister, not cheerful.

Beth carries Cami up to the desk. She’s gotten changed out of Jack’s sweatshirt, and is now wearing a pair of tight blue jeans that hug her hips, and a little pink tank top. She leans over the desk to talk to the receptionist, and a shaft of sunlight spilling through the front window catches in her red hair, lighting up her curls a bright, sunsetty orange. My breath catches in my chest. I can barely look away.

I’ve seen Beth before, in the lobby or the laundromat, but for some reason, she never really caught my attention. She’s so far from my normal type. I usually pick up girls in clubs or bars, but Beth seems far too soft-spoken and sweet for a one-night-stand. She has a wholesome, apple-pie, girl-next-door vibe that makes my mouth water.

As I watch, she flags down the receptionist. “Hi,” she says politely, “we have an appointment for Camilla Ray?”

The woman nods, leaning over the desk to wave at Cami. “Oh, she is adorable. Are you the parents?” She smiles across at me—and then freezes, dead in place. Her cheeks colour.

Shit. Please don’t tell me she recognises me. Not here. Not now. I drop my eyes, pretending to be incredibly interested in the leaflets spread over the desk.

Beth clears her throat. “I’m actually the child’s nanny. I believe a ‘Sebastian Bright’ has already called ahead?”

The woman’s eyes widen, and she nods. “Ah, yes. I remember. He’s made us aware of your situation. What’s your name?”

“Bethany Ellis.”

Her eyes hop across to me again. Her blush deepens. “And yours, sir?”

“Do we have to sign Cami in, or anything?” I ask.

“Oh, um. No.” The receptionist passes a form to me. “Just fill this in, please. I suppose you might not know all the answers, so just do as much as you can.”

“Great.” I force myself to smile. “Do you have a pen?”

“Ah, yes. Let me just see.” She stirs through her pen pot, pulling out a black biro, then shoots me another assessing look. “I’m sorry, but are you Ran—”

“Absolutely not,” I tell her, grabbing the biro and following Beth to the waiting area. We both sit down in a pair of bright green plastic chairs.

Beth pulls Cami onto her lap and reaches for a picture book from the pile on a nearby table. “Wanna read a story?” She asks Cami, who ignores her, staring around the room with huge eyes. Beth isn’t deterred. “This is one of my favourites,” she says, flipping open the book. “The Very Hungry Caterpillar. It’s a classic.” She starts to read it aloud, settling back in her chair. Our arms brush.

I swallow, looking down at the yellow form. It’s double-sided, and there must be at least sixty questions on it. Gripping the biro tightly, I fill in Cami’s name, date of birth, and sex. Then I just stare at the printed words until all the letters blur.

I can’t read most of the questions. The font is tiny and faded. The whole form looks like it’s been typed out on a typewriter that’s running out of ink.

For fuck’s sake.

“Okay?” Beth asks, noticing my pause.

“What do I put here?” I stab the paper at random. She glances over.

“Evidence of developmental or learning disabilities, check yes or no. She’s too young to answer that.” She claps Cami’s hands together. “Aren’t you? You’re still too tiny!”

Cami giggles.

Right. Of course. I check the no box. Beth looks over my shoulder. “Oh, hon, you spelled her name wrong. It’s one m and two ls.” She shuffles in her seat. “Hang on, her birth certificate is in my bag.” Holding Cami with one arm, she hooks the page out of her purse. “Here.”

I nod, my face burning as I make the correction. I spelled her freaking name wrong. Jesus, Beth must think I’m a total idiot.

A child’s scream suddenly echoes down the hallway, coming from one of the doctor’s offices.

I look up. “What the fu—what was that?” I demand.

Beth is currently enacting the scene where the Very Hungry Caterpillar eats literally fucking everything, and is pretending to nibble on Cami’s pigtail. The cry comes again, loud and scared, and she doesn’t even react.

I sit up, alarm running through me. “Beth.”

“Hm?”

“Why is that kid crying? What the Hell are they doing to it?”

She frowns. “Oh, he’s probably just getting a jab. Maybe a blood draw.”

The screaming gets louder. I run a hand over my face. I don’t like this at all. I don’t like this place.

“What if they want to do something to her that we don’t like?” I blurt out. “Can we take her and leave?”

Beth stares at me. “What do you mean? What would they do to her?”

I open my mouth, but before I can come up with an answer, a door in the corridor opens. A grey-haired woman with a stethoscope around her neck steps out. “Camilla Ray?” She calls.

I don’t say anything.

Beth gives me a weird look. “Here,” she says, standing. I take a deep breath and follow her into the open surgery door.

The doctor smiles kindly as we step into the sterile-looking office, cooing at Cami. “Let’s have a look at you. Oh, you’re a little chubby one, aren’t you?”

“Is that bad?” I ask doubtfully. I’m not putting a six-month-old on a diet, for God’s sake. How would that even work? She just drinks milk.

The woman shakes her head. “She’ll grow out of it. Some babies are just born a little fatter. I’d always rather see a sturdy baby than a weak one.” She pats the padded table. “Alright. Hop on up, my love.”

Beth lays Cami carefully down onto the table, and then we both stand by as the doctor runs her through a whole gamut of tests. Cami gets weighed, measured, poked and prodded. The whole time, the doctor peppers me with questions I don’t know the answer to.

“Has she started teething?” She asks, swabbing Cami’s cheek for the DNA test.

I shrug. “Not sure.”

“Hm. What about crawling? Can she roll over?”

“I don’t know.”

The woman gives me a hard look. I feel like shit. Yeah, it’s not my fault that I don’t know this stuff; but someone should, for God’s sake. Someone should care enough about her to follow all her milestones.

The appointment ends with the doctor giving Cami her shots. As she preps the needle, Cami’s good mood immediately dissolves. She starts to cry lustily, as if she can sense what’s coming. My heart just about breaks as I watch the tears roll down her cheeks. She looks scared, and it’s fucking with my head.

“Oh, dear,” the doctor says cheerily. “We almost made it. Right, we’re going to need to hold her down.”

I stare at the woman. “What?”

“Just pop your hand on her foot, stretch out her leg for me.”

I stare down at the sobbing baby girl in front of me. Her cheeks are pink and wet, and she’s squirming, trying to get away from the doctor. My throat closes. “Can’t we do it some other time? She’s scared.”

“Trust me, no matter when we do this, she’s not going to like it. Better to just get it out of the way now.”

I take a deep breath and nod, pressing one hand to the centre of Cami’s chest. “It’s okay,” I tell her quietly. “It will hurt, but only for a little bit. And then we can go home.”

She cries louder. I’m not surprised. ‘Going home’ is a pretty shitty incentive, in this case. What does she have at home? No mother, no cot, no toys—just three bachelors and a bloody car seat.

This poor girl.

Beth tries to distract Cami, kneeling next to the table and popping kisses on her stomach while I stroke back the strands of hair clinging to her wet cheeks. She screams even louder. “It’s okay,” I tell her again. “You’ll be fine. I promise. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

Cami looks up at me, her eyes red and teary, then buries her face in my shirt. I don’t know if she’s hiding, or she wants comfort, or she’s waiting for me to pick her up. Either way, I can feel the blood draining out of my face. I can’t do this. I can’t.

“Cy?” Beth puts a hand on my arm. “Hey, do you need to sit down? Are you scared of needles?”

I grit my teeth. “No.”

“You’re all white.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“Great. Ginger jokes.” She studies my face. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

I shake my head. “I’m fine.”

“Are you ready?” The doctor asks. “Keep her still. She’s not going to like this.”

Swallowing hard, I press Cami down, stretching out her leg and pinning it to the table.

She writhes and sobs and screams. I have to look away as the doctor pricks her with the needle, and she starts to roar with pain.