What the Nanny Saw by Fiona Neill Read Free Book Online Page B

some suspicion by the dog psychologist that I’d trained him to do this. But no evidence was ever uncovered to substantiate those claims.” He laughed again. “He was particularly fond of shitting in my father-in-law’s shoes. The more expensive, the better.”
    “Why did he do it?” Ali asked, her curiosity overcoming her reticence.
    “The therapist blamed it on us,” said Nick, “as his parents. He even wanted us to do family therapy with the dog. That’s when we opted for residential care.”
    Ali half wondered whether he would be having this conversation with her if he didn’t know about her sister’s history. She quickly decided she was being paranoid and that Nick Skinner was simply trying to put her at ease.
    “It looks like a beautiful wedding,” Ali spluttered, pointing at the photograph she had just put down.
    “We got married in Greece,” Nick explained. “Bryony’s father bought a house in Corfu years ago. We go every summer. Have you been to Greece?”
    “No,” said Ali.
    “Well, you will when you start the job,” said Nick. Then he fell silent, as though unsure what to do next. “How did the interview go?”
    “It hasn’t really happened yet,” said Ali.
    “I read your file,” said Nick awkwardly. “Very impressive. Did Bryony tell you what we’re looking for?”
    “We didn’t really get that far,” said Ali. He signaled toward the table, and Ali followed him back. She noticed that her cigarettes had fallen on the floor beside her chair.
    “I’m a smoker,” confessed Ali.
    “So is Bryony,” Nick said, smiling, “but she won’t admit it to you. She thinks that I don’t know.” He sat down opposite her, removed his tie, and opened up the top two buttons of his shirt. Then he slowly turned his head to each side a couple of times to stretch his neck. There was something vulnerable about seeing him slowly expose himself in this way. The clavicle where the shoulder bones met just below his throat, a fine down of chest hair, and the remnants of a summer tan slowly revealed themselves to her. Ali was used to boys in T-shirts and jeans. Her tutor at university occasionally wore a shirt but never a tie.
    “You don’t mind, do you?” Nick asked when he realized Ali was staring at him. Ali felt herself flush with embarrassment.
    “I thought I should de-suit to look less formal,” said Nick good-naturedly. “But I’ll put the tie back on if it’s too unnerving.”
    She was relieved when Bryony came back into the room and seemed unsurprised to find Nick sitting at the table opposite Ali. She shook her BlackBerry triumphantly in the air.
    “Good news?” Nick inquired.
    “Nothing I can talk about,” said Bryony firmly. “Let’s just say I’ve done a good trade. Closed down one story, and they’ve taken the bait on another about a Russian oligarch who’s on the lookout for a football team. You must be a lucky charm, Ali Sparrow.” Bryony smiled warmly. She was carrying a plate of scrambled eggs that Ali assumed qualified as breakfast, but instead of heading back to the table she put them down beside the dog.
    “He loves the way Malea cooks them,” she said, ruffling the dog’s fur. “Leicester is one of life’s true eccentrics. Do you like dogs? We just assume that people will fall for him immediately.”
    “Mostly,” said Ali, as Leicester jumped down from his silk throne and, with one eye still on Ali, consumed the scrambled eggs.
    Bryony sat down beside Nick. She pulled out a couple of hair ties, and her fox-red hair fell around her face, semi-obscuring her dark, brooding husband. Ali half shut her eyes. It was like looking at the sun coming out from behind a cloud. Bryony glanced down at her watch, a gesture that convinced Ali that she was going through with the rest of the interview only out of politeness. Then her phone rang again. This time Bryony ignored the call. Instead she rapidly began to describe their four children.
    “Jake is almost eighteen.