The Nanny Read Free

Comfort and lemonade! I want a…a Bloody Mary!”
    She could imagine the stunned silence. The confusion in Shaun’s eyes. And the ripple effect—others would feel forced to reconsider their own drinks. It was too much to think about. She could see the piece in the Niblet Herald now—
    Local Girl Changes Drinks Order
Her Parents Are Too Shocked to Talk
    â€œNiblet-upon-Avon just isn’t the kind of place where this sort of thing happens,” said the landlord yesterday…
    On the other hand, she thought, Shaun might be treating her to some surprise champagne. As he turned and approached, she offered him a big smile. He plonked down one Southern Comfort and lemonade and one pint of Guinness on the table with a grand flourish. The flourish, she realized (downward “yo”), was her birthday treat. As he returned to the bar to collect the pints for James and Sheila, Jo briefly considered pouring them all over his head.
    Before Jo and Shaun had finished their first swig, James and Sheila, the other half of the gang, appeared by the table. They took off their coats and settled down for the evening.
    Sheila had been Jo’s girlfriend and life-event gauge for the best part of ten years, and by miraculous coincidence, James, her longtime boyfriend had been best mates with Shaun at school. Miraculous coincidences were considerably less so in such a small village. The foursome had become an institution almost before their individual relationships had.
    â€œYou’ll never guess,” breathed Sheila, all flushed cheeks and bright eyes.
    â€œWhat?” asked Shaun without turning round, eyes fixed firmly on his pint.
    Sheila moved to her seat next to Jo, grinning at each of them in turn, leaving a dramatic pause before answering. Meanwhile, James hitched up his chinos and sat down next to Shaun, opposite Sheila.
    â€œAh, the ubiquitous Mr. Casey,” he greeted Shaun, as if Sheila hadn’t spoken.
    â€œAh, the ubiquitous word ‘ubiquitous,’” answered Shaun, pushing James’s pint toward his friend.
    â€œAh, the ubiquitous word ‘word,’” responded James, taking his pint.
    Jo watched them raise their pints, elbows jutting outward to claim man space. She didn’t think she’d ever heard Shaun and James actually have a conversation. They just had endless game-set-and-matches using their tongues and brains instead of rackets and ball. She wondered what would happen if they ever had anything to actually communicate to each other. They’d probably spontaneously combust.
    The men eventually put their pint glasses down and wiped their mouths.
    â€œAh,” started James again, “the ubiquitous pint—”
    â€œShut up, James,” cut in Sheila, “or I’ll knife you.”
    James shut up.
    â€œHey, Sheila,” said Shaun. “Just say what’s on your mind.”
    â€œHah!” exclaimed Sheila. “You’d never recover, old man.”
    James mumbled something incoherent into his pint, and Jo thought she caught the word “harpy,” but couldn’t be sure.
    Sheila turned to Jo and gave her a present.
    â€œIt’s crap, and you’ve probably got one.”
    â€œWow!” exclaimed Jo. “You shouldn’t have! Shall I open it now or—?”
    â€œSo!” exclaimed Sheila. “I swear! You’ll never guess!”
    Jo put her present on the floor by her bag.
    â€œWhat?” she asked.
    â€œMaxine Black and…” dramatic pause…“ Mr. Weatherspoon .”
    Sheila got the reaction she wanted, even from Shaun. Even the lads in the corner gasped. Budsie stopped drinking for a moment. They all knew Mr. Weatherspoon. Everyone in the village knew Mr. Weatherspoon, religious studies teacher, with a nice line in Aran jumpers and the hairiest forearms this side of the Midlands. Jo was horrified.
    â€œI’ve only just found out,” rushed Sheila. “Maxine