The Nanny Read Free Page A

was just telling Sandra Jones in the shop—by the baked beans—and I overheard.”
    Jo was even more horrified.
    â€œWell done, Sheila!” congratulated Shaun.
    â€œBut Mr. Weatherspoon’s three-hundred years old!” exclaimed Jo.
    â€œAre we talking a quick snog or the full monty?” asked Shaun.
    â€œThe ‘ full monty ?’” repeated Sheila. “Is that what you builders call sexual intercourse now?”
    Shaun took a deep breath. “I am not a builder, I own a construc—”
    â€œShouldn’t we tell the police or something?” asked Jo. “Surely it’s illegal.”
    â€œBloody should be,” said James. “Maxine Black’s a heifer.”
    Shaun laughed and nodded at his friend over his pint, granting him a point in their doubles match against the ladies.
    â€œHe’s so old ,” repeated Jo. “Won’t it kill him?”
    â€œI’ve done the math,” said Sheila. “Weatherspoon’s not that old. When we started in juniors, he was only twenty-one.”
    They all stopped as this sank in.
    â€œOh, my God,” whispered Jo eventually. “He was younger than we are now.”
    â€œThat’s right,” said Sheila. “Barely grown up himself.”
    â€œAnd now,” continued Jo, catapulting off her emotional trampoline and landing flat on her arse, “he’s so old he needs sex with children to remind him he’s alive.”
    â€œShe’s seventeen,” corrected Sheila. “And been having sex—or full monty —as it’s known in the elite world of construction—since she was twelve.”
    â€œI think I’m going to be sick,” said Jo.
    â€œMe too,” mumbled James. “She was like two heifers then.”
    â€œWhy are you going to be sick?” Shaun asked Jo.
    â€œBecause we’re older than Mr. Weatherspoon was when he taught us!” cried Jo. “And we thought he was nearly dead then. That makes us officially old.”
    â€œToo right, babe.” Shaun winked. “You’ll be having nippers of your own soon.”
    Sheila gasped dramatically. “Oh, Jo!” she cried. “I think Shaun just proposed. How sweet !”
    â€œWho wants another round?” asked James.
    â€œFor the love of God!” shouted Jo. “I am having a nervous breakdown here. I am twenty-three! I have peaked! All I’ve got to look forward to is illness and comfortable shoes.”
    There was a pause.
    â€œDon’t worry, old girl” said James. “You’ve still got the legs of a filly.”
    â€œRight,” said Jo, standing up. “I’m going home.”
    Â 
    Twenty minutes later, Shaun, Sheila, and James were satisfied that they’d persuaded Jo to stay by using sensitive, cogent arguments. The fact that her only alternative was a long evening with her parents never occurred to them.
    It was nearly eleven when she finally extricated herself from them by promising that she really did want to be alone. She left Sheila flirting with the lads in the corner and Shaun thrashing James at pool, and wandered slowly back to her parents’ house, trying to savor the silence, the night sky, and the crisp smell of promise she usually loved about spring nights.
    As a child, Jo had always been near the top of her class. Encouraged by enthusiastic teachers, she had dreamed of studying one day surrounded by spires and history, in the company of fellow enthusiasts and inspiring geniuses. She had no idea what subject she wanted to study, just that she wanted a university education.
    Then at the age of thirteen, while watching a documentary with her parents one school evening, she discovered that there was a subject called anthropology. A whole subject about studying people and how they functioned within a society! She had instantly announced that that was what she’d study when she was a grown-up. Her mother had