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harder.
    She
sat watching Mia talk to herself about, well, who knew really, it was as if she
saw things other mortals had no access to, and when the phone rang her wish was
granted. A few minutes sanity in the form of Merrill.
    “I
was thinking Joe and I would bring Thai around tonight.”
    Merrill
was a genius. “I would be your bestest ever friend if you did.”
    “You’re
such a crawler. How’s it going?”
    “I
want my Cameron.”
    “Those
days are over, Aud. Get with the program.”
    “Easy
for you to say, when you finally pop a sprog you have duelling grandmas on
hand.”
    “Yes,
and someone could get killed in the rush. Have you seen how sharp the elbows on
Joe’s mum are? Could take an eye out. Seriously, how’s it going?”
    “They’re
all wonderful.”
    “Fantastic.”
    Audrey
let a cartoon-like sigh rip.
    “Oh.
I see. I’ll bring wine.”
    They
rang off and there was just time to negotiate with Mia about washing her face
and hands—dealing with union reps was easier—before the doorbell went.
    It
wasn’t the next interviewee though. Audrey stood back from the open door,
wanting to get away from the man outside and whatever he was selling without a
fuss. “No, thank you.”
    “Audrey
Bates?”
    That
voice, a kind of rumbly resonance, made her stop. She stepped closer to the door.
He was a good-looking young man in a watermelon coloured polo shirt. There were
four steps between them that made her taller, but not by much, he crowded the
doorway in a block out the light way. It wasn’t fair of those companies that
sold house to house to hire someone like him. If she was older, alone and
unused to issuing instructions that other adults habitually obeyed, she might
be intimidated. “Whatever you’re selling, we don’t need it.”
    “But
you are Audrey Bates?”
    His
voice was like a chocolate coloured Labrador, richly coated and waggy happy. He
was probably an excellent salesman. “Goodbye,” she said, hand to the knob of
the door. She’d close him out. She needed to think about getting a security
screen door.
    “I’m
Reece McGovern.”
    She
stopped, peered at him. He couldn’t be Reece. Reece was a girl’s name, like Lee
and Jessie, like Reece Witherspoon for goodness sake. Women applied for nanny
positions, not men. Certainly not men who looked like The Hulk with a suntan. In
winter.
    “I’m
sorry, what did you say?”
    “I’m
Reece McGovern. I have an interview for the nanny job at 3pm with Audrey
Bates.”
    She’d
read all five résumés backwards, sidewards and often, how could Reece be a man?
“You’re Reece McGovern?”
    He
smiled and he could be the number one salesman, straight to the top of the pack,
billion dollar roundtable, win a trip to the Bahamas. She wanted to be a cocker
spaniel and wag her tail at him. “She spells it with an s.”
    “Sorry?”
Very sorry she’d been that transparent. Audrey adjusted the expression on her
face, hopefully exchanging vaguely horrified for the look Mia got when she
suspected hidden carrots in the mincemeat—considered, with a leaning towards grave.
    He
cocked his head and smiled again. “Reese Witherspoon spells it with an s.”

 
    3:       Witherspoon
     
    There
probably wasn’t much point going in the house. Audrey Bates had already decided
he wasn’t Reese Witherspoon so he couldn’t be Mia’s nanny, manny, au pair,
minder, whatever you wanted to call it.
    Audrey
Bates held the door open, smiling to hide her initial embarrassment. He could
call this whole thing quits now and make it to the beach in time to watch Sky
play her match. That’d earn him points. But then she’d be so big on I told you
so, and the appeal of that was about as attractive as Flip’s morning breath.
    He
hedged his bets, one foot resting on the step above. “I’m not what you
expected.”
    “You
have a terrific résumé .” She pulled it together fast.
    “But
you expected—”
    “To
interview Reece McGovern.”
    Okaaay
then. He was