The Ice Seduction (Ice Romance) (2 page)

3

‘There has to be
something
.’ I put my elbows on Sharon’s desk, and rest my cheek on my hand. My red hair falls forwards onto a mess of paperwork.

Sharon is my a
gent. Most nannies have an agent. That’s how we get work. Sharon rubs shoulders with rich families, and then introduces me to them and takes a cut of my wages. She’s also my friend, too. One of my best friends.

Sharon shakes her head. ‘I’m really sorry.’

I sigh and cup my other cheek.

Sharon’s light brown
eyes look me over with love and concern.

We’re sitting in her garage right now, which she uses as an office.
It has cold concrete walls, smells damp and is chilly all year round. It’s winter now and it’s freezing.

She has a little electric radiator burning away
, but it doesn’t make much difference.

‘Please,’ I beg. ‘There has to be
something
. I’ll do absolutely anything. The worst possible place, I don’t care.’

Sharon’s kohl-
rimmed eyes flick up to the ceiling, and she purses her scarlet-red lips. She’s obsessed with the eighties, and most of the time looks like someone from
Dallas
. Her hair is short and frosted, and every top she owns has shoulder pads.

‘
Mmm …’ Her eyes drift over my shoulder to the closed-up garage door. ‘Well. I suppose there’s always …’

‘Sharon
?’

‘
Hang on,’ says Sharon, turning to her computer. She tippy taps on the keyboard. ‘They haven’t requested a replacement, but … we’ve always sent them one before.’ She frowns at the computer screen. ‘And someone’s just left. So I suppose …’

‘Suppose
?’

‘
I suppose we could try … there’s always Mansfield Castle.’

4

I feel my feet shuffling under the desk. ‘Mansfield
Castle
?’

‘Ye-es,’ says Sharon uneasily
.

‘
Sounds all right,’ I say. ‘I’ve never worked in a castle before.’

Sharon taps
her fingernails against her lip. ‘I send a new girl up there every week, pretty much. And within a few days she phones me in tears, begging to leave.’

‘Why
?’ I ask.

‘The little boy there. He’s …
difficult.’

I smile. ‘There’s no such thing
as a difficult child. Only adults who aren’t understanding enough.’

Sharon nods. ‘
And then there’s the boss …’

‘What about
him?’

‘Um … he’s
…’

‘Sharon!’ My smile gets wider. ‘You’re
blushing
.’

‘Am I?’ Sharon fans her face with her hand.

‘The boss is what?’

‘Well, he’s … very …
sort of strict. I mean he doesn’t suffer fools gladly. He doesn’t have a lot of patience with girls who can’t handle Bertie.’

‘And you’re blushing because?’

Sharon sighs. ‘Okay, and he’s
gorgeous
.’ Her face and neck are going red too, now. She clears her throat. ‘I mean, he’s a very attractive man. His name is Patrick Mansfield. Lord Patrick Mansfield, actually. Have you heard of him?’

I shake my head. ‘Not quite the sort of circles I move in.’

Sharon leans towards me. ‘I think some of the nannies got the hots for him during their placements. For all the good it did them. Lord Mansfield doesn’t have a lot of time for women.’

‘You mean he’s gay
?’ I say.

Sharon laughs. ‘Hardly
. He’s one of the UK’s most marriageable men, according to
Catwalk
magazine. Women throw themselves at him. But he’s something of a man’s man.’

‘Oh really?’ I rai
se an eyebrow.

‘He writes a survival blog. They read it on the radio sometimes. About how to survive in harsh climates. He sleeps rough in the woods and kills animals with his bare hands. That sort of thing.
And of course, his winning gold in the Olympics has made him something of a celebrity.’

‘
He won gold in the Olympics? What was his sport?’

‘Shooting.’

I mull this over. ‘And no one has stayed more than a week so far?’

Sharon shakes her head. ‘No one.
And it’s not just the younger girls. I’ve sent some really mature ladies up there, and they’ve packed their bags within days. One lady quit within a few hours.’

‘What can be so awful about a job that you’d quit within hours?’

‘Like I say. The boy there is difficult.’

‘And like I say, there are no difficult children,’ I say. ‘Only difficult parents. So Patrick must be the difficult one.’

‘
Patrick Mansfield isn’t Bertie’s father.’

‘Oh?’

‘He’s his uncle. Patrick’s younger sister, Anise, had Bertie when she was very young. So Bertie has been passed from place to place his whole life. And this winter, he’s ended up with Uncle Patrick.’

‘It sounds like he needs some
love,’ I say. ‘And Patrick Mansfield – well, I’m sure I can handle him. You know me. I’m not the kind of girl who falls head over heels for someone just because they’re good looking and have a few quid in the bank.’

‘He’s
really
very
gorgeous, you know,’ says Sharon, her eyes drifting back to her computer screen.

‘I think I can handle that too.’

‘The pay is good,’ says Sharon. ‘Double that of our usual placements. And even when girls leave, they’re paid for the whole month. But … there’s something else, too.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Mansfield Castle is a long way away. And I know your younger sister lives with you … ’

I feel icy fingers replace the goo
d feeling I had moments ago. ‘How far? North London? Further?’

‘
Much further. Mansfield Castle is in Scotland.’

5

As
I ride my motorbike back to Central London, I’m deep in thought. Weaving in and out of mid-morning traffic, I’m back in Camden before I realize it.

When I reac
h Camden Market, I hop off my bike and park up.

‘Hey Sera!’ calls out
Tony, one of stallholders.

‘Hey Tony,’ I reply, giving him a wave.
‘Have you seen Danny?’

Tony
comes bouncing out from his stall. ‘Yep. He’s back there. Are you okay? You look … tired.’

‘Just life, I guess.’ I smooth
down my hair and pull my sheepskin jacket tight around myself, shivering in the January wind. The icy ground crackles under my cowboy boots.

‘
I got some herbal relaxation if you want it,’ says Tony.

I smile. ‘
You’ve known me long enough by now Tone. You shouldn’t be doing that stuff so early in the morning. You’ll get yourself a habit.’

Tony
laughs, coughing a little. ‘I already got myself a habit.’

‘Is
Danny okay?’

‘
The police came by earlier.’

‘Uh oh.’

‘They’ll catch him one day. But not today.’

I roll my eyes. ‘That sounds like Danny. He’
s got nine lives and then some.’ I pass through the crowds, treading on cigarette ends and crushed beer cans, and trying not to breathe in the hash smoke floating around the market.

My brother
Danny shivers behind his market stall, wearing his usual uniform of slouchy ripped jeans, woolly jumper and army jacket. He’s smoking a rolled up cigarette.

‘Seza!’ H
e grins, showing his white teeth. He’s good looking, my brother, but his teeth are all chipped and they always look like they’re going to leap out of his mouth. ‘Shouldn’t you be working?’

‘I lost my job,’ I say.
‘Do you know anyone who’s hiring?’

‘Hiring?’ Danny
turns the word over, blowing cigarette smoke up into his reddish brown hair. ‘I mean, I don’t want to be the voice of doom and gloom, but all that ever happens round here is people getting laid off.’

We both turn to look at the crowds
hunting for bargains. You can easily tell the locals from the tourists. The locals have sad faces, unwashed hair and the twitchy, green faces of long-term drug addicts.

‘How did you lose your job?
’ Danny asks.

‘
Mr Carmichael. He tried it on.’

‘
I’ll batter the living shit out of him.’

‘No,
it’s okay. No sense you getting in trouble over it. And he’s rich – he has powerful friends. I always knew he was a creep, anyway. But I never thought he’d actually try something.’

‘So wh
at now? You’ll have no trouble getting a job, right? With your references and all that?’

‘T
here’s no work – at least, not round here. There was one job on offer. But it’s in Scotland. Too far away.’

‘Sco
tland’s not that far,’ says Danny, blowing out another cloud of cigarette smoke. ‘And if it gets you away from this place, that can’t be such a bad thing.’

‘But Wila
—’

‘She’s sixteen, Sez. Same age you were when you left home. She can look after herself.’

I shake my head. ‘Wila’s not like us, Danny. She needs more looking after.’

‘Maybe she’s had to
o much looking after,’ says Danny. ‘Maybe she needs less looking after and more fending for herself.’

‘I don’t think she’
s ready for that yet.’ I sigh. ‘I don’t know how I’m going to pay her fees this month. I phoned the school and asked for more time. But they said no.’

‘Christ,’ says Danny. ‘I wish I could lend you the money
—’

‘
Even if you could, I wouldn’t take it,’ I say. ‘You need it yourself. You’re a single parent.’

‘You’re kind of
a single parent too. You do everything for that little sister of ours.’ Danny throws his cigarette to the floor and stamps on it with a holey Converse. ‘Look. If you’ve been offered a job away from this place, I say take it. What is there for you around here? Stay here and you’ll end up like all the rest of us, smoking too much, drinking too much and barely holding life together. What do you have to stay for?’

‘Wila,
’ I say. ‘And the band.’

‘Oh come on. If we go anywhere with that, it’ll be more luck than anything else. You’re the only talent we have. You could eas
ily go it alone. Your voice is magic.’

‘There ar
e plenty of good singers,’ I mutter, fiddling with my furry sleeves.

‘Not like you there aren’t.’

‘It doesn’t matter anyway. I can’t leave Wila. You know I can’t.’

Danny
frowns. ‘Why don’t you ask her? Ask Wila if it’s okay for you to go up to Scotland for a bit. I mean, it sounds like if you don’t take this job, she won’t be able to stay at her school anyway. None of us want that. She’s talented like you’re talented. You two have a chance of getting out of this place, and that school is Wila’s ticket.’

I bite my lip. ‘I just don’t think I can leave her. She’s so young.’

‘Maybe not as young as you think.’

6

When Wila gets home from school, I make her Marmite on toast and sit her on the sofa. We don’t have a dining table, so all our meals are eaten here – meaning the bright-red sofa throw is always covered in crumbs.

‘I got offered a job today,’ I tell
her. ‘But it was too far away. You wouldn’t want me to work somewhere miles away, would you?’

Wila shrugs. ‘
I could cope. As long as it wasn’t forever.’

That throws me
a little. ‘Really?’

‘
Sure.’

‘But what about
cooking and cleaning and sorting the fire and all of that? You wouldn’t be able to manage it. Not with all your school work and rehearsals too.’

‘
Maybe you wouldn’t have to worry about that.’

‘Why not?’

Wila has a little secretive smile on her face. ‘I applied for a boarding scholarship.’

‘A boarding scholarship?’

She nods. ‘They offer one every year. For day girls who can’t afford to board. And guess what? I got it.’

My mouth opens and closes. ‘
You … wow! Lala that’s … that’s great! How come you didn’t mention this before?’

She shrugs.
‘I wasn’t sure I was going to take it. I like being at home with you. But if you’re going somewhere, and I’d be here all alone …’

‘And you’d be okay with that?’ I ask. ‘Being
a boarder?’

Wila nods
at her toast. ‘The only thing that makes me unhappy right now is being left out for being a day girl.’

I look at her sweet, innocent little face. ‘I don’t know, Lala. Th
is is a big thing we’re talking about. You’ve never lived away from me before.’

‘I know
,’ says Wila. ‘But maybe I need to grow up a bit.’

I laugh. ‘Danny said
something like that today. Do you think I baby you?’

Wila looks at her plate
. ‘Sometimes. I mean, I know you love me and everything. But … I think you worry too much. I’m older than you think I am.’

‘My little sis, a
ll grown up.’

‘Maybe n
ot
all
grown up. But I’m getting there.’

‘
I always promised myself that whatever happened, I’d make sure you stayed at that school. Like Danny says, it’s your ticket out of here. Maybe if you boarded, we could cope with a little time apart. Just for a little while … ’

I’m saying that more to reassure myself than Wila.

‘Course we can Pheeny,’ says Wila, flashing me her cute little smile.

‘
Okay. Well. Um. I guess I should phone Sharon.’

‘How long will you be away for?’ Wila asks.

‘If what Sharon says is anything to go by, not long,’ I laugh. ‘All the other nannies have quit within a week.’

‘It must be a horrible job if so many people have quit.
’

‘Maybe
,’ I say. ‘But I’m tough. I’m sure I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.’

‘I know
Pheeny,’ says Wila. ‘We always are.’