A few years ago I was working as a nanny in Sydney. My employer, Sylvia, was a single, immensely successful barrister. She was also utterly gorgeous, with a flawless complexion, luminous feline green eyes and a mane of tumbling, red curls.
Sylvia also had a vicious temper. She would frequently lash out at me and I quickly learned to stay well out of her way when she had her claws out. Her daughter Isabel was four and just as gorgeous and as vicious as her mother.
Isabel simply adored her mother. All she wanted was to be with her, but Sylvia worked long hours and often many days would pass before Isabel even got a glimpse of her.
Isabel blamed me for her mother’s absence and thought that if I wasn’t around, her mother would spend more time with her. Sylvia must have preferred that Isabel believed all fault lay with nanny and did nothing to dissuade her daughter of this notion. Thus, I was marooned for long days on end with an angry and spiteful little girl who did everything in her power to make nanny go away.
I was miserable, but I was also heavily in debt. Sylvia paid well and I could not afford to just walk away.
Each Saturday, we would stroll to the local beachside cafe for breakfast. Sylvia and Isabel would promenade ahead, a veritable vision of the perfect mother and daughter. I would trail behind dutifully, tottering under the week’s supply of newspapers and glossy magazines for Sylvia and colouring books for Isabel.
One Saturday morning, Sylvia purchased two instant scratchies from the newsagent, one for herself and one for Isabel to scratch while waiting in the cafe for breakfast. We had just sat down at the table when Sylvia’s mobile rang for the third time that morning. On cue, Isabel instantly began to mewl piteously. Sylvia shot me an exasperated look and moved away to take the call at a far table.
In an attempt to distract Isabel, I passed her a key and encouraged her to start on her scratchie. She sourly scratched the cover of the Cleo magazine instead. Knowing better than to stop her, I scratched her scratchie for her.
To my shock, I saw I had uncovered the jackpot, the $100,000 prize!
I stared down at the scratchie on the table before me. Sylvia was still talking into the mobile and Isabel had started defacing a second magazine. Without thinking, I automatically pushed the magazine out of her reach.
Isabel jumped down from the chair, ran to her mother squealing and clung tightly to her legs. Sylvia glared at me over the top of Isabel’s red curls. I heard her say loudly into the mobile that it was high time she got a decent nanny with a modicum of intelligence and ability.
I dug about in my bag for a similar scratchie I had purchased and scratched a few days ago. Luckily, it was still there. Without hesitation I switched the scratchies, just in the nick of time. Sylvia snapped her mobile closed and angrily stalked back to the table, Isabel tearfully triumphant behind her.
Before Sylvia could say a word, I announced that I didn’t think the arrangements were working for any of us and that I was resigning, effective immediately. Then, with a rush of joy, I walked out of the cafe to start the rest of my life.
Picture posed by model.
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