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From Winamop.com
The Babysitter
by Joyce Walker
“You’re sure you don’t mind giving up a Saturday evening?” Elaine asked, ushering her into the sitting room.
“Of course not.” Jane said, “I don’t have anything special to do and Damian’s very good. He never wakes up while you’re out.”
When they were ready to leave she scribbled an address down on a piece of paper, “I don’t have a phone number I’m afraid, but if there’s an emergency we’re only two doors down.”
That night was the night Damian proved that even good toddlers have their off times. He started screaming ten minutes after his parents left the house and wouldn’t be pacified. An offer of a drink resulted in a cup flying across the bedroom and all his favourite toys went the same way.
She tried walking round the house rocking him, which seemed to help for a while, but as soon as she put him down again the screaming returned. Even the cardinal sin of feeding him chocolate biscuit didn’t help. The only audible word amongst all the sobbing was, “Mummy.”
It took an hour and a half for her to decide she just couldn’t take any more.
“If it’s Mummy you want, I suppose we’ll have to go and get her, won’t we?”
Dressing him was an ordeal, her inexpert hands struggling against his kicking and screaming and she was glad she didn’t have to struggle him into his winter pram-suit. After ten minutes of trying to get him into his pushchair while he made himself as rigid as possible, she gave up and resigned herself to the fact that she would have to carry him.
Even though it wasn’t far by the time she arrived at her destination, her arms were aching and her nerves more than a little frayed.
1 Barnes Close, turned out to be a basement flat and she knew she was at the right place almost as soon as she left the house the noise from there was so loud. She had doubts about the bell she rang and the door-knocker she banged being heard, so she also tried shouting through the letter box.
A muffled voice from within said something she could only interpret as a request to turn the music down, for the volume became bearable and his words clearer,
“It sounds like we’ve woken someone’s kid.”
The American accent took her by surprise, but not half as much as the face it belonged to.
“Jane?”
“Danny?”
In that moment she was transported back to her college exchange in The US.
“Draw your picture for a dollar?”
He was sitting on the college steps and when she turned at the sound of his voice he smiled broadly at her.
“Sorry,” she replied, her English accent contrasting sharply with his American one, “I don’t have one, but I’ll give you an English fifty pence piece if you can show me the way to the Principal’s office.”
He got to his feet, still smiling and tucked his sketch-pad under his arm.
“The things a guy’ll do, to eat,” he said.
He was taller than her and slim, but he didn’t look at all like a man on the verge of starvation. Slipping his pencils into his jacket pocket he held out his hand in greeting.
“Danny Roberts,” he said, “and you must be the English Rose the halls have been buzzin’ with talk about.”
She took his hand inside her clammy one.
“Jane Harper.”
It was to be the first of many meetings during her stay. His work-hard play-hard and only sleep when there’s nothing better to do, philosophy, was something she found appealing. As was the way he lived on the edge of trouble and almost always escaped unscathed, except where landladies were concerned.
He seemed to move from one rented room to another with appalling regularity and when she teased him about it he’d laugh and say,
“Can I help it if all the landladies in this town dislike modern jazz?”
“I doubt it’s the music that puts them off,” she replied, “Just the decibels you play it at.”
Looking back, later, she would reflect that her year as an exchange student would have been very different without Danny.
He took her everywhere, showed her everything; parties, dances, art galleries and museums, he seemed equally at home at all of them.
When, inevitably she felt like a lost little girl a long way from home, he was always there to give her the shoulder she needed and would drive miles to find an ‘English’ fish and chip shop. A taste of home that would make her even more homesick, but something she found so touching that she would try to hide her tears behind a smile and hope he wouldn’t see through it.
She never quite fooled him, though, this blue-eyed, blonde-haired art student with a smile that could make her heart somersault. So he’d take her for a walk along the beach with its rocky outcrops and rugged Atlantic coast beauty, always finding a secluded spot, so that if she should break down and cry, there would be no one to watch. Then he’d put his arms around her and hold her close while they looked out over the bay.
“Somewhere across that expanse of water is your home,” he’d say, quietly, “and it won’t be long before you’re back there again and Danny Roberts will just be the guy who showed you America, a vague and pleasant memory from the past.”
She’d breathe in the salt air and think that it tasted no different here, than it did in England.
“No,” she’d reply, “Danny Roberts is too special ever to be forgotten. I’ll love him always.” Then they’d kiss and hold each other close and the world would be all right again.
He made no promises about the future, however and as her year with him drew to a close, she began to wonder what would happen when the time came for them to separate, a year’s a long time to spend with someone and no matter how small the world has become America and England are still an ocean apart.
They were at their last dance together when she tried to put her thoughts into words.
“Do you mind if we go outside for a while?” she asked, “It’s a bit warm in here.”
Sitting on the now familiar college steps where they’d shared their first touch, head’s close together, she asked.
“Who’ll hold your hand after I go home?”
He shrugged, “How should I know? You’re still here. We have a whole night together before you leave. Anyway, what makes you think I’ll be holding anybody’s hand?”
“I just don’t see you sitting around waiting for letters and phone calls, that’s all. I have this awful feeling that as soon as I step onto the plane you’ll find some other poor waif to take under your wing.”
He kissed her lightly on the cheek.
“You don’t have much faith in me, do you? I really thought I meant more to you than that.”
“You mean everything to me,” she said, “that’s why I want to know what you’ll do.”
“You want some promise of undying love? That I’ll never look at another girl and that I’ll love you forever?” His tone was mocking and for the first time since they’d met, he made her feel hurt.
She moved away from him, stood up and walked across the forecourt. When he caught up to her she was leaning against the founder’s statue, brushing away tears she’d hoped she’d be able to avoid.
“Damn it, Danny, I don’t know what I want. Worse, I don’t know what you want.” She pressed her hands tight over her eyes and tried to stifle the sobs that were so close to surfacing. “I love you and right now I haven’t a clue how you feel about me.”
He took hold of her hands and moved them away from her eyes then he tilted her chin, so she couldn’t avoid looking into his face.
“You want to know how I feel, Jane Harper, my very beautiful English rose? I love you with all my heart and I’m going to miss you like crazy.” He kissed her full on the mouth and when he pulled away from her, he added, candidly, “But loving you now and promising to love you forever are two different things. You’re right, I’m not the kind of guy who’ll sit around and wait for letters and phone calls, but I might just be the kind of guy who’ll call you and write a letter or two, provided I have an address and a phone number. So you just make sure you give them to me before you leave.”
“Try and stop me,” she said, smiling for the first time that night.
“So, what do we do now?” he asked. “Go back inside and dance the night away or…”
“Or would be very nice,” she replied, “as long as you have an apartment to drive me back to.”
He laughed, “For one night only, I don’t have to be out of this one till tomorrow morning.”
She grinned provocatively. “Good, we’ll pick up a bottle of wine, Californian, of course, and you can draw my picture. Who knows, if I think it’s good enough I might even give you a dollar for it.”
Some time during the early hours of the morning they made love. Not for the first time, of course, but with so much tenderness that they both felt it couldn’t possibly be the last.
She woke early, untangled herself from Danny’s legs where he still slept beside her, kissed him lightly on the forehead without waking him and went to shower and dress.
After she’d called a cab she spent some time studying the rather hurried pencil sketch he’d made of her the night before.
She was sure she looked much prettier than she really was and the thought made her smile. Perhaps he did care a little, after all.
She took out her purse, pulled out a dollar bill and placed it on top of the picture, which she’d turned over so she could write the address and phone number she’d promised to give him. As an afterthought she added the words,
“I’ve left you the dollar as promised. You can keep the picture as a reminder of what I look like. Thanks for a wonderful year.”
She scrawled her name on the bottom then added a P.S.
“Don’t come to the airport to see me off I don’t think I could bear it, but please keep your promise to call or write because if you don’t I won’t be able to contact you.”
She finished with a line of kisses just as the cab outside sounded its horn.
As she was about to leave she found an envelope with her name on, taped to the door. She took it down and stuffed it into her bag.
When she opened it at the airport, she discovered a heart-shaped locket with two tiny ink drawings inside, his face and hers. It was comforting to know that inside there, at least, they’d always be close together. She also found the shiny fifty pence piece she’d given him on the day she’d arrived at the college and a little note that said,
“See you next fall and that’s a promise.”
Back in the present and as they spoke each other’s names simultaneously all her carefully rehearsed words were forgotten and all the questions she wanted to ask began to surface, but as the child in her arms squirmed and launched into yet another screaming session she was brought sharply back to her reason for being there.
“I think my brother and his wife are here, Ken and Elaine? This not so joyful bundle belongs to them. Could you tell them they’re needed?”
She’d expected him to go inside, but he yelled down the hallway, “Hey Harper! The kid at the door making all the noise is yours. Come and quieten it down before somebody calls the cops.”
It was Elaine who came to her rescue and Ken who put her into difficulties. He arrived with jackets just as Danny invited her in for a drink. She would have declined if he hadn’t said, “Of course she’ll have one. My sister has never turned down a chance to get drunk in her life.” To her, he remarked, “Do me a favour, be nice to him. He’s the boss’s son, and I mean the boss. The Big White Chief, who owns the parent company in the States. Who knows, you might even be able to negotiate a rise for me.”
Being nice to him, she thought, is not going to be easy, but she followed him meekly enough, and accepted the drink he offered. Just one drink then I’m leaving, she thought, I’m not even going to look at him, because if he smiles just once I’ll forgive him and I’m not ready for that, no matter how good an excuse he might give.
She stood for a long time, her eyes fixed firmly on her glass before she took the first sip from it.
“Scotch and American,” he said, “I hope it’s not too strong.”
It was, it burned all the way down to her stomach, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. She wished he’d go away and fill someone else’s glass, but he just stood there watching her take a second sip and a third.
As she couldn’t stare at her glass forever she turned her attention to the room.
“Nice place you’ve got here.”
“Not bad, is it? I wish I could take the credit for choosing it, but one of the secretaries at the firm decided it was a worthy place for the boss’s son to live. She obviously has no knowledge of my track record for getting thrown out of apartments.”
It was a comment that made them look the past squarely in the eye. He reached out and tilted her chin with his hand, forcing her to meet his gaze.
Pulling away from the kiss he was about to give her, she said, sharply, “Don’t you have other guests to attend to?”
“The guests can look after themselves. I have a year of your life to catch up on.”
“Oh, that’s rich,” she exploded, “coming from someone who hasn’t bothered to write even one letter since I left.”
“I’d explain, but I’m not sure you’d believe me.”
Looking into his face for signs that what he was about to say was a lie, she knew that even if he told her he’d died and been resurrected like Lazarus, she’d have believed him.
“Try me.”
“It isn’t that I haven’t bothered to write, more that I couldn’t.”
“Surely you can do better than that,” she snapped, “you’re not illiterate.”
“No I’m not, nor did I break my arm or fracture my wrist. I did something far more stupid. I lost your address. I woke late and was in such a rush to get out, I left it in the apartment and as my parting from the landlady was, shall we say somewhat acrimonious, I didn’t relish going back to ask for it.”
When she opened her mouth to speak again, he silenced her by adding, “And please don’t say I could have gotten it from your landlady or the college, because the former didn’t have it and the latter wouldn’t give it because of its policy on student confidentiality. I guess they might have sent a letter on for me, but I didn’t think.”
She continued to scan his face for signs that he might not be telling the truth, and said, rather more harshly than she need, “You’ll be telling me next you came to England to find me.”
He shook his head. “I came to England because Dad thought it would be good experience for me. I have five more months here and then I go on to the Amsterdam office.” He paused and looked at her earnestly. “I would have gotten in touch though, had I known you were living close by. Look, I’m a long way from home and I could do with someone to show me around. How do you feel about taking on the task?”
“I suppose the least I can do is return the favour of you looking after me, but only if you dance with me first.”
He closed his arms around her and began moving slowly in time to the music, “And then?”
The familiar flutter of excitement told her this was the only place she really belonged, “I’d say the rest was up to you.”
He smiled the heart-stopping smile that would make her forgive him anything. “I’ll make a bargain with you. You show me England and we’ll explore The Netherlands together.”
It was an impossible situation and she told him so. “I can’t just drop everything and go off to Amsterdam with you.”
“Sure you can, if we get married.”
She stopped dancing, the shock rendering her both immobile and speechless. When she found her voice, she asked, “Aren’t you rushing things a bit? I mean we haven’t seen each other for twelve months.”
“Yeah,” he said, grinning, “I guess I am, but how else are you going to ensure that I remember where you live?”
She grinned too, “Tell you what, give me some time to think about it, and then ask me properly. I’ll let you know what I’ve decided.”
Not that there was anything to decide. She knew that when he asked, the answer would definitely be, yes.
Copyright reserved. Please do not reproduce without consent.