Page 17

Maybe it was a role. Maybe after the kids were in bed, Florence would have a glass of wine, let her hair down, take those glasses off and drop an f-bomb. But Hadley seriously doubted it.

A flicker of movement caught her eye and she turned her head slightly to see that Henry had a smartphone hidden inside his book. She smirked. So Florence wasn't infallible after all, good to know.

She was attractive, which didn't exactly make things better. In fact, minus the Victorian persona, Florence was exactly the kind of woman that Hadley would make a play for. Not that she planned on doing anything, but the fact was there, needling at her every time she looked at the woman.

She sighed and dropped the curtain back into place. She'd told Maeve she'd stay, but she wasn't completely convinced. God knows what she'd have to say to Florence to stop her calling security in to escort her out.

Yet she really, really didn't want to lose this job. Okay, partly that was out of self-interest. She'd already told her father about this, she'd already committed and started and she had a point to prove.

But part of it was because of these kids. She'd only just met them and it was painfully obvious that they needed love, support, and a shoulder to cry on. Leaving them with Florence would mean none of those things. They'd get discipline and grounding and reading on a sunny afternoon.

Hadley tapped her fingers on the window-sill. The job was more over-whelming than she'd thought. She had to factor that in. Three kids, one with some pretty obvious behavior problems. This wasn't a matter of playing for a couple of hours and sending them back to their parents.

She groaned and threw herself back onto her small single bed. The thought of her little 'talk' with Florence later that evening was lurking over her and she felt like a kid waiting outside the principal's office.

And the afternoon wasn't even half over yet.

CANDLES FLICKERED ON the polished wood table and Hadley rolled her eyes as she walked into the dining room. Five places were set, so at least she was going to get dinner. But who the hell set a full formal table for three kids?

“In we go then,” Florence said, opening the door. “Show me hands please.”

Charlie and Emily each presented their hands and obviously passed inspection as they hurried to sit down. Henry gave a put-upon sigh and then flashed his hands quickly at Florence who nodded so that he slouched toward the table.

“I'd like to see your best table manners, please,” Florence said. “We'll be starting with soup, followed by chicken and vegetables. Should you clear your plates, there'll be fresh fruit for dessert.”

Emily groaned and even Charlie, who Hadley had pegged as a bit of a teacher's pet, rolled his eyes.

“That sounds gross,” Henry mumbled.

“Speak up at the table, dear,” said Florence, taking her seat and unfolding a napkin, but Henry saw the sense in keeping his mouth shut.

She didn't exactly have the air of someone who could be reasoned with, Hadley thought, keeping her mouth shut as an older woman served soup. She had the air of someone used to getting her own way. Someone well-qualified and efficient and a whole long list of things that Hadley definitely wasn't.

As she took a spoon of soup, Hadley wondered what she had to bargain with, what leg she had to stand on here.

“The spoon travels through the bowl away from you, and then up to your mouth,” Florence instructed. “Your mouth doesn't travel to the spoon please, Charlie.”

Hadley perked up, expecting trouble. But it seemed like all three kids were hungry enough that they couldn't be bothered to start anything.

Chicken was served, complete with vegetables, and Hadley silently wished for ketchup. Or wine. Or something that wasn't healthy. She was just cutting into an over-long green bean when she felt something hit her head.

She looked up, but all three children were busily eating.

Weird.

She picked up her knife again, and then another small object hit her. This time it bounced off her forehead and she saw it was a pea.

The pea rolled silently across the table.

She looked up and saw the twins exchanging glances, Emily red with the effort of not laughing. Henry smiled at her, far too innocently for her tastes.

She looked down and then quickly up again, just in time to catch Henry pulling a straw out of the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

“Henry McLeod-Allan, put that away right this minute!” Florence barked.

Hadley was shocked, she hadn't thought Florence had even noticed. “It's fine,” she started. “It's only a kid's game.”

“No,” said Florence. “It's proof of appalling table manners. Henry, apologize.”