A Nanny for Christmas (15 page)

'Darling, what's the matter?' Phoebe asked in consternation.

'Our class is doing a nativity play for the last day of term,' Tara sobbed. 'Mrs Franks chose people for all the parts this afternoon and I 'ditioned for the Virgin Mary. I had to sing "Away in a Manger", and Mrs Franks said I'd cheated because I knew it too well. So now I haven't got a part at all—and I'm the only one,' she added on a little wail.

'Sit there,' Phoebe ordered grimly. 'I'm going to see about this.'

Mrs Franks's smile was acid when she saw Phoebe. 'Can I help you with something?'

'Yes,' Phoebe said steadily. 'I'd like to know why Tara Ashton, my charge, has been excluded from the class nativity play.'

'It was a disciplinary measure,' Mrs Franks said coldly. 'The audition carol for the leading part had been deliberately kept secret to give every child an equal opportunity, and yet Tara managed a polished performance. It was clear to me that she'd found out somehow, and practised to give herself an unfair advantage. Now she has to learn that underhand methods will get her nowhere.'

'Tara has learned "Away in a Manger",' Phoebe agreed, levelly. 'But at her piano lessons as a Christmas surprise for her father. The fact it was an audition piece too is a complete coincidence.'

'Well, I only have your word for that.' Mrs Franks pursed her lips. 'But it makes no difference. Tara has had an ego problem ever since she came to the school. We hear far too much about her mother's Hollywood career,' she added with distaste. 'Perhaps this will teach her not to put herself forward quite so much.'

'And that,' Phoebe said shakily, 'is one of the cruellest and most heartless statements I've ever heard. Goodbye.'

Not surprisingly, Tara didn't want to go to her music lesson that evening, but begged to go home.

When Phoebe stopped off at Mrs Blake's house to explain, she found the other woman more than understanding.

'Poor little soul,' she said indignantly. 'But I'm not surprised. I've never cared for that school.' She wrinkled her nose. 'It's very much geared to one social set, and they seem more interested in who does what at the Pony Club than academic achievement.' She hesitated. 'And Tara may have an extra black mark against her for being Serena Vane's daughter.'

'You mean you think she does have an ego problem?' Phoebe asked, troubled.

'No, on the contrary.' Celia Blake shook her head. 'But a few years ago Miss Vane used to throw some pretty wild parties when she was down here. Parties to which male guests did not bring their wives,' she added darkly. 'A lot of local husbands blotted their copybooks in a big way, and that hasn't been forgiven, or forgotten. I suspect Tara's problem may not be with her classmates but their mothers.'

'Oh, how ridiculous,' Phoebe said indignantly. 'None of that can possibly be Tara's fault.'

'No, but I suspect she's a victim of prejudice just the same.' Celia sighed. 'It's a pity Mr Ashton didn't opt for the village school at Fitton Magna. I go there to take singing, and though it's only small it has excellent standards, and a really happy atmosphere. And none of the social pressures of Westcombe Park,' she added drily.

'I'll talk to him about it this evening,' Phoebe said with resolution.

Back at the house, she handed Tara over to Carrie, who led her away, clucking, for a hot drink and biscuits. Then, drawing a deep breath, she went to find Dominic.

He was standing beside the desk in his study, reading through some faxes. His briefcase was standing open on the desk beside him and he looked preoccupied, and a little remote. Phoebe hesitated for a moment, then tapped lightly on the open door.

When he saw who it was, he seemed to stiffen momentarily. His smile was brief, and forced.

'Is something the matter?'

'Yes, I'm afraid so.' Phoebe gave him a brief resume of the day's events at Westcombe Park School. 'Tara's naturally very upset, and I think she has cause.'

'Yes,' he said heavily. 'And you saw this coming, didn't you?' He gave her a wintry smile. 'Unfortunately, there's nothing I can do immediately. I have to go away tonight, and I could be gone for anything up to a week. I was just about to find her to say goodbye.'

Phoebe bit her lip. 'That will be another blow,' she told him quietly. 'She hardly sees you nowadays.'

'Has she complained?' he asked sharply.

'Not in so many words.' Phoebe lifted her chin. 'But then she wouldn't.' She paused. 'You couldn't delay your trip just for one day?'

He shook his head. 'It's out of the question. A company I helped a while back is the subject of a hostile takeover, and I'm trying to create a rescue package for them.'

'And your young daughter?' Her voice was husky. 'What about a rescue package for her?'

The grey eyes met hers with ice in their depths.

'That,' said Dominic, 'is what I pay you for.'

'And that,' Phoebe said shakily, 'is a bloody awful thing for a father to say.'

There was a pregnant silence, then Dominic lifted his hands in surrender.

'All right,' he said wearily. 'I can't do anything about this trip, but I swear when I get back—''Don't mention quality time,' she interrupted. 'Or I might hit you.'

She couldn't believe what she'd just said, and, to judge by his face, neither could he.

But the bleakness faded from his face, to be replaced by reluctant amusement. 'You might try,' he told her drily. 'And I was going to say that I shall devote myself to her interests,. including sorting out this school business. Is that acceptable?'

'I'm—sorry,' Phoebe stammered. 'It's just that she loves you so much—and you're missing out too.'

'It's good of you to think of me,' he said mockingly. 'Given the violence of your feelings.'

He looked at his watch. 'Hell, I've got to go. Is Tara watching television?' He barely waited for her answering nod before striding out of the room and across the hall.

Phoebe lingered, not wishing to intrude, wanting them to have at least this brief time together.

Then there was a strident peal of the doorbell, and Hazel Sinclair swept in, bringing a wave of cold air mixed with Poison.

'Where's Dominic?' she demanded imperiously. 'He hasn't left yet?'

'Not yet. But he's just saying goodbye to Tara. He may not want to be disturbed.'

Hazel gave Phoebe the kind of look most people reserve for woodlice.

'Don't be absurd,' she said crushingly. 'Are they upstairs?'

'No, they're in the small sitting room,' Phoebe admitted.

'More television, I suppose?' Hazel sniffed. 'I'd have thought you could have thought up something more intellectually stimulating for the child. Especially in view of the salary you're being paid,' she added sharply. 'But you girls are all the same—creating a generation of couch potatoes, just so that you can have an easy life.'

And she walked off, leaving Phoebe to follow, smarting.

'Dominic, darling.' Phoebe heard the honeyed greeting followed by a crisper, 'Good evening, Tara.'

'Hazel.' Dominic's tone was surprised, and held a faint reserve. 'I wasn't expecting you.' He was sitting beside the fire, with a watery-eyed Tara on his knee. He put the little girl down gently, and stood up.

'I know, my sweet, but I had to catch you before you went away.' She paused dramatically. 'I've got the most wonderful news. You remember the Claytons, of course—Howard and Linnet? Well, they've taken a house just outside Innsbruck for the whole of Christmas and the New Year.'

'Good for them.' Dominic frowned. 'But I don't see why you had to dash round here to tell me that.'

Hazel sighed elaborately. 'That's only the beginning. They've invited me out there for the whole of the holiday.' She gave an excited little laugh. 'Christmas in Innsbruck, darling. Wonderful food, marvellous skiing. Won't it be heavenly?'

'Paradise on earth,' he agreed courteously. 'I hope the snow stays deep and crisp and even for you.'

'Not just for me, darling.' She pouted playfully. 'For
us.
They want me to bring my—partner.'

There was an astonished silence, broken by a sudden tearful roar from Tara.

'No,' she screamed, her face contorted. 'You're not taking my daddy away for Christmas. I won't let you. You're an old witch and I hate you.'

'That's enough.' Phoebe and Dominic spoke in unison as Hazel turned crimson.

'Well,' Hazel said with a metallic laugh. 'One can see who's become completely out of hand.' She looked inimically at Phoebe. 'And the reason.'

Tara wilted instantly. She took her father's hand. 'Daddy, you won't go—will you?' she pleaded woefully. 'You won't leave me?'

Dominic crouched down beside her. 'It could be fun,' he said gently. 'You've never learned to ski.'

'Dominic,' Hazel intercepted, 'I'm afraid that's out of the question. It's a grown-up party. Howard and Linnet have no children. They couldn't cope—wouldn't want to...' Her voice tailed away.

He got to his feet. 'Then I wouldn't want to either,' he said calmly.

'You mean you're turning down the invitation? Oh, I don't believe it.' For a moment Hazel sounded hysterical, then she visibly pulled herself together, even managing a smile. 'Clearly we can't talk about it now. You have to go. But think it over carefully while you're away, and we'll discuss it when you return.'

There was a pause, then Dominic said, 'Very well.' He turned to Phoebe. 'Take Tara downstairs, will you? It must be her suppertime.'

'Supper,' Hazel echoed. 'If I'd dared speak to an adult like that at her age, I'd have been sent to bed without any supper.'

Phoebe saw Tara shrink. She said quietly, 'You chose rather a bad moment. Miss Sinclair. But Tara's sorry now, and would like to tell you so.'

There was a silence, then Tara, eyes downcast, muttered an apology.

Dominic dropped a swift kiss on her hair. 'That's better,' he told her. 'Now, be good for Phoebe, and I'll be back before you know it.'

'But I want to wave goodbye,' Tara objected.

Phoebe hastily intervened. 'You can wave from the nursery window.' She hustled the little girl, still protesting, from the room.

'Why do I have to go upstairs?' she demanded.

'Because Daddy wants to say goodbye to Miss Sinclair now, and we'd be in the way,' said Phoebe, feeling only the truth would serve.

'I wish Miss Sinclair would go away,' Tara said morosely.

So do I, thought Phoebe. But I have an awful feeling that she's here to stay.

Together they watched from the window as Dominic emerged onto the floodlit drive. Hazel was with him, her arm tucked through his, leaning intimately against him. Her face was turned up towards him and she was smiling, talking eagerly, their recent difference apparently forgotten.

At the side of the Range Rover, they paused. Phoebe saw Dominic bend towards her, and Hazel wind her arms round his neck, drawing him down to her for a passionate kiss.

Phoebe turned away, not wanting to see any more.

After a moment Tara joined her, solemn-faced. 'Phoebe—would you mind if I don't have any supper? I don't feel very hungry.' Her lip quivered. 'I don't want Daddy to go away with her.'

Phoebe gave her a quick hug. 'He won't go. He said so. Everything will be fine, you'll see.'

And she wished, with a heavy heart, that she could believe it.

T
ARA
was flushed and heavy-eyed the next morning, and complained that she didn't feel very well. She produced a convincing cough, so Phoebe allowed her the benefit of the doubt, and rang the school to excuse her.

She didn't feel magnificent herself. She'd spent a restless night with troubled dreams, and had woken with a headache.

A day without pressure might do us both good, she thought.

'What lessons will you be missing?' she asked.

'No lessons.' Tara's lips quivered. 'They're going to be practising the play.'

'Oh, well,' Phoebe said stoutly. 'Then you can practise your surprise for Daddy.'

Tara shook her head. 'I don't want to do that any more. It's all spoiled.'

'You may change your mind later,' Phoebe told her gently, mentally cursing Mrs Franks and all her works.

Tara was silent for a moment. Then she asked, 'Can I sleep in Daddy's room while he's away?'

'I don't know,' Phoebe said, surprised. 'We'll have to ask Carrie.'

'She',11 let me,' Tara said confidently.

Which proved to be the case.

'Of course she can, the mite,' Carrie said warmly. 'If it makes her feel closer to him. You can give me a hand to change the linen,' she added briskly.

'Oh.' Phoebe's throat tightened. 'Yes—of course.'

Another hurdle to be surmounted, she thought. Up to that moment she'd never had cause to enter Dominic's bedroom, and on the rare occasions when the door had been open she'd scuttled past, with her face averted.

Like Bluebeard's chamber, she thought, swallowing, it had been the focal point for so many nightmares over the years. Maybe going in there to do a simple, practical task might now lay them to rest for ever. But she couldn't be sure, and she might find herself condemned again to the dark, torturous world of memory.

Her jaw felt taut, and her fists were clenched as she followed Carrie into the room. And stopped, her lips parting in a gasp of astonishment. Because this was not the room she remembered.

The dark red walls were now papered in a creamy shade with a faint gold stripe, and the canopied bed had disappeared entirely, replaced by a wide, modern divan with a heavy bronze silk coverlet. The rest of the furniture was different too.

I wouldn't have known the place, she thought, relief flooding over her.

'Nice, isn't it?' Carrie misread her expression. 'Mr Dominic had it all redone when his marriage ended. And small blame to him. No one would want to sleep with his kind of memories.'

Or mine, thought Phoebe.

'When are we going to get the Christmas tree?' Tara asked eagerly over lunch. 'We could decorate it to welcome Daddy back.'

'That's a nice idea.' Phoebe smiled at her, glad to see that she was looking far less woebegone.

'Mr Dominic's got an account at Harvey's Nurseries,' Carrie put in. 'Choose the one you want, and they'll deliver it.'