Picnics in Hyde Park

‘Here, let me.’ The deep voice sounded behind her and she jumped, the top of her head thunking his chin. His teeth clicked and a long, muscular arm grabbed the counter beside her waist, clutching it for support.

‘Shit!’ She span around, dismayed to see Matt’s eyes clenched shut, face white, a trickle of blood running down his chin. ‘I mean— argh! God, I’m so sorry. You took me completely by surprise.’ She took hold of his arm, scared he was about to topple over. Breathing in his aftershave and noticing how hot his body was really shouldn’t have been possible at that moment but somehow she managed both. Damn it.

‘Uh-huh,’ he groaned.

‘Here. Sit down,’ she ordered, guiding him back to his stool and pushing his head between his knees with a firm hand on the back of his warm neck. ‘Stay there a minute.’

He didn’t reply, staying put, so she edged away to get him a glass of iced water from the dispenser on the front of the big American style fridge and grab a piece of padded kitchen roll from the side, which she dampened. ‘Here you go,’ she held them out under his nose and after hesitating, he lifted his head slightly, grabbed the tissue and dabbed his mouth with it, followed by taking a few careful sips of water.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she repeated again, wincing. ‘It was a complete accident.’

Making a deep hmmming sound of acknowledgement, he stared at the floor in silence for a minute, taking slow deep breaths.

As Zoe hovered next to him, she tried to take some satisfaction in his pain—after all, she’d regularly fantasised about punching him since her return to the UK—but totally failed. She hadn’t meant to hurt him and the guy was so pale he looked bloodless. It wasn’t funny what a sorry sight he was. ‘Are you okay?’

Straightening up, he rubbed his jaw, poked a gentle finger in his mouth to check his tongue, and ran assessing fingers under his stubbly chin. ‘I think so.’

Zoe sucked in her cheeks, expecting to be bawled out for being clumsy. Greg would have been furious with her for the lack of care. He’d also never been good at dealing with pain. In contrast, Matt had sucked it up and been a man about it.

Shaking his head and dabbing his mouth with the kitchen roll again, he smiled gingerly. ‘I think I saw stars. And I definitely bit my tongue.’ A pause. ‘That is the last time I’m offering to help a woman make coffee.’

She was so surprised she burst out laughing. ‘Sorry, again. I was zoned out thinking about something. You made me jump.’

‘Clearly. Who would have thought you could jump so high though?’

‘I know, like I was on springs.’ She chuckled before turning serious. ‘But are you sure you’re okay? You might bruise under your chin. Your tongue will be sore for a few days too.’

‘It’s just a little cut. I’m sure I can cope. If there’s a visible mark under my chin I’ll make something up. I wouldn’t want the world thinking my nanny could take me…’ he trailed off, an odd look in his green eyes. ‘In a fight I mean.’

‘No,’ she cleared her throat, stepping away as a tingling flush ran up and down her body. ‘Obviously.’ Spinning around, she went back to the fridge, opening it and sticking her head inside to cool down. ‘Maybe I’ll just have an orange juice. Safer for both of us that way.’

‘No, I’ll do you a coffee,’ he replied, slowly getting up. ‘You just stay over there where you can’t injure me, and make toast or cereal or something.’

‘Seems fair.’ Emerging from the fridge she took two pieces of bread from the bread bin on the counter and put them in the toaster, pushing the button down and watching the elements glow red. The only reason her face was still warm was from the heat of the toaster. It was not about the thought of ‘taking’ Matt.

‘So,’ he looked over his coffee cup once she was settled across from him with her breakfast. ‘Any injuries at your end?’ Nodding at her head.

‘A bit of a sore spot, but I think I came off better than you.’

‘You might be right.’ He grinned, but not too widely, wiggling his jaw. ‘Look, I wanted to talk to you before the kids get up.’ He slid a quick look at the digital clock on the front of the high-tech oven. ‘They usually are now. It’s past seven.’

‘I’ll establish a routine with them, but they both seemed tired and a bit out of sorts last night so I thought I’d let them sleep in this morning.’

‘That’s fine. It’s the start of the summer holidays after all. As long as they’re back in their routine for September—’

‘They will be, no problem.’

‘Good.’ He pulled a face. ‘Thinking about it, they do come back from my mother-in-law’s a bit ratty sometimes.’

‘Why do you think that is?’

‘I…I’ve never really thought about it.’ He stared into space for a moment. ‘I suppose…it might be that she’s not the warmest person in the world.’

‘Yeah, I know someone like that,’ she mused, thinking of Ruth. ‘Or maybe their gran reminds them of their mum?’ she suggested softly, off the back of a comment Jasper had made the previous evening. He’d said Gran had the same curly hair as Mummy, he knew it from photos at her house. There were no pictures of Mummy at home, Daddy didn’t like them.

Watching Matt struggle with her suggestion, she was worried. A parent who knew their kids would instinctively know what was going on. Why was he so out of touch with them?

‘I don’t think so,’ he said at last.

Feeling he was wrong, she also knew now was not the time to push. It was too soon. She’d barely been here five minutes and he was unlikely to trust her opinion yet about something so sensitive and personal. ‘Okay.’ Watching the news on the flat screen TV built into one of the walls, she chewed some toast and drank some of the delicious coffee. Gulping, she studied him. ‘So, you wanted to talk to me about something?’

‘Oh, yes. I wanted to say sorry for the comment about your shorts yesterday.’ He looked down into his coffee cup. ‘It was clumsy.’

‘Thank you. I understand they might have been a bit skimpy, but—’

‘But I could have been a bit more diplomatic,’ he interrupted, flicking his gaze to her face. ‘I sounded like a pompous git.’

Her mouth swung open, and she laughed. He wasn’t at all what she’d been expecting. ‘Well, I wouldn’t have said that.’

‘Well I can. I apologise. I just don’t know how to talk to women anymore.’ It was the last thing she’d have predicted him sharing and he looked embarrassed. ‘I didn’t mean to say that.’

‘Obviously. After all, what about your reputation as a serial dater in the papers? And your last nanny was a woman, you must have talked to her?’

He scowled. ‘You shouldn’t believe everything you read. Besides, Melody was different. I wasn’t—’ he clenched his teeth. ‘Never mind.’

‘What were you going to say?’ Was he about to open up, give her an inkling of what the hell had caused him to fire Melody and kick her out?

‘Nothing. It doesn’t matter. Next subject.’ He drained his cup.

‘If it’s something I need to know, something that could affect the children—’

‘It’s not,’ he said tightly, before making a visible effort to breathe in and out to calm himself. ‘There was something else too, Zoe.’

‘Oh?’ Obviously she needed to let the subject of Melody drop, but it was weird how stressed he looked about the whole thing. ‘Go on.’

‘I’m um— not sure what time you got in last night but I really need you to be dedicated to the job, not coming in and out at all hours, dragging yourself around exhausted. Especially not smelling of alcohol.’ His mouth tightened, the scar cutting into his upper lip turning white. ‘Aimee and Jasper need stability and a responsible adult. I’m not unreasonable, you have a right to a life outside of work, it just has to be appropriate and come further down the list of priorities. My kids come first. Do you understand?’

She nodded, feeling a bit like a child who’d been told off for staying out to play too long, but she could see his point; she’d got in pretty late and was here to do a job. Plus how could she argue when he was looking out for his children? All she’d ever want from any parent was that they be child-centred and put their children’s best interests first.

‘Yes, absolutely,’ she nodded, ‘I want the best for them too.’ Hopping down from her stool she stacked her plate and cup in the dishwasher, before straightening up to look at him. ‘Just so you know, I wasn’t out drinking. I went for a walk and saw a film. I like going out and having fun occasionally but that’s it. I’m not a party girl.’ Hangovers and looking after children were not a good combination. She’d learnt that the hard way when she’d worked at the nursery in her late teens. Coming into work hung-over, dealing with the noise and demands of young children had been like slow-roasted torture and she’d ended up in tears before lunchtime. ‘Is there anything else?’

His eyes raked over her beige safari shorts, a respectable mid-thigh length today, the floaty white vest top, chunky necklace and lace-up sandals.

‘Yes,’ he met her gaze. ‘I can’t let you leave the house like that.’

‘Pardon?’ Her eyes widened. He couldn’t think this outfit was too revealing?

‘The other nannies dress a certain way.’ He ran a hand around the back of his neck, seeming awkward with the direction of the conversation. ‘I’m afraid that’s not it.’