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Chapter Four
Cat woke early the next morning with a renewed sense of purpose. She had a plan and the arrangement with her brother was only temporary. She could handle it. She was Cat Nightingale. She could handle anything. She showered and dressed in her favourite Malene Birger chinos and navy lace-detail T-shirt top from Zara. It was smart without being showy and she felt good in it; it was the perfect look for a wannabe fun auntie. She went downstairs. Ellie was watching cartoons and Charlie was playing on his iPad. So far so calm.
‘Morning!’ she said in a sing-song voice. ‘How are we today?’
‘Daddy’s gone,’ said Ellie sadly, without looking up. Charlie said nothing.
‘Well who’s for breakfast?’ she asked. ‘I’m starving and we’ve got a big day ahead.’ She sensed that she needed to keep them moving. Sitting still and moping was not an option. Fresh air and activity surely had to be the best idea.
‘I’m not hungry,’ said Charlie sullenly.
‘Me neither,’ declared Ellie, bouncing up and down on the sofa.
‘Oh that’s a shame because I think I spied some pancakes and bacon so I’ll just eat them all myself.’
‘Ooh I want pancakes,’ said Ellie. Charlie scowled at his sister with a look that said, ‘Traitor’.
Satisfied that she had one of them onside, Cat made her way to the kitchen. Ellie followed her, spouting a stream of questions. ‘Can I have maple syrup with mine, is there any juice, where are we going today, can I have a biscuit while I’m waiting, will it take long to get there, will there be toilets at the place we’re going to?’
Cat was used to needy clients but not needy six-year-olds and felt her brain start to fizz at this verbal onslaught. She flicked on the kettle, deciding that coffee would definitely help before turning to her niece. ‘Yes, don’t know, up to London, yes, not long and yes.’
Ellie seemed appeased and reached for the biscuit tin. Cat retrieved the bacon and pancakes and set about making breakfast. She felt disproportionately proud as she found the maple syrup and successfully prepared their breakfast without cremating it.
‘It’s ready,’ she called.
‘Ooh goody!’ cried Ellie, hopping into the dining room.
Charlie didn’t appear so Cat went into the lounge. He was still glued to his game. ‘Are you sure you don’t want anything? We’re going out so you should probably eat something.’
He scowled up at her. ‘I don’t want any breakfast and I don’t want to go out. Just leave me alone.’
Cat wasn’t used to being talked to like this and she also wasn’t used to people not doing as they were asked. ‘You need to have some breakfast and then we are going out,’ she said firmly.
They glared at one another for what felt like an age; Cat could see his defiance mirrored in her own. It’s a test, she thought, and I cannot lose. Not on day one. Charlie studied her expression as if trying to read her mind. She saw a hint of recognition flicker across his face – a realisation that he’d picked the wrong battle. It might have been this or a growling hunger that made him throw his iPad to one side and sigh, ‘Fine.’
Cat almost felt like doing a small victory dance as he joined her and Ellie for breakfast. A point to me, she thought. I can do this.
Ellie was tucking into a pancake, two rashers of bacon and a lake of maple syrup. ‘It’s mop as mice as Mummy’s,’ she said through a mouthful of food.
‘I wouldn’t expect it to be,’ said Cat taking a sip of coffee. ‘Now, would you like to know where we’re going today?’
‘Not really,’ muttered Charlie.
‘Is it Disneyland?’ asked Ellie hopefully.
‘No,’ replied Cat, deciding to ignore Charlie and plough on regardless. ‘We’re going on the London Eye.’
‘We’ve already done that with Mum and Dad,’ said Charlie smugly.
Cat had the trump card. ‘Yes but I’ve booked us a VIP capsule.’
‘What’s VIP?’ asked Ellie.
‘Very important person,’ said Charlie with authority. ‘It’s for posh people.’ Cat was good enough at reading humans to glean that he was secretly impressed.
‘Oh. Are we posh then?’ asked Ellie.
‘We can be for today if you like. And then if you’re good, I thought we could go to one of my very favourite restaurants.’
‘I like restaurants. Can I wear my party dress?’ asked Ellie, helping herself to another pancake and pooling more maple syrup on top.
‘If you want to,’ said Cat feeling pleased. Charlie said nothing and Cat took this as a positive sign. She sat back in her chair and reached for her phone. She had just enough time to flick through the day’s news before they needed to leave for the station.
‘We’re not allowed phones or iPads at the table,’ said Charlie, jutting out his chin in defiance.
‘Daddy says that mealtimes are family times,’ reported Ellie with a frown.
‘Sorry,’ said Cat feeling a little indignant. ‘I just need to check in for work.’
‘I thought you weren’t working at the moment,’ said Charlie, narrowing his eyes at her. Another challenge.
‘No, but I still need to keep up with what’s going on. It’s a very important part of my job,’ retorted Cat, irritated that she was allowing her ten-year-old nephew to rile her.
‘But you haven’t got a job,’ said Ellie, looking confused.
Thanks for reminding me, thought Cat.
‘Come on, Ells. Let’s get dressed,’ said Charlie, nudging his sister. He gave his aunt a superior glance as they left the room.
Left alone nursing her coffee, Cat felt a growing sense of dissatisfaction creep over her. Charlie was obviously determined to undermine her at every turn, which was going to make for a very stressful day. She tried to distract herself by reading the day’s news on her phone. Normally she would have found a discussion to join or at least added a sage comment to some big PR story but she felt almost paralysed. Cat had half-expected the world to grind to a halt without her. She knew it was a ridiculous notion but she couldn’t quite believe that Hemingway Media was still functioning in her absence. She flicked to its Twitter page. All was calm, normal and working perfectly well. She was about to tweet to Ava when a call came from upstairs.
‘Auntie Cat! We’ve run out of toothpaste and I can’t find any clean pants,’ cried Ellie.
Cat sighed. How quickly the world had changed from dynamic creativity to clean underwear. Still, she would not be defeated. Today’s project was all about giving the children a day they would never forget and perhaps even persuading them that she really was the perfect aunt.
As Andrew put a near-hysterical Ellie to bed that night and Charlie was confined to his room once again, Cat had to concede that the best-laid plans of mice and men are often prone to a visit from Mr and Mrs Cock-up. She had also realised that her limited knowledge of children’s needs was a bigger issue than she had originally anticipated.
Her first mistake had been not to monitor Ellie’s sugar intake. Apparently a spoonful of sugar may help the medicine go down but approximately two hundred and fifty of them make children hyper, then tearful and ultimately quite sick. The biscuit followed by maple syrup, raisins, candyfloss, a Coke and finally a fondant chocolate pudding accompanied by vanilla ice-cream turned out to be a very bad combination for a swiftly tiring small girl.
At first, Ellie had been the archetypal happy six-year-old, skipping along in the sunshine with her brother and aunt. Even Charlie seemed to brighten in the fresh air. When they boarded the train, he let Ellie sit by the window and even though he didn’t speak to his aunt, he talked to his sister, pointing out landmarks and making her laugh. They played word games; they didn’t invite Cat to join in but she didn’t care. She had successfully made it out of the house and onto the train with two small people. That had to be an achievement. Besides, it meant that she could check her e-mails uninterrupted. She smiled to herself as she spotted an e-mail from Jesse. He was just checking in with a question about the Paradise Rivers perfume launch but it restored her faith a little. He signed off with, ‘It’s not the same without you,’ and she felt immediate relief as she typed her reply. All would be well. The children were happy, the sun was shining, Jesse still needed her. Today would be a good day.
‘Do you have any sweets?’ asked Ellie.
Cat rummaged in the bag her brother had packed. ‘There are some raisins.’
‘Ooh yummy, thanks,’ said Ellie, accepting a box.
As they pulled in to Waterloo East, Cat stood up. ‘We’re getting off here,’ she said expecting them to follow. She made her way to the door and turned to see Ellie on her heels but Charlie trailing behind. ‘Come on, Charlie,’ said Cat stepping off the train.
‘Can you help me?’ asked Ellie staring nervously at the wide gap between the train and the platform. Cat reached up and lifted her down. ‘Wheeee!’ cried Ellie.
Cat looked for Charlie but more people had boarded the train and he was nowhere to be seen. As the train beeped, signalling that the doors were closing, she panicked and rushed along the carriage. Charlie was sitting in the seat nearest the doors calmly waving as the train pulled out of the station. ‘Little shit,’ muttered Cat feeling sick. It was a test; this was all a bloody endurance test.
‘Where’s Charlie?’ asked Ellie looking frightened.
Cat could see clearly what she needed to do. She had to get Charlie back and she had to reassure Ellie. She knew how to avert crises and hysteria; this was basically her day job. She knelt down and took Ellie’s hands. ‘Charlie is playing a game and we’re going to play too. It’s an adventure, so we need to dash up the stairs and run over the bridge and hop on another train. Okay?’
‘O-kay,’ said Ellie uncertainly.
‘Let’s go!’ cried Cat, grabbing her hand. They galloped up the stairs and Cat quickly checked for the next Charing Cross train. ‘Platform six!’ she trilled, trying to keep her voice as light as possible. As they hurtled down to the platform she could see that the train wasn’t due for five minutes. ‘Come on, train!’ she said, smiling at Ellie, her stomach churning with panic.
‘Yes come on, Mr Train!’ cried Ellie joining in.
Cat took out her phone and scanned her contacts. There were advantages to be ridiculously well connected. She dialled a number. The phone was answered immediately.
‘Savoy Hotel? How may I help you?’
‘George? This is Cat Nightingale.’
‘Miss Nightingale, what a lovely surprise. I was sorry to hear about the recent incident. A travesty in my opinion.’
‘Thank you, George. I was wondering if you could do me a favour.’
‘Of course. How may I be of service?’
Fifteen minutes later, Cat and Ellie were hurrying along the platform at Charing Cross station. She was relieved to see Charlie standing on the other side of the ticket barriers with a station official who was having a jovial conversation with an impeccably suited man wearing a top hat.
‘There he is, over there!’ cried Ellie, sprinting towards her brother. ‘Charlie, you didn’t tell me you were playing a game. I would have joined in.’
Charlie smiled sheepishly at his sister but wouldn’t look at Cat. She approached the barrier. ‘Thank you, George. You saved my life.’
George tapped his hat in reply. ‘My pleasure, Miss Nightingale, and no more games, young man. Do you hear?’ Charlie stared at the floor but gave a small nod. George seemed satisfied. ‘I hope it’s not too long before we see you again, Miss Nightingale.’
‘Me too,’ said Cat. ‘And thank you again.’
George gave a small bow and disappeared towards the exit. Ellie watched him go, wide-eyed. ‘Is that man a magician?’ she asked.
‘Of sorts.’ Cat smiled. She glanced at her watch. ‘Well we’ve missed our slot on the London Eye.’
‘Oh shame,’ muttered Charlie sarcastically.
Cat looked at him. This wasn’t going to be easy. ‘Oh-hhhh,’ said Ellie sadly. ‘I was looking forward to being a “very important person”.’
Cat spotted a hint of guilt in Charlie’s eyes. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘It can’t be helped, but we are quite near to Trafalgar Square. Shall we go there?’
‘Yesss!’ cried Ellie. ‘I love the lions and Nelson’s whatsit.’
‘Column?’ suggested Cat.
‘That’s it,’ agreed Ellie.
Trafalgar Square was teeming with tourists and the paved area between the square and the National Gallery was lined with street performers. Ellie was transfixed. She hopped and skipped her way between them. She was particularly taken by one Yoda figure who appeared to be levitating.
‘How is he doing that?’ she squealed, circling him like a puppy chasing its tail.
Cat noticed Charlie was keeping his distance. She knew she couldn’t let this morning’s drama go unmentioned. Cat might not be a child-rearing expert but she did know that every action had its consequences. Charlie had his back to her so she tapped him on the shoulder. He turned, a defiant frown clouding his face.
‘I have to talk to you,’ she said.
He shrugged as if to say, ‘Go on then.’
Cat sighed. ‘Look, I know you don’t like me and you’re not happy that I’m looking after you. Fine. If I’m honest, it wasn’t my choice.’ Charlie stared up at her. He wasn’t used to such candour from adults. Cat continued. ‘But the thing is, your dad needs me and I am happy to help because he’s my brother and I’d do anything for him.’ Charlie looked away but Cat knew he was listening. ‘I get the feeling you understand that, because I think you’d probably do anything for Ellie, wouldn’t you?’ Charlie gave a barely discernible nod. ‘So you may not like me but if you love your sister, don’t pull any more stunts like the one you pulled this morning. You scared her and you spoiled a really nice treat for her.’
Ellie bounced over to them. ‘Can I have some candyfloss and a drink, please?’
‘Okay,’ said Cat.
‘I’m sorry I spoiled your treat, Ellie,’ said Charlie.
Ellie shrugged. ‘It’s okay. Can I have some candyfloss then? And also, can I have my picture taken with Yoda? Have you seen him, Charlie? He’s really cool.’
Cat and Charlie exchanged glances before Charlie put an arm around his sister. ‘I have, Ells. Come on, let’s go and try to work out how he does it.’
Cat breathed a sigh of relief and followed them through the crowds. As they were right by the National Gallery, Cat suggested they go inside. Predictably, Charlie declared the idea to be ‘boring’ but as soon as Ellie said that she would like to see the pictures, he backed down.
Cat had always loved this place and, over the years, she had viewed it as some people might view a library – a place of calm and a refuge from the real world. She marvelled at the fact that you could be in London’s bustle one moment and then staring at Van Gogh’s Sunflowers the next. She led the children towards the modern paintings, thinking she might impress them with her favourites.
‘I like this one,’ cried Ellie, skipping over to a winter landscape scene. ‘It’s like Christmas. Why is that little man sitting in the snow though?’ she asked peering at the tiny figure.
‘Well – ’ said Cat moving next to her.
‘Can we go and see the sunflowers now?’ said Ellie moving away.
‘Okay,’ said Cat, longing to spend a minute to take in the other pictures. She noticed Charlie stayed by her side. This was a blessing as the gallery was now bustling with visitors. ‘I think you should hold my hand, Ellie,’ she said.
Ellie frowned at her. ‘I’m not a baby.’
‘I know. It’s just that there are a lot of people and how cross would your dad be if I lost you?’
‘Very cross,’ declared Ellie, placing her hand in Cat’s.
It felt odd to be holding a child’s hand and Ellie kept trying to wriggle free when she spotted something new she wanted to look at. Cat led them quickly to Sunflowers but it was impossible to get close due to the number of people gazing up in reverent awe. Cat remembered going to the Louvre and the enormous gallery where the Mona Lisa hung. She had been overwhelmed by the crowds and underwhelmed when she got close and saw how tiny the painting actually was. She looked round at the other paintings – bridesmaids at Van Gogh’s wedding. Ellie wriggled her way through and was frowning up at the painting. Charlie stood next to her. Cat excused her way through the crowd to stand alongside them.
‘What do you think?’ she asked.
‘I like them,’ said Ellie.
‘They’re dying,’ said Charlie. ‘Why did he paint dying flowers?’
Cat looked at the picture and realised that he was right. In her mind they had always been bright and alive and full of life. In actual fact at least half a dozen of the flowers were drooping. If they had been in her house, she would have thrown them out. She looked for a description, hoping that it might give her an answer for Charlie. ‘Well he painted them for his friend, another painter called Gauguin, and I think he wanted to impress him.’
‘By painting dying flowers?’
‘I think there are a few versions,’ said Cat, trying to scan through the text quickly.
‘I need a poo,’ declared Ellie.
‘Right, okay,’ said Cat, still trying to read the text.
‘Now,’ said Ellie, looking a little desperate.
A lady with a sleeping toddler in a buggy caught Cat’s eye. ‘Kids eh?’ She grinned.
Cat gave her a weak smile. She longed to shout, I am not one of you! These are not my children!
‘Come on then, you two,’ said Cat, leading them back to the entrance hall.
‘I’ll wait here,’ said Charlie.
Cat wavered. The gallery was very busy and she also wasn’t convinced that she could trust him to stay put, despite their earlier discussion. ‘I want you to come with us,’ said Ellie in a strained voice.
Charlie looked at his sister and rolled his eyes. ‘Okay, Ells,’ he said offering her his hand.
They followed the signs to the basement. ‘I’ve got a turtle!’ shouted Ellie as they sped along the marble corridor with Cat glancing back every now and then to check Charlie was still behind her. Cat’s heart sank when she saw the queue. It snaked out of the door. Could she push in declaring a faecal emergency? She could see quite a few parents ahead of her accompanied by squirming children. Probably not.
She turned to face Ellie and held her by the shoulders. ‘You’ve got to hold on, Ellie. Can you do that for me, please?’ Ellie’s face was screwed up in concentration and she looked as if she might cry.
‘Hey, Ellie,’ said Charlie. ‘What’s that song about the kookaburra that Mum always sings?’
Ellie was immediately distracted as she thought. She began a tuneless rendition and to Cat’s surprise Charlie joined in.
‘Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree-ee,
Merry, merry king of the bush is hee-ee,
Laugh kookaburra, laugh kookaburra,
Gay your life must be.’
Cat had to endure this assault on her eardrums for a further ten rounds but they reached the toilet without further drama.
‘In you go, Ellie,’ said Cat.
‘Can you come in with me?’
‘Really?’ asked Cat horrified.
‘These toilets are very dark and a bit scary.’ Cat and Charlie exchanged glances. ‘Please?’ implored the little girl.
‘O-kay but let’s be quick. I thought this was an emergency,’ said Cat feeling exasperated.
They crammed into the cubicle as Ellie sat down and began a running commentary on her bowel movement.
‘It’s coming out now and oooh, that’s much better.’
Cat stared at the ceiling and tried to pretend that she was having cocktails in Shoreditch House. Ellie went about her business and after she had wiped declared that ‘it came out clean so I didn’t really need to wipe.’
‘You stink,’ said Charlie with a grin.
‘I know.’ Ellie beamed.
‘Okay, go and wash your hands now,’ said Cat. As Ellie filled her hands with too much soap and proceeded to flood the floor beneath her basin, Cat turned to Charlie. ‘Thank you for distracting her,’ she said. He shrugged.
‘That was fun,’ said Ellie as they made their way out towards the door. ‘Can we go for lunch now, please?’
When she told Andrew later about their dining experience, he was a little too quick to point out that she should have saved herself the bother and taken the children to McDonald’s.
‘The treat aspect to eating out for kids is the fact that they’re not eating at home,’ he said plainly.
Cat did not know this and she also didn’t go to McDonald’s. Ever. Although she could remember enjoying it as a child, now she was an adult, she could afford to shun fast-food establishments and treat herself to something a little more edifying. So for Cat a meal at a Michelin-starred restaurant was something different and wonderful and she had felt sure that the children would quickly be impressed and won over. The trip to the National Gallery had been relatively successful and she decided that they all deserved a treat. Cat was no fool though. She had deliberately chosen a restaurant run by a female chef with children. She not only welcomed kids but had even designed a menu for them. It was where Cat sent all her celebrity mothers with their offspring.
‘Wow,’ was all Ellie would say as the maître d’ led them through the elegant dining room to their table.
‘Thank you, Philippe,’ said Cat with a smile as they took their places. The children looked bemused when he unfolded their napkins and placed them on their laps. Ellie beamed at Cat and she started to relax a little. Philippe brought the menus, a large one for Cat and two smaller ones for the children.
‘I sink you will be wanting ze brunch menu, Miss Nightingale?’ he asked.
‘That will be wonderful. Thank you.’ He retreated with a small bow and Cat turned to the children. ‘So they have macaroni cheese, burgers or fishcakes. What do you fancy?’
Ellie was looking around in wonder and awe. ‘I feel like a princess,’ she breathed. ‘I like the way that man talks too. Can I have macaroni cheese, please?’
Cat smiled. ‘Of course. Charlie? How about a burger?’
‘I want to go home,’ said Charlie, his face clouding over.
Cat took a deep breath. ‘Come on, let’s have some lunch eh? Ellie is looking forward to it,’ she said with meaning.
Charlie scowled at her but then caught sight of his sister’s hopeful face. ‘I’ll just have chips,’ he said.
‘All right,’ said Cat, deciding that it wasn’t worth a battle. ‘And what would you like to drink?’
‘Can I have a Coke, please?’ asked Ellie.
Charlie gave her a disapproving look and was about to open his mouth when he thought better of it. ‘Coke for me too, please,’ he said giving his aunt a rare smile.
Cat felt encouraged. She would win the children over in one single day and Andrew would have to eat his words. As she placed their order, she spotted Ava being led through the restaurant. She was with a companion whom Cat recognised as Caroline Henderson, a freelance PR consultant Cat had used for the odd campaign. Cat gave them a wave. Caroline looked embarrassed and whispered something to Ava before retreating towards the entrance. Ava made her way over to Cat’s table.
‘Darling,’ she said, kissing the air either side of Cat’s head. ‘How are you?’ She emphasised the question by glancing at the children and giving Cat a look of deep sympathy.
‘I’m fine. Really,’ said Cat with meaning. ‘What happened to Caroline?’
‘She had to pop to the little girl’s room. So!’ said Ava taking a step back.
‘I’m Ellie and this is Charlie,’ announced Ellie.
Ava raised her eyebrows at the little girl. ‘Pleased to meet you, sugar-cheeks. I’m Ava.’
‘There’s a girl in my class called Ava,’ said Ellie with authority.
‘Is that so?’ said Ava, her mouth twitching into a smile.
‘It is so,’ replied Ellie. ‘But she’s mean and I don’t like her. She once poured yoghurt on my skirt.’
‘Well that is mean,’ said Ava. ‘You should do it back to her.’