The way she looked at his hand it might’ve been a banana, or a grenade, he almost turned the gesture into straightening his collar—on a polo, total dick move, but she saved him, and he couldn’t help smiling. She had a good firm handshake and she looked him dead in the eye, though she was a shortie, and she had to crank her neck.
“You weren’t really going to call me Ms Bates, were you?”
That’s exactly what he’d have called her. Her kid, her house, her job. No Mr Bates. She wasn’t Audrey until she told him it was okay to call her that, and even then it felt like he should be calling her Ms Audrey like they were in Play School. They didn’t even do that in Play School any more. But she had that kind of name, old-fashioned, formal. She didn’t look old-fashioned, or formal, or old enough to be the mother of a three year old. She was pretty, glossy caramel hair and very dark blue eyes. But then he didn’t look old enough to have raised four kids already either.
“I was actually,” he said. She laughed awkwardly and he rolled his shoulders, this was still worth doing for the interview practice. “That’s lame, isn’t it?”
She shrugged, “Oh, I don’t know. Ms Bates, I could probably get used to that. Come through.” She stepped in front of him and he caught the scent of peanut butter. “But then I’d have to call you Mr McGovern.”
If it meant he got the job she could call him ‘hey you’. “I could probably get used to that.”
And he could get used to this house too. No scuff marks on the walls, no random shoes, or frilly knickers lying around. Gin was a slob and Flip never put anything she used away. No wet towel smell, which was a novelty. It was light and warm and the rooms were big and generous, the ceilings high. The house had the kind of scale that didn’t make him feel like a giant. Like he might be able to walk around in here without knocking things over or feel like an ogre in a doll’s house like he did in Sky’s tiny flat.
“You should call me Audrey, and this is Mia.”
They were in a lounge room. The TV was on, Little Mermaid. Under the Sea. Flip loved that movie. There was a line she’d sing over and over about it being better down where it’s wetter. Made him laugh every time. Like yo, Disney, one for the grown-ups. He kept humour off his face though, because dirty smirking at a singing crab wasn’t going to improve his chances.
Mia was colouring. She was a miniature version of Audrey and wore the same open-mouthed expression her mum had done at the front door during the not Reese Witherspoon moment.
He had that effect on kids. He had it on most people. You couldn’t be this big and not make people think twice about whether you were safe. Or dumb. “Hello, Mia.” He went straight to the floor, sat cross-legged a little way from her and slumped to make himself smaller. She stared, her mouth a perfect circle, her eyes shiny platters of blue.
“I’m Reece.”
Mia closed her mouth, put pressed her lips together. She tilted her head to the side. She was checking him out big time. He sat still and let her run the show.
“Reece, you don’t have to—”
Mia came a little closer, but looked over his head to her mum. “New Cameron?”
“Cameron is the name of our current nanny.”
“Reece,” he repeated, keeping his eyes on Mia, smiling at her, but not too much, that could be scary too.
Mia took a step forward, and when he remained still, she took another.
“Hello Mia.”
She made a shocked hmmm sound when he said her name and he thought he might get tears. If there were tears this was a bust. No one hired a dude who made their kid cry first up.
No one wanted to hire a dude to do this full stop.
He watched Mia’s lips and chin for any sign of a wobble. She wavered on her feet, then bent forward and touched his shin with her hand. He kept very still. She patted the laces on his shoes. Then she poked his hand, pulled the
hair his forearm. She moved closer, humming to herself, then she put both hands to his face and stared into his eyes. He stifled a shiver. She probably knew exactly how he planned to play suckerfish to Sky’s little mermaid tonight.
“Oh, Mia,” said Audrey, in that fond parent tone, the one Charlie had never used.
Reece didn’t move. Neither did Mia, but she hummed and fluttered her oversize eyelashes and held his face. She was making up her mind. He didn’t think she was going to start wailing now, the time for that had passed.
“Mia, honey, don’t do that to Reece.”
Her eyes flicked up to Audrey, then to Reece’s. She let his face go then pushed on his arm with a grunt. “Move dis.”
He lifted his arm and she perched on his knee and leant back on his side. “Read me.” Hah. He’d won the kid, but her mother was another story.
“Oh for heaven’s sake.” Audrey walked around and stood in front of them, hands to her hips. “Reece doesn’t want to read to you,” she said to Mia, and to him, “Sorry about this.”
“Why?” said Mia.