The Italian Surgeon Claims His Bride. Alison Roberts
was an only child, too,’ Maria reminded her. She waved her hand apologetically at Jenna. ‘Louise and I are both widows,’ she added, as though that explained everything.
Which it did to some extent. This baby was very important to them both as the sole member of the next generation of their families. Jenna was aware of how close Italian families were so Louise must be very determined to keep her stake in Danielle’s upbringing.
They were both determined and, for some reason, in competition with each other.
Interpersonal politics could detract from any job. Condensed into an intimate domestic situation that encompassed inevitable cultural differences and included an outsider such as herself could make a working environment intolerable. The warning bells were ringing loud and clear for Jenna.
So did the cry from Danielle. Maria stood up immediately and went to the playpen. The baby held up her arms and Jenna could see it wasn’t easy for the older woman to pick her up.
‘Oh, dear, you’re very wet, aren’t you?’ Maria cuddled the baby. ‘You need a clean nappy, cara.’
‘I’ll do it.’ With smooth grace, Louise rose and took the baby, allowing no time for protest. ‘You may as well show Jennifer the flat.’
May as well? Was she going to be allowed to view living quarters she wasn’t going to be using just to fill in time while Danielle was having her nappy changed?
‘Yes, of course!’ Maria seemed eager to comply. ‘Come with me, Jenna.’
Reluctantly, Jenna followed Maria. The self-contained flat was attached to the vast old house through a short passageway that was accessed through a large, gleaming kitchen. Yet another older woman was busy near the sink. She glanced up curiously as Maria led Jenna across the tiled floor.
‘This is Jenna,’ Maria said. ‘I’m going to show her the flat. I hope she might be joining us to help look after Ella. Jenna, this is Shirley. She helps me in the house. You wouldn’t be expected to take on cleaning duties, which I know are expected of some nannies. Or cooking. I love to cook. I teach Italian cookery at the evening classes.’
Shirley gave Jenna an up-and-down glance and clearly liked what she saw. ‘You’ll like the flat,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘Would you like a cup of coffee when you’re done?’
‘Maybe later,’ Maria said. ‘When Paolo gets home.’ She seemed keen to usher Jenna through the door of what must have originally been servants’ quarters.
It had clearly been upgraded considerably. The sitting room was tiny but tastefully decorated and it contained a television, music system and well-stocked bookshelf. The bedroom looked comfortable and there was a sparkling bathroom and a small kitchen area with a microwave and facilities for making tea and coffee.
‘You would have complete access to the kitchen, of course. And the laundry,’ Maria said. ‘There’s a—what do you call them? The baby-radio thing?’
‘A baby monitor?’
‘Yes, thank you. Ella can sometimes be hard to get to sleep but when she is sleeping, she doesn’t wake often at night.’ Maria raised her eyebrows. ‘What do you think?’
Shirley hadn’t been mistaken. ‘It’s a lovely flat,’ Jenna said sincerely.
‘Do you think you might like to take the position?’
‘Ah…’ Jenna let her doubts show. ‘Can I ask how you’ve been managing up till now?’
‘We had a nanny. She left two days ago. Louise didn’t…ah…find her suitable. There was an argument and…’ The shrug was eloquent. It suggested that falling out with Louise was a terminal condition.
‘Mrs Gibbs obviously doesn’t think I’m particularly suitable either.’
‘It is not just her decision. It is Paolo who has the final say.’ But Maria sighed. She cast a glance over her shoulder at the door she had closed behind them. ‘Louise is very protective of Ella,’ she said. ‘And of Gwendolyn’s memory. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but she thinks that any woman who comes into the household is going to…um…’
‘Make a play for Danielle’s father?’ Jenna supplied helpfully. Hardly a suggestion from left field, given the attractions obvious in that wedding photo. Judging by this house, he had a very wealthy background. His fame as a surgeon was another hefty drawcard and his Mediterranean background would be the icing on the cake for some women.
Maria was nodding unhappily. ‘Ridiculous, I know. Of course, I hope that Paolo does find someone eventually and that Ella will have brothers and sisters but I suspect Louise is determined that no one is going to try and step into her Gwendolyn’s shoes.’
Jenna almost smiled. Talk about offputting. Louise Gibbs would be the mother-in-law from hell, irrespective of whether she was related to her granddaughter’s stepmother. ‘I can assure you I have absolutely no interest in forming a relationship with any man at this point in my life. I’m very happily single for the moment.’
Which was absolutely true. Jenna wasn’t about to complicate her life with the potential for more unhappiness and even if she was open to meeting someone, there were a lot of qualities far more important than looks or the state of bank accounts. Intelligence for one. And compassion. And a sense of humour. Tolerance and warmth and…
‘So you might consider taking this position?’
Jenna focussed again with a blink. ‘I still don’t understand quite why you want someone with my qualifications.’
Maria was silent for a moment. And then she gave another small, resigned sigh. ‘You’ve probably noticed that Louise is a lot younger than I am. I was nearly forty when I had Paolo and Gwen was ten years younger than him. Louise is only forty-two. I’m seventy-four and things are not as good as they used to be,’ Maria continued quietly. ‘Artrite. Arth-aritis. Another bone thing I can’t pronounce.’
‘Osteoporosis?’
‘Yes.’ Maria nodded approvingly. ‘I think so. And I have the blood…Oh, what is it? La pressione alta.’
Translation seemed surprisingly easy. ‘High blood pressure? Hypertension?’
Maria nodded again. ‘Si.’ As she relaxed into her confidences, her accent became stronger—her English less perfect. ‘And now I have been told I have the diabetes. The bad one.’
‘Type one? You need insulin injections?’
‘Yes. Iniezione. The needles. I have to start them soon. Tomorrow, maybe. I have an appointment with the doctor. It’s difficult. Sometimes my English is not as good as it should be for being here in Nuova Zelanda for more than twenty years. Shirley has been helping me but she knows no more than I do. We are like—how do you say it? The blind leading the blind.’
At last, Jenna understood at least part of what had made this interview so puzzling. It wasn’t the baby who was the potential patient. It was Maria. The older woman touched her arm. It was almost a plea.
‘Paolo needs time to get used to being a father by himself. I don’t wish him to know that it is difficult for me to help. If we were still in Italy, it would be no problem, of course, but Paolo will not consider leaving his job and families are not the same here, are they? If Ella was taken to Auckland by Louise, she would be lost to us and that would be…a tragedia.’
Dark brown eyes that had not faded with age were swimming with tears. ‘It’s not for me,’ Maria said. ‘And it’s not just that Louise doesn’t share the same things of importance in raising a bambino. It’s because Ella needs her papa. And he needs her. He just hasn’t realised it yet.’
In other words, Jenna would be stepping into an emotional minefield. The passions of an Italian family on the one side and a cold and determined woman, possibly obsessed with the memory of her daughter, on the other. Hardly the easy job she had anticipated but