The Nearly-Weds Read Online Free PDF

mental health. ‘Sure,’ she replies, plonking herself next to her brother.
    I am a dedicated early-years professional, so it is obviously out of the question for me to allow the children to watch television on my first day. I mean, I’m trained to conjure up all manner of stimulating exercises aimed at broadening young minds and rewarding their progress. I can sing ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ in Urdu and construct a detailed model of a farmyard from old egg cartons. I suspect I know the words from Aliens Love Underpants, The Gruffalo and Harry and His Bucketful of Dinosaurs better than their authors do. So letting Ruby and Samuel sit in front of the goggle-box all afternoon just isn’t on. Not on my watch.
    ‘Well, I think we should play something,’ I persevere. ‘Or maybe go outside. It’s a gorgeous day.’
    As I attempt to usher them outside, I realize I can’t. Such is my exhaustion that trying to lift myself off the sofa feels like hoisting a six-ton rag-doll. Overwhelmed by fatigue, I slump back – just for a second, you understand – as my eyes plead to close.
    ‘We usually watch TV,’ Ruby tells me, flicking to Dora the Explorer , then wiping Samuel’s nose with a piece of tissue she keeps tucked in her sleeve.
    ‘Really?’ I whimper, trying to summon up the collective power of my principles, training and energy.
    ‘Uh-huh,’ she confirms.
    ‘Oh. Well, why not, then?’
    I feel myself drift into semi-slumber as I fight to keep awake and alert to what the children are up to. I have no idea how long my eyes are closed. It might have been seconds. I suspect it’s at least minutes. It’s certainly long enough for the voice that ultimately wakes me to startle me so much I almost leap out of my chair.
    ‘Hiiiyyaaaa!’
    It’s coming from the porch and has the pitch of a tribal warrior announcing that battle is about to commence. I glance at the children, but they look as bemused as I suspect I do.

Chapter 9
    It’s fair to say that Trudie Woodcock is not your archetypal British nanny. I don’t know why exactly, but it may have something to do with the generous cleavage, Charlie’s Angels hair and vertiginous wedge heels.
    Within half an hour of meeting her, however, it’s clear that Trudie’s Wagtastic sense of glamour is of little interest to Andrew and Eamonn, the two-year-old twins she looks after on the other side of the crescent. To them, Trudie is the most entertaining individual they’ve ever come across. She has boundless energy, with a discernible naughty streak, and they seem to see her as the human equivalent of a Labrador puppy – permanently in the mood for fun.
    This quality is illustrated to spectacular effect each time she breaks off from a grown-up conversation – without warning – to dive towards her charges and tickle them so vigorously that they look likely to end up in Casualty from laughing so much.
    ‘Now, come on, you two, calm down,’ Trudie gasps, attempting to catch her breath between guffaws. ‘God, I gave up smoking just before I came out here and thought I’d be super-fit by now. I don’t know what’s gone wrong.’
    ‘Not ready to run your first triathlon yet, then?’
    ‘I’d be better prepared to run for president,’ she puffs.
    I giggle. ‘How long have you been here?’
    ‘A month and a half. And I hope you haven’t come here to meet a fella because, let me warn you, the talent here isn’t exactly world class. In Hope Falls, at least.’
    I don’t bother telling her that that’s the last thing on my mind. I’ve already found the man of my dreams – even though the end of our relationship was the stuff of nightmares.
    ‘I’d make an exception, though,’ continues Trudie, lowering her voice.
    ‘Oh?’
    ‘Your man.’
    ‘What man?’
    ‘Your man here! Ryan!’
    ‘Ssssh!’ I check the children didn’t hear. ‘Do you really think so?’ I ask casually. ‘I hadn’t noticed.’
    ‘Bloody right I think so!’
    ‘Well,’ I