A SMALL PROBLEM?
Small? I have to find a husband in less than a month, he wants me to take care of his baby niece and Adam Wavell thinks that's a "small" problem?
Sorry, I'm May Coleridge. Liz has taken off for a week and she asked me to keep an eye on her blog but I see that Adam got here first. But then I have a business to run, a baby to take care of and Adam moving in...
He's right about me always being in trouble, though.
As if I didn't have enough to worry about there was this stray kitten up a tree.
Adam, typically, didn't arrive in time to do anything useful. Like help. He just stood there enjoying the view while he made fun of me, just he the way he always did. Calling me that ridiculous nickname.
Maybe I should have called him Penfold. He did wear glasses back then. I suppose he's had his eyes lasered, because they are history. Not that I could ever think that straight when he was close. Not then. Not now, to be honest.
But I certainly fixed him today. I didn't fall into his lap as he suggested, I flattened him.
Well, okay, I'm no lightweight but he dines with presidents these days and you'd have thought he might have learned some manners to go with the designer suits, the luxurious bachelor apartment on the Quays. The success.
Maybe I should tell him how he got his job, that would wipe the smug smile off his face. But he's right. I need him as much as he needs me. And it's only temporary. He needs a nanny, someone who won't ask awkward questions - like where is the baby's mother. And I need a husband. Needs must...