I look meaningfully at Minnie. This is her cue. She’s supposed to say ‘Walk! Nature!’ I coached her, and everything. But instead she’s gazing longingly at the TV in the sitting room.
‘Peppa Pig,’ she begins. ‘Mine Peppa Pig—’
‘We can’t see a real pig, darling!’ I interrupt hastily. ‘But let’s go on a nature walk and discuss the environment!’
I’m quite proud of the nature-walk idea. It counts as good parenting and it’s really easy. You just have to walk along and say, ‘There’s an acorn! There’s a squirrel!’ every so often. And Nanny Sue will have to admit defeat. She’ll have to give us ten out of ten and say she can’t improve on a perfect family, and Luke will be totally sussed.
When I’ve put on Minnie’s boots (tiny pink Uggs, so sweet), I reach in my bag and produce four dark-grey velvet ribbons, sewn in a bow and backed with Velcro. I did them last night, and they look really good.
‘We’d better take the Naughty Ribbons,’ I say ostentatiously.
‘Naughty Ribbons?’ enquires Nanny Sue politely.
‘Yes, I noticed from your TV show that you don’t use the Naughty Step while you’re out and about. So I’ve created a ‘Naughty Ribbon’. They’re very simple, but effective. You just Velcro them on to the child’s coat when they’re naughty.’
‘I see.’ Nanny Sue doesn’t venture an opinion, but that’s obviously because she’s seething with jealousy and wishes she’d thought of it first.
Honestly, I think I might become a child expert. I have far more ideas than Nanny Sue, and I could give fashion advice too.
I usher her out of the house and we start heading down the drive. ‘Look, Minnie, a bird!’ I point at some creature flapping out of a tree. ‘Maybe it’s endangered,’ I add solemnly. ‘We have to protect our wildlife.’
‘A pigeon?’ says Nanny Sue mildly. ‘Is that likely to be endangered?’
‘I’m being green.’ I give her a reproving look. Doesn’t she know anything about the environment?
We walk along for a while and I point out a few squirrels. Now we’re approaching the parade of shops at the end of Mum’s road, and I can’t help glancing right, just to see what they have in the antique shop.
‘Shop!’ says Minnie, tugging on my hand.
‘No, we’re not going shopping, Minnie.’ I give her an indulgent smile. ‘We’re going on a nature walk, remember? Looking at nature.’
‘Shop! Taxi!’ She sticks her hand confidently out into the road and yells even louder, ‘TAXI! TAX-EEEE!’ After a moment, the taxi at the head of the rank rumbles forward towards us.
‘Minnie! We’re not getting a taxi! I don’t know why she’s done that,’ I add quickly to Nanny Sue. ‘It’s not like we take taxis all the time—’
‘Minnie!’ comes a cheerful, booming voice. ‘How’s my best little customer?’
Damn. It’s Pete, who usually drives us to Kingston when we go shopping.
I mean, not that we go that often.
‘Pete sometimes drives us to the … the … educational soft-play centre,’ I say quickly to Nanny Sue.
‘Tax-eee!’ Minnie is getting that red-cheeked, angry-bull look. Oh God. I can’t risk a tantrum in front of Nanny Sue. Maybe we could take a taxi somewhere.
‘So.’ Pete leans out of his window. ‘Where is it today, my beauties?’
‘Star-bucks,’ enunciates Minnie carefully before I can speak. ‘Starbucks-shops.’
‘Your usual, then?’ Pete says cheerfully. ‘Hop in!’
I feel my face flood with colour.
‘We’re not going to Starbucks, Minnie!’ I say shrilly. ‘What a … a crazy idea! Could you take us to the educational softplay centre, please, Pete? That one in Leatherhead that we go to all the time?’
My eyes are fixed desperately on his, willing him not to say, ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Muffin?’ Minnie turns hopeful eyes on me. ‘Muffin Starbucks?’
‘No, Minnie!’ I snap. ‘Now, you be a good girl or you’ll get a Naughty Ribbon.’ I take the Naughty Ribbon out of my bag and brandish it ominously at her. Instantly Minnie holds her hands out.
‘Mine! Miiiine!’
She wasn’t supposed to want the Naughty Ribbon.
‘Maybe later,’ I say, flustered, and shove it back in my bag. This is all Nanny Sue’s fault. She’s putting me off.
We get in and I buckle Minnie up, and Pete pulls away from the kerb.