‘That’s Willem, he’s the snapper. Does a lot of our catalogue shoots,’ said Max, still sorting through the box of clothes. ‘Don’t know why I haven’t thought of it before, really. I’m sick of paying corporate rates for all those location houses. Some of them charge twenty grand a day. I reckon this place could pay for itself within five years.’
Claire walked over. ‘Darling, we bought the house for quality family time together. And I spent fifteen years on photo shoots. They’re irritating and boring. Do you really want to bring them here?’
Max waved a hand. ‘We’ll see how it goes. Anyway, turns out Willem has a house in Ménerbes. Bunged him a couple of K to come down for the day.’
The young man looked up and waved, then turned back to his equipment.
Amy peered into another of the boxes piled next to the pool: kaftans, she guessed, or perhaps headscarves. It was the sort of casual leisurewear Max’s company sold by the truckload. ‘I didn’t know you had this planned.’
‘I didn’t, not until I saw Josie in the pool yesterday.’
Amy’s eyes opened wide. ‘Josie?’
Max nodded enthusiastically. ‘She was looking so glorious splashing about with the girls, the sun was all hazy, dragonflies and whatnot, and I thought – pow! – too good an opportunity to miss. Got the entire beach range Fedexed overnight.’
‘But Josie?’ stuttered Amy. ‘I mean, she’s not a model.’
Max waved a hand. ‘All the better. Models are a pain in the arse, eating lettuce and needing Evian twenty-four/seven. Anyway, our punters like to see the clothes in a natural light; they prefer the girl-next-door type. Models make them feel fat.’
Amy looked at the pool with her professional eye. Max did have a point. It looked perfect with the sun slanting off the water and the golden brick of the house in the background. But Josie? She couldn’t put her finger on it, but the idea of the girl being in a fashion shoot made her feel uncomfortable.
‘Josie is supposed to be looking after Tilly and the twins, remember?’
‘Not a problem,’ said Max, snapping his fingers. ‘Peter’s doing a show with them in the pool house while she’s in hair and make-up.’
As if on cue, Josie walked out of the house wearing one of the kaftans Amy had seen in the cardboard box. Wow, she thought. Josie’s hair was sleek and bouncy, her skin tanned and shiny. She was pretty, but not beautiful. And sexy too, in a wholesome kind of way.
‘Isn’t she magnificent?’ said Max, a pleased grin on his face, but Amy thought Josie looked awkward and nervous, standing with her arms folded defensively across her chest. She walked over to her.
‘Are you okay to do this?’ she said softly. ‘You don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable.’
The girl looked stricken. ‘I’m sorry, Amy, I didn’t think to ask. I mean, Max was so flattering, and Peter said he’d watch the girls . . .’
‘No, no, it’s fine with me,’ said Amy. ‘That’s why I asked: I know that Max can be very persuasive when he gets an idea in his head. I just wanted to check you wanted to do it.’
Josie straightened her back and smoothed her hands down her thighs, as if she were gaining control of herself. ‘I’ll do it. I don’t want to let Max down, he’s been so nice.’
‘Josie, it’s not about Max—’
‘Mummy!’ Amy was cut off as Tilly ran across and wrapped herself around her legs. ‘Where have you been? Me ’n’ Hettie and Alex are doing a play. I’m being Red Riding Hood.’
Peter was trailing behind Tilly looking exhausted. ‘Does someone else want to take over?’ he asked with a good-natured grimace.
‘I’ll be there in a minute, okay, Tilly?’ said Amy, but when she turned back, Josie was being led away by the photographer. Amy watched as she laughed at something Willem had said, her eyes lighting up, her smile wide, genuine. And suddenly she saw Josie for what she was: not their new nanny, not Karen’s daughter, just a young girl on an adventure, trying new things, having fun. Wasn’t that why Amy had offered to help her in the first place? To get her out of Potts Field, to show her another side of life, opportunities beyond the high walls of the estate? But still, she couldn’t shake her uneasy feeling.
She felt responsible for Josie, that was for sure. But she wasn’t entirely convinced that the stiffening of her back was a protective maternal instinct kicking in. No, she didn’t like watching the way Josie’s presence made Willem behave. She didn’t like to see her effect on men.
‘Mummy?’ said Tilly, her little neck craned back to see her face. ‘Do you want to come and watch our play?’
Amy smiled. ‘Of course I do.
’
She looked over at Josie again. You’ve got to stop trying to be her mother, she told herself. You’ve got an actual daughter who needs you.
‘All right, Peter,’ she said. ‘I’ll take it from here.’
‘Thanks,’ he breathed, striding off towards the house without a backwards glance.