When Lara’s six-year-old son called her in the middle of the day and whispered that he was scared, she rushed home, only to find the nanny unconscious and the past clutching at her. In a panic, Lara had to face the one memory she had tried to bury: the day she and Ben found his father dead.
You don’t expect your world to fall apart on Friday at 2:25 p.m. You expect an email, maybe a quick coffee from the vending machine. But not the voice of your six-year-old son whispering fear into your ear, as if it’s the only thing holding him together.
I’m Lara, 30, a single mother trying to juggle it all — a full-time job, full-time chaos, the constant feeling that I’m carrying a tray of glass that’s always on the verge of shattering.
My son, Ben, is the centre of my universe. He’s one of those boys who not only feels his own emotions, but absorbs those of others. He’s soft-hearted, wide-eyed, and the kind of boy who brings worms home in his pockets because he doesn’t want them to be lonely in the rain.
Ruby, our nanny, is 21. She is gentle, calm, and Ben immediately felt safe with her.
She became part of our rhythm. She was careful with him. Attentive. Generous. Madly in love. She even remembered what phase of dinosaur he was in. Right now, it was the Allosaurus.
Ruby was my assistant. If something happened at work, Ruby was the first person I called. I had no reason to doubt her.
Until Friday.
No caller ID. A missed call. Then another.
I reached for my coffee when my phone buzzed again, and something compelled me to answer.
‘Mummy?’ Ben’s voice was so faint I could barely hear him.
My whole body tensed.
‘Ben? What’s wrong?’
There was breathing. And something else. Silence that lasted too long.
‘I’m scared,’ he whispered. His voice broke in the middle, as if something inside him had cracked.
‘Where’s Ruby, baby? What’s she doing?’
‘I don’t know… she was standing there, and then… she was gone.’
My heart sank and my hands shook. I turned on the speakerphone.
‘What do you mean? Is she hurt?’
‘I think so. She fell. I tried to help her, but she won’t wake up.’
Oh, God.
‘Where are you now, baby?’
‘I’m hiding in the closet. I didn’t know what else to do. The glass of water fell out of her hand, but she wasn’t moving. Her eyes were open, but not like usual.’
‘Ben, stay where you are. I’ll be right there, okay? You’re not alone. Just hang in there.’
I didn’t log out of the system. I didn’t tell my boss. I just grabbed my bag and ran. Every light turned red. Every second dragged on too long. I drove as if I could bend time if I pressed the accelerator harder.
When I turned onto our street, everything looked… still.
The door was locked. The curtains were drawn, which was nothing new. Ruby and Ben did that when they wanted to watch something.
For a moment, the world seemed… different.
I burst through the front door.
‘Ben?! It’s Mum!’
Silence.
I tried again, louder, completely forgetting that he had said he was in the cupboard. Panic rose in my throat.
Then I heard him. Faint. A cry.
‘In the closet…’
I found him curled up in the hall closet, hugging his dinosaur as if it were the only solid thing in the world. His knees were pulled up to his chest. His little fingers were trembling. I sat down on the floor and hugged him.
‘I didn’t know what to do,’ he said, his voice muffled as he buried his face in my shoulder. ‘I tried to help her.’
‘You did everything right,’ I whispered, brushing his hair back and trying not to break down.
He smelled of sweat, fear, and the earthy scent of a little boy that always reminded me of dough and chalk. His body was shaking. But he wasn’t crying.
Not then. Not yet.
‘Where is she, baby?’
He pointed to the living room. And everything inside me turned upside down.
I stood there, my heart pounding in my throat, moving slowly, as if one wrong step could wake up the nightmare.
And then I saw her.
Ruby.
Why hadn’t I called an ambulance? In my rush to get home to Ben, I had completely forgotten. Now I felt useless.
She was lying on her side, one arm twisted, the other pressed against the carpet as if it didn’t belong to her. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth was slightly open, as if she was trying to say something.
A dark stain spread from the broken glass of water. A folded pillow lay next to her head.
And on her forehead — Ben’s doing — was a cold pack from the freezer, which I used to treat bruised knees and elbows.
The scene seemed wrong, too quiet, like a photograph left in the sun too long. It was flat. Surreal.
I rushed to her. I pressed my fingers to her neck. There was a pulse.
‘Thank God,’ I muttered.
Ruby was breathing shallowly, her skin was clammy. She was alive, but barely responsive. Her eyelashes fluttered once, then fell still.
Ben saw it. He saw her fall. Perhaps he thought she was dead.