The black cab lets us off at a farmhouse surrounded by fields and overgrown grass. We're the only property as far as the eye can see. The two-story white stucco house with a black painted front door has a thatched roof. A thatched roof.

Somehow I missed that my rental property is protected from the rain by bundles of hay. The cab driver had to tell me how to refer to the bunches of, likely, mold infested straw on the top of my house. I'll have to comb the internet later for how much of a problem this is. Fingers crossed there's no mice living in the attic.

Maybe I should have flown to England to look at houses. I'm still not sure how far this place is from Bedford since the cab picked up me and Joey from the airport and brought us here.

Joey is perched on my hip, and the black cab is turning around in the spacious laneway. In my mind, I backtrack along the long gravel road, through the thick trees with little deer like creatures peeking out, and past another farmhouse with a terrier that almost got run over when it tried to bite the cab tires.

Part of me wants to retrace my steps right out of the country and back to somewhere familiar. Even the air smells different here, but that might just be the various plants spring is ushering into bloom. Everything is so lush, as though someone took a paint brush and slathered green paint across the countryside.

Two suitcases rest on either side of me. There's already a small compact car parked next to the back entrance of the property near a flowering tree. There should be a key in the house for it so I can shop for groceries, buy supplies for Joey, and otherwise get settled in during the next week before starting work.

The house is supposed to be fully furnished, but I've ordered sheets and various other odds and ends that I hope have been delivered. The company paid someone at the office here to oversee my arrival from the car to my packages.

As of right now, I still don't have a live-in nanny, and it's weighing heavily on my mind. Several people applied, but when pressed for references, they couldn't come up with any or ghosted me. Sitting in my inbox is an email from a single parent named Ashley, but I haven't emailed her back yet. No nanny experience, but she's a mom, apparently.

At least she'll have some idea of how to care for a child and run a household, unlike many of the random people who have applied. Turns out offering a better salary doesn't just attract the ideal candidates but anyone else trying to make a buck even if they don't have a clue how to care for a child or accurately separate laundry.

I set Joey on his feet, and I lift up the mat to find the heavy metal key Kate said would be here. It's in a style I've never seen before—like something out of a movie. After turning it over in my palm, I slot it into the door, and the lock tumbles open. Seems secure enough. Old doesn't necessarily mean bad, I suppose.

I sweep Joey into my arms, and I push open the door. Inside is a wide front entrance painted the same white as the exterior. On the floor is a thick red carpet with some sort of subtle diamond accent. To the right are several boxes, including one holding a car seat for Joey. I couldn't get the brand I wanted here, and the picture doesn't resemble the one I left behind in Michigan. Guess I'll have to figure that out on top of everything else.

I wander the house, and I'm pleased that most of it is in decent shape. The kitchen is spacious and has a large black stove with a double oven. If I was the type to cook big meals, that would be an exciting find. Hopefully the nanny, whoever I hire, appreciates it.

Upstairs, there are three bedrooms and three bathrooms in a modern style. Kate said the house used to be a bed and breakfast, and there's ample space. The white walls and red carpet are carried throughout, and when Joey rests his head on my shoulder, I'm reminded of the incoming jetlag.

In the middle room, I get Joey's baby monitor set up, and I find the sheet sets I had delivered down by the car seat. While he sleeps, I'll tackle the installation of the car seat and get my bearings for groceries and other necessities. Easy. All I need is a little organization and the edges of anxiety creeping in will fade away.

Yes, I'm a long way from home, but this is an exciting adventure. But I'd feel a lot better if I knew who'd be looking after Joey and everything house related a week from now. Time is ticking. I can't go to work and leave him alone, but I also can't take him into the office for my first day.

With the baby monitor tucked into my back pocket, I stare at the email from Ashley while I'm standing at the front door, the car seat box at my feet. Whoever I hire has to last me the next year. I'm not losing the bet to my sister.

Who could be better than a fellow single mother? After letting out a deep sigh, I hit reply and ask for references. Even with no nanny experience, she should be able to find people who'll say she's a good mother. If she ghosts me too, that's my answer. She's not the one.

I lug the car seat to the rear doors of the car, and I'm thrown off momentarily by everything being backwards. Wrong side of the road, wrong side of the car. While I read the installation instructions, I lean against the backdoor. Once I think I've got it straight in my head, I wrangle the seat into position and get it clipped it. I'm feeling extremely accomplished until I glance at the front center console, and my blood runs cold.

The car is a stick shift.

I've never driven a manual before.

I can't teach myself to drive a stick shift on the wrong side of the road around unfamiliar streets. Already, the roundabouts are a mini mystery to me. On the way here from the airport, some of them were huge with stoplights in the middle of them and a complicated lane system.

I'll die in this tiny car from all the things I do not know.

My phone pings with an incoming email, and I slide my device out of my pocket in disbelief. I'm so wrapped up in my transportation crisis that it takes me a minute to realize Ashley has already replied with two names who can verify her parenting skills. Tejinder and Diya.

Guess Mary Poppins was too high of a bar. I could settle for Maria from The Sound of Music. Probably won't get her, either. Might as well see how much worse my luck can get. I hit call on Tejinder's number, and when he answers, the background noise behind him is almost deafening. Heavy machines are operating close by, and after the third time explaining who I am, he seems to understand why I'm calling.

"Ash?" he yells into the phone. "Ash is a great parent. Great parent to Chloe. Cooks. Cleans. Does a bang up job with laundry."

"Good in a crisis? Organized?" There's so much noise behind him, I'm tempted to hang up. But I need a nanny, and if Ashley can work, it might be a good situation for both of us. Maybe we'll even be friends.

"Excellent in a crisis. No one better for problem solving."

I definitely value someone who can solve problems without having to be guided through every step, and since this is a new country to me, someone who can help me navigate, quite literally, would also be nice.

The rest of the day, I play phone tag with Diya, and she finally leaves a message that echoes Tejinder. Great parent. Capable. Good crisis management skills. The fact the two of them used almost the same language makes me wonder what crisis Ashley has been handling so well, but I guess if she's a single parent, it could be a terrible partner. The thought softens me.

When I email her back to let her know her references checked out and to ask a few more questions, she replies within the hour. The promptness is nice, and she seems quite genuine. Usually, I'd suggest an in-person meeting, but we're down to the wire. In a week, I start a new job, and I need someone in place.

If we meet, and there's something about her that bugs me, I'll veto her, and I can't really afford to. Instead, I ask for proof that she doesn't have a criminal record of any sort. Assuming she can provide that, she's hired. The one last major anxiety inducing decision will be checked off my list. Joey will have a nanny.

~ * ~

Six days later, the local cab companies have been getting a workout, and I'm no closer to figuring out how to drive a manual car. Tomorrow I start my new job, and I've already booked a cab to take me. That isn't a long-term solution, but I'm not taking Joey in the vehicle until I'm confident I know what I'm doing.

I've started it and stalled it a thousand times this week while I tried to figure out how to put it in reverse. For once, I couldn't YouTube my way out of it since I couldn't concentrate on the pedals and watch at the same time.

When the doorbell sounds late in the afternoon, my heart skips a beat. I've never hired a nanny without meeting them or talking to them on the phone before. We exchanged a few logistical text messages, but otherwise, I've been avoiding this moment for fear I'd discover some tiny annoyance. Ashley was my last and only hope, and it seems as though I was hers too even if she was a little abrupt in some of the messages we exchanged.

I can handle someone who's straightforward. Much better than someone who skirts around the point. But if she's someone who takes the long way around to making a decision, I can handle that too. Whatever she's like, I'll just be happy to have someone. No matter what, I'm determined to make this situation work.

Joey follows me to the entrance eating a banana, and I stand in front of the thick wood door with my fingers on the handle for a beat, gathering my best self. As much as I don't want to fire her at any point; I also don't want her to quit. My track record there is spotty, and I take a deep, steadying breath.

With a smile that I hope seems welcoming, I open the door, and immediately my smile slips. In front of me is a tall broad-shouldered man in a heather gray T-shirt, worn jeans, and boots that have seen better days. His dark brown hair is barely an inch long, and his light brown eyes have a wary tint, as though he's already decided he's not sure about me. Attached to him is a sleeping infant, and around him are suitcases and baby items.

"Can I..." I stare at him, dumbfounded. "Help you?"

"I'm Ashley, but me mates call me Ash. I think I mentioned that." His brow is furrowed, and he extends his hand.

Instinctively, I slide my palm against his, and I'm surprised by the rough texture. Calloused, as though he's spent more time outside with tools than in a house with food, bottles, and laundry. A spike of panic shoots across my chest. There must be some mistake.

Somehow I have invited a very tall, very muscular stranger-man to live with me. This can't be right. Perhaps his girlfriend is behind him somewhere. I peer around his shoulder, but there's no one else.

"I've got my DBS check. All clear." He digs a paper out of his back pocket and passes it to me. "I reckon that makes me your new nanny."

Joey clutches my leg, and my hand falls to the top of his blond head, whether it's to reassure him or myself, I'm not sure. In the doorway, I unfold the paper and stare at it blindly. I'm torn between inviting Ash in and telling him there's been some horrible mistake.

Assuming everything he told me is true, he doesn't have anywhere else to go. I'm it. He gave up his apartment to take this job. With work starting tomorrow, I'm out of options as well. How did I not realize Ashley was Ash—not a single mother, but a single father?

"Nanny?" Joey points at Ash.

"That's right, mate." Ash crouches to get eye level with him, and he's careful not to disturb the sleeping baby strapped to his chest. "Nanny Ash." A hint of a smile tugs at one edge of his lips, as though even he thinks it's a ridiculous claim.

I swallow hard, and I resist the urge to drag my phone out of my pocket to start investigating just how expensive it'll be to send my sister and her boyfriend Mark to Kenya.

One year. That's all. When I'm ninety-four, I'll barely remember this year. A blip. The tiniest bump in my life. What's one year in an entire lifetime? Nothing. I can handle living with a strange British man for a year. My heart pounds in my chest.

At least he's never been convicted of a crime.

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