I’ve been scammed – by a fake nanny

You don’t watch airplane disaster movies when you’re just about to get on a flight. But I just rewatched The Hand That Rocks the Cradle before a trial day with a new nanny. Now the catchphrase “The hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world” is on repeat in my head before she’s even walked in through the door. I mean, this is a movie about murder and revenge – so I’m on high alert – but I somehow still manage to get scammed.

I’m looking at her psychological behaviours rather than her skills – and thank God I am – because when I caught her red-handed cleaning the toilet with the same sponge she had cleaned the kitchen table with – I sensed she was unstable.

Without a thread of common sense, how could I let this woman on the loose with my kids? She told me she was a “nanny housekeeper” which sounded grand by my standards. Therefore, by the sheer job title alone, I expected she could clean. So when she started scrubbing the top of the oven with Flash bleach and an old hard dry kitchen cloth that snapped in half because she hadn’t used any water, at first I wondered if it was a cleaning hack that had passed me by?

When she emptied the mop of pitch-black floor water from Muggles’s muddy feet into the newly cleaned bath, I was aghast. I thought, ‘Does she have early-onset dementia?’ What else would happen as the day unfolded?

“Get her out,” said Chloe Maldives over the phone, “Or next she will be cleaning Liberty’s face with the toilet rag.”

She didn’t even get a chance to meet the kids because the moment I saw her get a frying pan out to cook the pasta, it was the final straw and I just called it a day. There is no other explanation; she’s masquerading as a nanny/housekeeper and I’ve been scammed.

Ok, I nearly fell for the hoax Royal Mail text telling me I missed a delivery and need to pay a £2.99 fee to receive my parcel; I received an automated phone call saying HMRC is filing a lawsuit against me and to press “1” to make a payment. I didn’t fall for that NHS one asking me to provide my bank details in order to receive the coronavirus vaccine.  I’m not a victim of ghost broking either when you’re tricked into buying cheap bogus car insurance. It’s not like my bank account has been emptied – I’m in my overdraft anyway.

I’ve been scammed by a fake nanny. It’s almost worse as it’s in your own home. I should count my lucky stars it wasn’t as bad as some other horror stories. One friend’s nanny from The Lady phoned the horoscope line in Sydney and left the phone off the hook on loudspeaker at great cost – before robbing her blind – while my friend’s dad was dying in hospital.  

Other stories are harder to relate to. Sienna Spring Rose’s mum, who I met at Lola’s new ballet class, was telling me she treated the nanny as a member of the family until she started helping herself to cash when she realised that they rarely checked their bank accounts.

It makes you wonder: how do you know your kids are safe with anybody but yourself? If somebody is dishonest – even once ­– how can you trust them with your precious cargo? How could this nanny have really been a housekeeper nanny in north London? It’s literally impossible. It’s like me pretending to be a car mechanic. She has no idea.

She had been recommended by another nanny I met at Liberty’s nursery. She told me she had left her previous job after two years because her employer had lost his job during the pandemic. Even with references – I had one plus a photo of her passport and work permit – how do you know if you are talking to an employee or an accomplice to the scam?

It takes me back to when I recommended Alex’s building company to a potential new client – it was true he had done my extension and done it well – but he was living with me. As his girlfriend, I was not in a position to be objective plus I got a 30 per cent discount on labour and a backhander (a pair of Ray-Bans).

It’s made me reassess everything. Firstly, I’m a single mum. Alex is dead. My kids would be orphans if anything happened to me. My mum is dead. Who would I leave my kids with if something – God forbid – happened to me? I need to be organised. Plus I have a giant dog I don’t want to be sent to Battersea Dog’s Home.

I ask my sister Rebecca who she has lined up? Could it be me? My heart pounds. I’m surely the closest person to her. But no, to my horror, my sister tells me she has bypassed the family and asked her former kid’s nanny to be the legal guardian in the event of her and her husband’s death. I’m shell-shocked. Good God, does that mean I should ask the dog walker rather than my own flesh and blood?

My kids have seen more of her during lockdown than any of my siblings. She’s doubled up as the nanny when needed  – and is Muggles godparent anyway. They could all stay together – my sister would never take Muggles. I need unity. I know it sounds odd. But whose family isn’t a bit mad?

I’m still scratching my head thinking who should be the legal guardian days later. How about my mum friend at the school gate who whizzes the kids to after-school activities and makes her child homemade hummus for lunch? The super-rich godfather? Alex’s mum? Then I have a lightbulb moment. Maybe they could all do it in a collective? I think that’s the best plan – then the kids have the best of all worlds, but let the dog walker hold the fort – because after all, Muggles and the kids are one family.