But this is my home – not the office. Ms Pritchard’s rules do not hold here.

“You will have to wait,” I say. “I’m putting my little girl to bed.”

And I go back to the bedroom to read Leila her favourite monster story. I look up to find that Ms Pritchard is standing at the bedroom doorway.

“Who that, Mama?”

“It’s Ms Pritchard.”

“You come sit too, Miz Pritchie,” my daughter orders my boss. “You come hear me’s story too.”

So Ms Pritchard sits at the foot of the bed while I read about the monster. And Ms Pritchard laughs along with Leila when the monster is terrified by his own reflection in the mirror. She cheers along with Leila when the monster rescues his sister.

It is surreal – bizarre – sitting there on the bed with the two of them. And of course, I’m wondering what Ms Pritchard came to tell me. That I’m fired? That she is giving me a month’s notice?

“And now me’s lul-lee-by, Mama. Lul-lee-by for me and Miz Pritchie.”

Embarrassed, I begin to sing softly: Even when the wind blows … Next thing, Ms Pritchard is joining in. She has a surprisingly sweet voice. And she seems to know the rest of the song as well.

Alone she sings:
When your tears stream down in silence, when you lose all you hold dear.
When mistakes are all that matter, you have nothing left to fear.
Just remember, oh remember, I will never leave your side.

Then little Leila holds out her arms to my boss for a cuddle. “Nightie-nightie, Miz Pritchie,” she says.

I hug my little girl too and switch off the light. But as I take Ms Pritchard to the kitchen, I realise: tears are streaming down her face. This is even more surreal: my boss, in my home, crying!

She takes my hand in hers and pats it. “Oh, Jane, my dear, what a beautiful daughter you have. How I envy you. You are so lucky, so blessed. I could never have children – and that is the saddest thing in my life. I would give anything to have daughter of my own.”

For the first time, I feel sympathy for my boss. No wonder she is bad-tempered when she carries such pain in her heart! And for the first time too, I realise how ungrateful I am, how unappreciative for the good things in my life.

Ms Pritchard tells me what it is she came to tell me. Nothing to do with firing me or giving me notice. No. She has arranged for me to be paid an acting allowance while she is away.

“You’ll be doing my job, so it’s only fair,” she says.

I am grateful – surprised and grateful. It will help with the day-care bill that is still lying there on the kitchen table.

“Have a wonderful holiday,” I wish her as she leaves. And I genuinely mean it.

Then, just as I sit down with my mug of rooibos, my phone rings. Shalani. My inconsiderate, thoughtless friend, Shalani.

But no, I will not tell her about DK’s betrayal of her. I have no need for revenge. I have no need to hurt her or mess with her peace of mind. Not any longer.

True, Shalani is one lucky, blessed chick.

But so am I. So am I!

*****

Tell us what you think: Is gratitude the cure for bitterness and envy?