I realised that I needed to get my skates on, find a nanny and get everything sorted. I began to panic. I called Poppy for advice. She was really helpful and gave me the names of a few more websites. Plus she told me she had spoken to Maggie, her cleaning lady, and that Maggie's daughter, Aislin, was available for work, and even better, had previous experience in childcare.

By Monday afternoon I had lined up three interviews for Wednesday. The first two were coming through the agency in Putney, a Spanish girl called Elena, who was in her early twenties, and Betty a local woman, who was fifty three. I had arranged directly with Aislin to meet her too. I was secretly hoping the Spanish girl would work out and that all four of us would be speaking Spanish within the year. Wasn't that how Gwyneth Paltrow had done it? If it was good enough for Gwyneth...

Charles had muttered something about me handling it all, but I wasn't having that. I insisted he interview the prospective nannies with me, arguing that it was important to have two perspectives on the candidates. Hiring a nanny is never straightforward. You want a paediatric nurse who cooks like a Cordon Bleu chef and has Blue Peter-type arts and crafts skills. But you don't want her to be so wonderful that your children end up preferring her to you. You want someone who is smart enough to handle any crisis that may come along while you're at work, but you don't want someone telling you how to raise your children. You want someone who is firm with the children, but not bossy or stern. You want someone who will give the children hugs, but not too many. You want someone who will keep the house tidy, but not spend time vacuuming when she could be teaching them the fine art of origami.

The problem is you want someone who loves and cherishes your children as much as you, but who will not take your place. That's why grandparents make the best child minders, because they love the children as much as you do, but they don't want to be parents again. At the end of their minding, they're happy to hand them over.

I made a list of questions I wanted to ask, things I felt would reveal the candidates' true personalities and help me make the right choice.

On Wednesday morning, Charles sat in his tracksuit, jiggling his legs and looking at his watch. Elena arrived very punctually at nine thirty. I flung open the door, ready to love her.

Elena was drop-dead gorgeous and wearing a very short, tight sundress with no bra. I took one look at her and knew there was no way this stunner was getting the job. I opened my mouth to tell her to go straight home, but then I thought it would be rude, so I reluctantly invited her in.

Charles was texting when we walked into the room. When he looked up and saw Elena, he dropped his phone. He actually dropped his phone - I couldn't believe it. It landed with a thud on the floor. My decision never to hire Elena or anyone who looked like her was confirmed when I saw his face. What was it about older men and young girls? The men turn into complete idiots around them. I'd seen it at work all the time when young models entered the room and every man over forty would drool as they walked by. It was harmless, but at the same time a bit pathetic.

Women didn't do that. Mind you, I had found myself lusting after Taylor Lautner in the Twilight movies. I was appalled when I found out he was only twenty when he'd made the first. I felt like a dirty old woman but he was very hot...

Charles jumped up. 'Very nice to meet you Elena. Please have a seat.' He led her to a chair. 'Can I get you a drink?'

'No, Gracias, I am fine.'

'Are you sure? It's no trouble at all,' Charles persisted.

'No, thank you.'

'Not even a glass of water?'

'Charles! I snapped. 'She's not thirsty.' I turned my attention to the pretend interview, and asked Elena about her childcare experience.

'Well, I love chil-deren. I am having the brothers and sisters at home in Espana and I am playing with them all day.'

'That sounds fantastic,' James enthused.

I glared at him, but he was too busy staring at Elena's chest to notice. I tapped the information sheet the agency had given me. 'It says here that you are currently with a family in London. But you've only been with them two months and you want to leave. Why is that?'

Elena looked down. 'The mummy is not very nice to me. She say mean things to me.'

'That's terrible,' Charles said, his voice dripping with sympathy and indignation at her plight.

'What kind of things does she say?' I asked.

Elena pouted. 'That I am taking too long in the shower and that I am too slow ironing the clothes and that I am bad at the cooking.'

Was this girl really that stupid? First, she turns up for an interview in a skin tight mini dress with no bra on and then she proceeds to complain about her current employer.

'She sounds like a very difficult woman,' Charles said, as if he'd like to go and give her a piece of his mind. 'I can assure you, there will be none of those unpleasant comments if you work here.'

'Are you a good cook?' I enquired, before Charles jumped in and offered her the job on the spot. I could see her now, prancing about in her teeny-tiny skirts, spatula in one hand and Spanish olive oil in the other. Over my dead body...

Elena shrugged. 'I am OK. I can make the toast and the scrambly eggs.'

I suddenly had the urge to laugh. This girl should be on a TV show. She was ridiculous. 'What about ironing? Are you slow?'

'Molly!' Charles interrupted. 'I'm sure Elena is a perfectly good ironer. Besides, there's not a lot of ironing to do here.'

Charles turned to Elena and smiled. 'I wear a lot of sports gear, you see, because I coach a rugby team.'

Elena's eyes widened. 'I am loving the sports. I like to jogging very much.'

'I can see you're very fit.'

'Charles!'

'What?'

'Inappropriate!'

'Maybe you could 'elp me be more fit.' Elena beamed at him.

I'd had enough of this girl. She could go and flirt with someone else's husband. I stood up. 'My husband will not be helping you with your fitness regime. Now it's clear that you are not remotely suitable for this job.' I frog marched Elena to the front door. 'Thanks for coming, but let's not take up any more of your time. I would suggest you wear jeans and a jumper to your next interview. Mothers do not appreciate nipples. Bye now.'

By the time Charles had got to the door, it was closed. 'That was very rude,' he said.

'No, Charles, staring at a young girl's cleavage and dribbling is rude.'

'I was not.'

'Oh yes you were, and if you think for one nano-second that you think I would have her going for late-night jogs with you and doing lunges in the front room, you've another thing coming.'

Charles flexed his muscles 'I was looking forward to showing her some of my moves.'

I raised an eyebrow. 'What moves? The diving-on-the-couch move? The flicking-the-remote-control move? Or your piece de resistance, the opening-a-can-of-lager move?

Charles grinned. 'Very witty darling, I'll have you know that I've been training with the team every day. I'm feeling much fitter.'

He looked it. For a man of forty-three, Charles was very attractive. Sometimes I wondered what he saw in me. When I was dressed up I looked good, but day-to-day I felt plain. People, mostly my mother, were always telling me how handsome and charming, Charles was and it made me feel paranoid. I felt as if they thought I wasn't worthy of him, as if he'd somehow married beneath him, punched below his weight.

I made a resolution. It was time for me to lose the extra weight I'd been carrying and shake up my wardrobe. London was a good place to start. Liz could help me pick out some age appropriate but edgy clothes. It would be easier to diet once I started work. No more home-made flapjacks for the kids- the majority of which I ended up eating. As soon as I started work it would be a skinny latte on the run and a low-fat yogurt for lunch.

As Elena left, the next candidate, Betty, arrived for her interview. The minute I saw her, I felt I had found the perfect nanny. Betty was primly dressed in a long-sleeved blouse, sensible navy slacks and scholl sandals. She was the kind of woman who wore a strong bra and big pants. There was no fear of Charles running away with her. She was more vicar's wife than femme fatale.

'So, Betty, you said when we spoke on the phone that you have experience in childminding,' I said, after we'd done the introductions.

Betty nodded, placing her handbag on her lap. It was like one of those handbags the Queen carries - a black square with a big clip on the top. 'I do Indeed, Mrs James. I've raised my own four children and I've been a nanny to two other families since. One had three children and the last family had two, like you.'

I loved being addressed as Mrs James: it was very Downton Abbey. I could get used to this. I pictured Betty bringing me breakfast in bed on a big wooden tray with legs. She'd place a linen napkin across my lap and pour my cup of Earl Grey. Then she'd open my curtains and set my clothes out for the day. It would be lovely...

'Excellent, and what kind of things would you do with the children to keep them occupied?' I asked.

'I believe that children need a strict routine. The problem with this country is lack of discipline in the youth. Mark my words, if children today had stricter parents, none of this looting and rioting would ever take place.'

Charles banged his knee with his hand. 'I couldn't agree more, Betty.'

Hold on a minute. I was not happy with the direction the conversation was taking. I didn't approve of slapping or smacking or the wooden spoon, or any of that kind of discipline. I was no saint, I regularly shouted at the children and I wasn't proud of it, but I did not approve of physical violence and I certainly wasn't about to hire someone who did.

'Oh Mr James,' Betty gushed, 'It's so nice to meet a young man who isn't afraid to spank his children. The way some children speak to their parents, these days, it'd make your hair stand on end. I even heard a child in the park yesterday telling his mother to shut up. He couldn't have been more than six. I tell you if my children had ever spoken to me with such a lack of respect, I'd have given them a good wallop on the bottom and they'd never have done it again.' But all this woman said was "Don't be rude." That child will grow up to b a sociopath. A good smack would have sorted him out.'

I was liking Betty less and less by the second. I did not want to come back from work to find Alexei's bottom black and blue. 'Hold on!' I interrupted. 'Let me be very clear here, Betty. There is no spanking in this house. Ever.'

'Except between consenting adults.' Charles winked and, despite my best efforts to remain in serious interview mode, I began to laugh.

Betty didn't crack a smile.

The third interview was with Aislin. She was small with thick brown hair tied back in a ponytail and nice blue eyes. She wore no make-up and was dressed in track suit bottoms and a baggy t-shirt, which made her look younger than nineteen. I was very glad to see that she was wearing a bra and, unlike the previous candidates, that she didn't look as if she wanted to either sleep with Charles or beat up the kids.

So Aislin, where are you from in Ireland? I asked.

'I'm originally from Carrick-on-Shannon in Leitrim, but I moved to London with my mum a year ago.'

'Why did you decide to come here?' Charles asked.

Aislin blushed and looked down at her hands. 'Well...the thing is...you see...I...' She hesitated, flustered.

'It's all right, take your time,' I said, wondering what on earth she was going to say. She seemed very upset about her reasons for leaving Ireland. I hoped it wasn't anything sinister.

She took a breath. 'I was bullied in school. It got really bad last year so my mum decided it was best to take me out of school before my finals and start a new life over here.' She blushed.

'That's terrible. You poor thing.' I felt really sorry for her- I could see how upset she was. She seemed so young and fragile.

Aislin nodded. 'It was awful. The other girls made fun of me because I didn't have expensive clothes or a cool phone.'

'Girls can be cruel.' Charles was clearly feeling sorry for her too.

'Yes. There was also a teacher who was really mean to me.'

What kind of school had she been in? 'A teacher? But that's shocking. Did you report them?' I asked. She shrugged. 'Yes, but no one believed me. The headmistress took his word over mine. He said I was imagining it, so my mum said it was best if we left.'

Charles asked Aislin about previous childminding experience. 'I worked in a local play school when I first moved over. It was maternity cover, but then the lady came back and I was let go. I loved working with the kids-they were brilliant. I have a reference from the lady who runs the play school.'

She handed Charles a copy. She seemed much more at ease now. She'd found it hard to tell us about the bullying, but I could see she was actually quite a capable girl.

Charles and I read the reference together: Aislin was helpful, kind, patient and, although she was quiet, she was very good at interacting with the children, especially the younger ones.

'Great reference.' I handed it back. 'The job will also involve doing some light housework and cooking simple meals for the children. How does that sound?'

Aislin smiled. 'No problem'

'Perfect' I smiled at her. I liked this girl. I looked over at Charles, who winked and nodded his approval.

'OK Aislin, you're hired!' I said, holding out my hand to shake hers.

Aislin jumped from her seat. 'Really?' She grasped my hand eagerly.

'Absolutely. I want someone nice taking care of our children.'

'Wow! I'm so thrilled! Thank you.' Aislin blushed again.

'Can you stay for a bit? I'd like you to meet Alexei and Lara.'

Charles stood up. 'I'm sorry, but I really have to go. Nice to meet you, Aislin.' He held out his hand. She shook it shyly.

I walked Charles to the door. 'Do you think she'll be Ok?' He kissed me in the forehead. 'She seems nice, a bit shy but she'll be fine. Now I really have to go, should be home by about six, love you!'

'Love you too!' I waved him off and closed the door.

'Now Aislin, let's introduce you to your new charges. Welcome to our home!'