“Hey Barry, it’s Becky. Abby is with me at ballet class. Please call me when you get this message and arrange to come and pick her up.”

“So, you’re Abby’s mum?” one of the women asked.

Becky shook her head. “No,” she said with a smile, “I’m her nanny.”

Becky was used to the looks she usually got with that statement. Other mothers didn’t seem to trust her or think that she was in their league because she got paid to look after a child. What they ...