‘In my area they all do it, but I simply cannot condone spying on the nanny’

With encouragement from her neighbours, Charlotte Cripps contemplates buying a nanny cam to see what really goes on while she’s at work

(Amara)

My rich neighbours are full of useful tips. They have a secret device on their front door that can check what time people come and go; so if their cleaner moans about not having enough time to finish the job, but leaves 45 minutes early, they are ahead of the game. It was the same neighbour who suggested that I get CCTV in my flat to make sure that Rosalee, the nanny, didn’t just put the kids in front of the TV all afternoon, and play Candy Crush.

I did look – rather idly I admit – into various gadgets including cameras hidden in alarm clocks, picture frames and fire extinguishers. “PC World,” my friend had said matter of factly, was where I should be heading after lunch for a secret nanny cam. But I just couldn’t bring myself to spy on her – it was totally and morally wrong. Of course I would like to know how often in a day my baby is strapped into her pram – probably all morning, for all I knew – watching YouTube videos of nursery rhymes.

And since Lola has developed a strong American drawl and was calling me “Mom”, I could only assume she is watching her fair share of American TV shows, which the nanny must be letting her watch. But for how long?

When I ask Rosalee to read them books and get out the Lego, does she do it? It is very hard to gauge what her day has been like – especially now Lola is at nursery and Liberty can’t speak. A nanny cam would give me an idea of what happens every day. But even if I got one, wouldn’t I be slightly nervous about what I am going to find out? Perhaps ignorance is bliss?

I bump into a friend, who is a private detective. He directs me to a spy shop online. He says they are good but he doesn’t use gadgets – he uses himself to spy.

Online I do a bit of window shopping. I find a socket lead with a wifi spy camera with all four working sockets to power other electrical items in the normal manner, but also conceal a professional HD internet camera, capable of live streaming video footage, with audio to my smartphone, anywhere in the world. The beauty of this device is that I have an exact replica of this plug already in the front room. I would need to move it so the camera on the front of it is pointed in the right direction, but as long as she didn’t move it back to its original place, then it should be ok.

I’m getting carried away as I look at other products. Yes, It looks less suspicious than the air freshener, or a wall clock suddenly appearing in the room. And I definitely can’t afford to get one installed in a fluffy toy.

I imagine, excitedly, getting my nanny cam set up before Rosalee arrives on Monday morning. “I’ll get you now Rosalee. You think you are pulling the wool over my eyes. Well, you have another thing coming.” “Ha ha ha,” I chuckle to myself in my witchy woo woo way.

“Everyone is at it,” the neighbour tells me. “If people didn’t secretly record their relatives in care homes being pushed off armchairs by care assistants, how do you think anybody would get caught?”

If people didn’t secretly record their relatives in care homes being pushed off armchairs by care assistants, how do you think anybody would get caught?

But I’ve thought it through and I’ve realised to get anything on her I would have to suffer hours and hours of Filipino banter in Tagalog with absolutely no idea what is being said. The only word I know is bura – meaning witch, which is how I am affectionately listed in her mobile contacts. I would have to watch footage of my children having meltdowns – which is a futile exercise as I am not there to help them anyway.

Ok, the baby might look punch drunk after watching Wheels on the Bus for an hour while sitting in her pram but it’s really not the end of the world. I’m also saving myself the heartache of knowing that they won't have asked for me once because they have been forced to swap maternal comfort for iPad technology.

Of course, she takes them a lot to the playground too. She cuddles them and loves them. But whatever else she does or doesn’t do, I’ve accepted that I can’t do the CCTV thing. Perhaps my next strategy should be to come home early – like a suspicious wife does fearing an affair? As chance would have it, I do return early one afternoon from a trial session at the gym. I was forced to tell the personal trainer that I needed to reschedule because I was just too hungry.

Perhaps my next strategy is to start coming home early – like a suspicious wife does fearing an affair?

I arrive in the communal hallway outside the front door of my flat – two hours earlier than expected. I get an adrenalin rush as I stand with my ear at the door. I hear the pitta patta of my golden retriever, Muggles’s paws and I only hope he doesn’t smell me outside and bark for me.

The flat is quite small so I can hear what is going on in the top part of the flat. I hear Rosalee shout after the dog who has run off with her flip flops, which presumably he eats in the garden. But it’s so non-eventful that I am bored out of my mind in the corridor – so after 10 minutes, I open the door. But then shock horror… I can’t believe what I see. It is terrifying. There in front of me lying on the sofa in a dimly lit room is what looks like a cross between Freddie Kruger and a zombie straight out of The Walking Dead.

But no, it’s our nanny Rosalee, with what looks like layers of skin peeling off her face. I gasp in horror: is she ok? But the kids are absolutely oblivious to it – the two of them are engrossed in front of her iPad watching some American TV show called Panda Kiki. Is this why Lola has started calling me mom in an American accent?

On closer inspection, she appears to have thinly cut potato slices on her face – like some kind of homemade face mask – as she sits up and makes a grab for the lift and flap book, Spot the Dog, as though it was her next activity. Then Rosalee, as cool as a cucumber, announces she has taught Liberty to count to three. “Wow, that’s great,” I say – unsure of how to proceed. She goes to the bathroom and comes back looking normal again as if nothing has happened.

I decide I just need let it go and appreciate the fact my kids love her and are at least safe. It’s tiring looking after kids and we are all guilty of putting them in front of the TV for too long. “The grass is always greener on the other side, but it still needs mowing,” my mum friend, Mel, tells me wisely.

Then my neighbour drops me round with her old her CCTV camera as they have bought a more sophisticated version. I put it away in the cupboard. Perhaps it will come in handy to talk to the dog when I’m on holiday and a friend stays, as there is a two-way talk app, but I have decided to sweep all the nanny problems under the carpet for now.