‘I can hear you snorting like a pig,’ he growled, making her little face crumple into tears.
‘That’s enough, now, I’m going to sit between the two of you,’ Cassie exclaimed.
She felt herself quite comfortable with the children; it was hard to imagine the anxious rookie she’d been only a few months previously. She recognised Cici’s books from school – her little bit of homework involved a few sums, a passage of ‘fill in the missing word’ and finally drawing a picture. Rather a lot for a six-year-old, Cassie reflected. Nonetheless, Cici was revelling in her tasks and laid everything out in straight lines, which she proudly called ‘organdising’. It was striking to see, even in a young child, how the basic qualities that would characterise a life were clearly visible. Don’t rush it, thought Cassie, none of it’s as much fun for real.
The door buzzer went off like a fire alarm. How could someone’s attitude communicate itself through an electronic device? The door swung open and a tall, dark- haired girl glowered at her. She would’ve been pretty if her expression hadn’t been quite so hostile. Could this be a teenage version of Marisha?
‘Hi, I’m Cassie.’
‘The babysitter, yeah, I know .?.?. like, I’m fourteen, I don’t know what you’re even doing here, I don’t need a babysitter.’
Yikes. When in doubt, be nice, she reminded herself.
‘I know, but your brother and sister do, and I’m sure you don’t want the job of looking after them.’
Her lip curled with disdain. ‘No fuckin’ way,’ she muttered, flinging her bag on the ground and flouncing into the kitchen.
Cassie was taken aback at the upfront cursing at an adult, but reminded herself,She’s testing you.
‘Sammie, do you want to see my drawing?’ wheedled Cici, to whom her big sister was clearly a goddess.
Samantha barely grunted and flopped down on the sofa, eyes fixed on her phone.
‘When’s dinner?’
Did all teenagers speak to their parents like servants?
‘Ten minutes. You must be starving.’
No reply of any kind.
She finished preparing the children’s dinners: mashed potato with butter, chicken and the de rigueur mashed turnip – everything separate, of course, for Con’s benefit. Finn had warned her against anything too colourful, especially red, and absolutely nothing spicy.
When, finally, they all sat down to eat, Samantha kept her phone propped up against the fruit bowl, scrolling and texting throughout.
‘Sammie, Mummy says you’re not allowed,’ whined Cici.
‘Shut up!’ roared Con, his hands covering as much of his head as he could manage.
‘Well, go and phone Mum, then, squirt,’ said Samantha, causing Cici to telegraph an anguished plea for help. Cassie shrugged. It wasn’t her job to police a teenager and it was likely that any attempt was liable to cause an eruption.
By the time dinner was cleared away, Cici was watching her half hour of screen time that Cassie suspected only her dad, rather than her mum, allowed. Predictably, Samantha flounced away from the table, slamming the door of Finn’s old room behind her and leaving the air behind her fizzing with animosity. Still, at least it left the rest of them in peace.
Cici sat curled on the sofa with St Teresa of Avila on her lap, still watching a cartoon of Cinderella, when the door swung open and Samantha strode into the room, an unnerving expression on her face.
‘Cassie, there’s something I’m curious about .?.?. If you’re the babysitter, how come you’re soold?’
Cici looked alarmed and Cassie felt blindsided. She’d been prepared for moodiness, but this full-on confrontation was on another level.
‘Well .?.?. you can be a babysitter at any age.’ Cassie was deflecting but the teenager was moving in for a direct attack.
‘Are you my dad’s girlfriend? And if you are, do you know what that makes her, Cici?’
The marmalade kitten with the big, trusting eyes shook her head.
‘It makes her the wicked stepmother.’
The eyes swivelled back round to Cassie in shock.
