I don't consider them our children anymore, just mine. Julia doesn't want them, she said so herself. She's horrid, mean, and heartless, and doesn't deserve them anyway.
It’s getting dark, and Eden wants Gemma to read her to sleep. I listen to Gemma's voice float down the stairs. It should be Julia's voice… their mother should be tucking her children into bed, not a nanny.
I storm out of the house in a fit of sudden rage and go into the garden shed. I grab a shovel and storm back into the garden, finding a spot where I dig a hole.
“You know you aren’t allowed to burn clothes.” Gemma stands a good few feet away from me, watching.
“How do you know that?” I ask.
“I chucked my brother’s favourite clothes on the bonfire once when nobody was looking. God, I got into so much trouble. The smoke was so thick.” Gemma smiles at the fond memory, but it just gets me more curious.
“Why did you throw them on the bonfire?” I ask, leaning on the shovel.
“He was being a dick, as usual. He told his friends I had started my period, which might have been in retaliation for me telling them he fancied his Maths teacher.” She waves a hand as if it doesn’t matter. “Why don’t you give the clothes to charity?” Gemma suggests.
Looking up at her, I notice her nipples poking through her thin t-shirt. She is in a pair of pyjama shorts and a matching top. Does she know I can see her breasts?
“Are you cold?” I ask.
“A little.” Gemma shrugs. “I came out to stop you.”
I throw the shovel on the floor next to the lawn. It makes a loud noise as it clanks against the concrete path, sending the birds flying from the nearby trees.
“I don’t know what to do. For the first time in my life, I don’t know how to handle this situation,” I admit to her.
“What did she do?” Gemma crosses her arms, trying to keep warm.
I remove my thin jacket and hand it to her. She takes it graciously, putting it on.
“Drink?” I offer.
GEMMA
“Gin and diet lemonade. If you have it," I add.
“I’ll see what I’ve got,” Alex replies.
He leaves me, and I sit down on the garden chair. Alex soon joins me with a dark-looking drink and a blanket.
“Diet Coke and vodka, no gin, sorry.” Alex gives me a boyish grin by way of apology.
I take a sip through the straw. It isn't bad, but a bit weak for my liking.
“What’s wrong with it?” Alex asks when he sees my face.
“Nothing. It’s nice, just more mixer than I’m used to.”
He takes it from me without a word, going back to the kitchen before I can protest. He must think I'm an alcoholic.
I wrap the blanket around me and look up at the night sky. It's quiet in this neighbourhood. Alex soon comes back with the drink and hands it to me. I watch as he sits down and sighs.
“She wants nothing to do with the children,” he admits to me. “She said she doesn’t love them.”
No wonder he was in such a bad mood last night. I can’t imagine my parents ever saying that to me or even Brody. We have our differences, but I know they mean well and that they love me.
“Did she say why?” I ask.
“Just that she never wanted them,” Alex says in anger, as though he has been blind this entire time. Maybe he has.
