Free Love and Devotion by Erica James

‘Let’s have a tea party,’ she said, knowing that it would please him.
    Joel sprang into life and got off his chair. ‘Can we have real water like we did last time? Not pretend water.’
    She passed him a matching teapot and milk jug. ‘Yes. But only if you promise not to spill it everywhere. We mustn’t make extra work for Grandma and Granddad.’ And quoting her aunt, she added, ‘Grandma isn’t very well, so we have to be extra good.’
    She helped him to place the things carefully on the table, four cups and saucers and four plates — he always insisted that it had to be four of everything. ‘Is Grandma going to die like Mummy and Daddy?’ he asked, putting the lid on the teapot.
    ‘Don’t be stupid. No one is going to die, Joel.’ Carrie didn’t know if this was true. She and Joel weren’t supposed to know that their grandmother had anything wrong with her. But Carrie often listened at the top of the stairs when everyone thought she was asleep in bed and one night she had heard Harriet telling Grandma that she should rest more, that if she didn’t, she’d make herself more ill than she already was.
    ‘But Mummy and Daddy died,’ Joel said, his voice shrill and persistent. ‘Harriet says that everyone dies in the end. Harriet told me that even — ’
    ‘Oh, stop going on about it, will you?’ Carrie snapped. ‘You’re just a silly little boy who doesn’t know anything.’ She wrenched the teapot out of his hands and grabbed the milk jug. ‘Now stay here while I go and fill these.’
    She didn’t know why, but her legs were shaking when she stepped outside into the sunshine. She walked uncertainly across the lawn to the tap that was on the end of the garage. Blinking back tears, she wondered if this was how you felt just before you fainted. A boy had fainted at school once, on sports day, and everyone had crowded round him to get a look as he lay on the grass. She stood in the shade of the garage and felt her heart racing. It felt like someone was playing a drum inside her. Her throat felt tight and it was an effort to swallow. Maybe she had what was making Grandma ill. Maybe she was dying. She suddenly thought of Joel and how lonely and frightened he’d be without her.
    At night, when her brother was sleeping next to her, his breath noisy and tickly in her ear, his silky wrapped around his thumb-sucking hand, she often worried about who would look after them if anything happened to their grandparents. Or Harriet. What if there was another car crash and she and Joel were left on their own? Who would look after them then? Or would they be made to stay in one of those places where children without parents had to live?
    An orphanage.
    Just saying the word in her head scared Carrie. She knew all about orphanages; she’d seen them on the television. Children were made to wear smelly old clothes that had been worn by hundreds of other children. They were all made to sleep together in one big room and had to get up in the middle of the night to mop the floors. Oh, yes, she knew what went on. She’d watched that film with the girl who had all that curly red hair. She and the other girls in the orphanage didn’t look too unhappy, but they all wanted to escape, didn’t they? They wanted to be with kind, rich people who loved them.
    Suddenly Carrie’s throat was so tight she was struggling to breathe. It only loosened when hot tears splashed onto her cheeks. She drew her forearm across her face and wiped them away. Just as Joel had to stop sucking his thumb, she had to learn not to cry. She had to be good, too. Because if Grandma wasn’t well and they annoyed Harriet, their aunt might decide not to look after them any more and they’d end up in an orphanage wearing clothes that didn’t fit and shoes with holes in them.
    Perhaps she ought to explain to Joel what could happen if they didn’t do as Harriet said.
    She filled the plastic teapot and jug and went back to the Wendy house. When she