Free Love and Devotion by Erica James Page A

pushed the door open, she found Joel lying on his side on the floor. He was crying, curled up into a ball, his precious silky pushed against his eyes. In her hurry to put the teapot and jug on the table, she splashed water down the front of her shorts and T-shirt, but hardly noticing it, she dropped to her knees. She pulled her brother onto her lap. ‘What’s the matter, Joel? Have you hurt yourself?’
    He lifted his head from her shoulder. ‘You ... you shouted at me. You called me silly. And I’m not. Mummy said I was clever. She ... she always said I was clever.’
    ‘Oh, Joel, I’m sorry. Of course you’re not silly. Please don’t cry any more.’
    But the more she tried to calm him - rocking him gently, patting his back - the more he cried, his tears making a cool, damp patch on her shoulder. He was shuddering and gulping in her arms and there was nothing she could do to stop him. She tried to think what their mother would have done if she were here. How would Mum have stopped him crying?
    Then it came to her: Mum would have given him a drink. Reaching across to the table she poured Joel a cup of water from the teapot. ‘Look, Joel,’ she said, ‘I’ve got you a drink. Sit up straight and you can have it.’
    Within seconds he was calm and drinking thirstily. Still holding him close and wiping his eyes with his silky, she said, ‘Don’t worry, Joel, I’ll take care of you. I’ll always look after you.’
    Cuddling Joel tightly, she knew what she’d just said was true. She would always look after her brother. She had to. There wasn’t anyone else they could rely on. Mummy and Daddy had left them, Grandma was ill and would probably leave them too, and Granddad had a bad knee, didn’t he? So that only left Harriet. And Harriet didn’t really like them, did she?

Chapter Nine
     
     
     
     
    It was probably a first, but for once the commotion going on downstairs had nothing to do with Gemma - it wasn’t about her clothes, her hair, the hours she kept or her attitude — and, pushing her unpacking onto the floor, she lay on the bed with her hands behind her head. The way Steve was carrying on, anyone would think Suzie had done it deliberately. What a twat! Kicking up such a fuss just because his stupid car had been damaged. At least Suzie had come clean about it. Mind you, even Gemma would have done that, but only because she would have been gagging to see the expression on Steve’s face. She’d also have made a better job of it - would have really trashed the car, maybe taken off a door or two. And she certainly wouldn’t have bothered to get it fixed like her sister had. Unluckily for Suzie, the garage had cocked up big-time by bodging the respray.
    Gemma smirked at the memory of Steve’s face when he’d realised something was wrong. They’d only been in the house ten minutes when he’d looked out of the sitting-room window and nearly had a fit. Mum had told him he was imagining it, but when they’d all gone outside, it became pretty obvious that there was a patch of paintwork that looked different from the rest. Suzie’s eyes had been a giveaway too. Mum had immediately taken Steve’s side, as she always did these days. ‘What the hell did you think you were doing, driving Steve’s car, anyway?’ she’d shouted at Suzie.
    ‘I’d run out of petrol in mine.’
    ‘And you thought that gave you the right to help yourself to mine?’ Steve had blustered, his nostrils flaring.
    ‘I was only nipping to the shops for some milk.’
    ‘Oh, so that makes it all right. Well, I’ll tell you this for nothing; I’m going to get it fixed properly and you’re going to pay for it. Do you hear me? What’s more, we’ll stop your allowance.’
    ‘Steve, calm down. Let me handle this.’
    More nostril flaring. ‘You mean you’ll just let her off. I’ve told you before, Maxine, you’re not firm enough with them.’
    That was when Gemma had decided she’d had enough. She wasn’t going to stick