‘So why won’t they trust me to babysit?’

He puts the box of cakes down on a cabinet and turns to me. There’s a curious expression on his face. ‘Do you want to?’

I look down at the kids and hesitate.

Shane begins to smile. That ‘stupid, see, I knew you couldn’t do it’ smile.

It gets my back up. ‘Yeah, I do,’ I say nonchalantly.

‘OK, I’ll let you get on with it then.’

‘Wait a minute. Where are you going?’

He looks at his watch. ‘If I leave now, I could take Tanya out to dinner.’

I frown. ‘You’re going to leave them both here with me? Alone?’

‘That’s the plan. Unless you think … you can’t cope.’

I look at the children. They’re sitting on the floor like two little angels. They stare back at me with big, curious eyes. Of course I can do it. What can possibly go wrong? If Shane can …

‘No, go ahead,’ I tell Shane. ‘Have fun. I can manage.’

But Shane has me figured pretty good. He’s already pulling his T-shirt over his head and striding toward his bedroom. He comes back into the room in a clean T-shirt. My brother is so good-looking he doesn’t even need to run a fucking brush through his hair.

‘Right then,’ he says cheerfully. ‘All their stuff is in the spare bedroom. In an hour’s time, warm the milk already prepared in the bottles and just give it to them.’

I nod slowly.

‘You sure about this?’

‘Have fun, Shane.’

‘Laters,’ he says to the kids, and, winking at me, goes out of the door.

I look at the kids. ‘It’s just us now,’ I say, and walk to the window, where I watch Shane get into his car and roar off.

Inside the apartment Tommy gives a great big howl.

I rush to his side. ‘What?’

‘I pinched him,’ Liliana confesses calmly.

‘What did you do that for?’

‘He poked me in the heart,’ she says tearfully, pointing to the middle of her chest. ‘And it hurt.’

‘He’s just a baby, Liliana. He didn’t really mean it,’ I explain reasonably.

‘Yes, he did,’ she insists as I pick Tommy up while he carries on with his meltdown. I realize immediately that there’s a very bad smell coming from him. Holding him at arm’s length, I then put him back on the floor.

Liliana is looking up at me with enormous accusing eyes, and I experience a rush of panic. I shouldn’t have let Shane leave. I brush my face with my hand while Tommy continues to bawl inconsolably.

‘Fuck it,’ I mutter, and pick him up again. I hold him the way I see everybody else holding babies. The way Shane does. With his little stiff body close to mine—but he only screams even harder. I put him back on the floor.

‘Do you want some ice cream?’ I offer desperately.

Tommy stops crying instantly, and, standing up, gazes at me with tear-stained, hopeful eyes. His mouth is still quivering, just in case I don’t come through with my offer. ‘I cream,’ he shouts happily.

‘Yes, ice cream,’ I repeat brightly.

‘He’s not allowed to have any,’ Liliana forbids in an eerily grown-up voice.

At that, Tommy throws himself to the ground and howls his head off in frustration. ‘I waaaaant i cream. I WAAAAANT I CREAM,’ he hollers.

‘Why is he not allowed ice cream?’ I demand.

The little madam has her chubby arms crossed over her chest and is glaring up at me. ‘Because we are both not allowed.’

‘Why not?’

‘There’s sugar in it and sugar is bad for children.’

‘Well, he’s damn well having some,’ I mutter.

‘I’m telling,’ she warns.

‘Yeah, you do that,’ I say, and, picking Tommy up by the armpits, begin to stride toward the kitchen with her following behind. If she’s not careful she’s getting Layla’s disgusting gin and tonic ice cream.

There’s a highchair pushed up against a wall. I drag it to the table and secure Tommy into it. The smell from his diaper is making me gag. I move away from him and open the freezer door. One scoop isn’t going to kill them. Triumphantly, I pull out a tub of cookies and cream flavor and show it to Tommy.

‘Mmmm,’ I say in an exaggerated way and put it down on the counter.

Tommy cackles with delight.

I turn and look at Liliana. ‘This is your last chance.’

She blinks, and I know I’ve got her.

‘I won’t tell if you won’t,’ I cajole softly. I know it’s wrong to bribe her like this, but what the hell. This is an emergency.

She grins suddenly, and I see Jake in her little face. That same gorgeous smile. Something inside me knots up. I feel a wave of deep love for her.

‘I cream,’ Tommy demands, banging the tray.

‘Right,’ I say, and fill Tommy’s bowl with three scoops of ice cream, because one just seems so mean.

I pull a chair out and raise my eyebrows at Liliana. Very primly, she walks over to the chair and slides in.

I put a bowl down in front of her. ‘Do you know how to change a diaper, Liliana?’

She shakes her head solemnly. ‘No, but Mummy knows how. We can call Mummy.’

I pick up the ice cream tub and start scooping it out. ‘No. No, let’s not.’

‘Daddy knows how, too. We can call him,’ is her next brilliant suggestion.

I put the tub of ice cream down. ‘I know what,’ I say in an unnaturally high voice. ‘Shall we learn it together on the Internet after you finish eating your ice cream?’

She starts bouncing up and down. ‘OK.’

I get my phone out and dial up YouTube—how to get a diaper on a baby in less than one minute. I put my phone on the table and we watch the video together while Tommy spreads ice cream all over his face, clothes, and chair.

When it’s over, I look across at Liliana. ‘You ready?’

I pull a couple of kitchen towels, and as I’m walking toward Tommy, he manages to spin his bowl and it flies in the air and crashes dramatically to the ground, breaking and spilling ice cream everywhere. Christ! Liliana covers her mouth with both her hands. Over her hands, her eyes are round and full of an ‘oh, oh, look what you’ve let happen now’ expression.

‘Want i cream,’ Tommy bawls.

Jesus. This is turning out to be much harder than it looked.

Liliana uncovers her mouth. ‘Uncle Shane always uses Tommy’s plastic bowl.’

‘Great. Thanks for the early tip,’ I mutter.

I stop for a moment. I need to think. And I can’t think with all this noise. These kids are doing my head in. First: stop that kid from howling. He wants ice cream. She says plastic bowl. Right.

Ice cream.

Plastic bowl.

I open the cupboard and find a green plastic bowl. I show the kid the bowl and he stops howling. I toss a couple of scoops into it and plonk it in front of him. He sticks his spoon into it and shovels it into his mouth.

‘He’ll be sick,’ a small, knowing voice says.

‘No he won’t,’ I snarl.

‘You shouted at me, Uncle Dom.’ Her lower lip starts trembling.

Oh no. Oh no. ‘No I didn’t,’ I deny, while plastering a big, fake smile on my face.

‘Yes, you did,’ she wails and scrunches up her face.

For fuck’s sake! I start walking toward her. ‘That was just a joke, sweetie. I wasn’t shouting. Look, do you want more ice cream?’

She sniffs and nods.

I grab the tub and put four generous scoops into her bowl. I look at her, and she stares at me with her spoon lifted meaningfully above her bowl.

‘More?’ I ask incredulously. This is the drama queen who claimed sugar is bad for children.

She nods vigorously.

I don’t believe this. I throw another couple of scoops in.

‘Thank you, Uncle Dom,’ she says solemnly, and drops her spoon into the ice cream. While they’re eating, I pick up the broken pieces from the floor. The ice cream is melting fast, but I manage to mop up the largest blobs with paper towels. However, I can see that I’m going to have to settle them in the other room and come back to clean this mess.

SEVENTEEN