There's A Fly In My Soup!

Chapter Two

'You've got a guilty look on your face.' Sarah frowned, folding her tiny arms over her chest. 'Hasn't she, Monkey. Doesn't Auntie Cerys look dead guilty.'

Monkeys name is actually Monty. But he's three years old, and currently obsessed with picking his nose. So, he didn't hear a word either of us said. Nothing new there.

I grabbed Sarah's hand and herded the kids towards the car. I often feel like a shepherd, and completely sympathize with farmers. I only look after two kids, and sometimes it feels like twenty. Thousand. Every day I hurtle out of work, drive at the speed limit and sometimes a little beyond, to collect my know it all niece and stig of the dump like nephew.

Sarah, master interrogator, wasn't giving up. She was too much like her Dad for her own good. Dog with a bone, that child.

'Aunty Cerys did you do something bad?'

I have no idea how she does it. She's six years old and she's able to extract information at the drop of a hat. And yet she looks so bloody innocent, with her blonde pigtails and bright blue eyes. Do not be fooled. Honestly. Mi5 are missing a trick if they don't employ this little tyke. She could out-spy all their top agents.

'I just had a bad day.' I sighed, knowing Sarah wasn't giving up. 'Because of this really annoying...' I tried to think of a word that wasn't a swear word but still expressed my distaste. My niece is also really good at tattling on you. She remembers what you've said word for word and repeats it to her father. I should know. I've got myself in hot water before.

'Because of an annoying boy.' I finished. I felt rather smug. For not swearing. Parenting is hard.

'Is he your boyfriend?' Monty asked, c*****g his head, his black curls falling into his eyes. Poor sod. He'd inherited my frizzy head. I clipped his car seat closed, pressing a kiss to his forehead, and fastened Sarah in beside him.

'He's definitely not my boyfriend.'

'Aunty Cerys doesn't have boyfriends.' Sarah informed her brother, as I slid in behind the wheel. 'She's too stub board.'

I stifled a laugh and frowned into the interior mirror.

'Oi!'

She smiled at me, and you know that saying, like butter wouldn't melt? That's Sarah. Monty aka monkey whipped off his sock and started chewing his toenails like they were gourmet fodder. There's a reason we call him Monkey.

...............

'I know what you're thinking. That I didn't think, and maybe I didn't.' I stabbed my ravioli and Leon winced as the prongs of my fork scratched against the porcelain plate. 'But that was my kitchen, Lee. He just barged right in with that.... leprechaun.'

My brother sniggered, stifling his laughter behind a slice of garlic bread. The kids were in bed, reluctantly, but still.

'He can't just let you go; you know.' Leon waved his fork around. 'Not without a valid reason. He's just.... throwing his weight around, showing everyone who's boss. It's always like that when someone new joins a company, they've got something to prove. He'll settle down and wind his neck in soon. It'll be okay sis.' He was always calm, so laid back he was almost horizontal. After the life he'd had, most people would probably forgive him if he was a miserable, moody bugger. I certainly would. I don't know that I'd have the same attitude to life if I'd been dealt the hand that he had. We hadn't always lived together, and I can remember a time when his teenage angst drove me round the bend and back again. But life had other plans, and just under three years ago, he and the kids came to live with me.

While Leon reassured me that Trent 'the t**t' Callaghan didn't have a leg to stand on, I took in the image of my brother, sitting opposite me.

He'd always been the good looking one, and as a kid I went through a phase of envying his good looks. My hair is like a mop that got struck by lightning, Leon's hair has always played ball, and is as straight as a dye. He's tall and slender, with killer cheekbones. I'm only tall and slender if I wear six-inch heels and hit the gym for a year. Which obviously never happens. And I don't believe I have cheekbones. I would thank the lord for contouring, but I haven't mastered it yet. It's one of those skills on my most wanted list. Along with applying eyeliner with finesse, instead of looking like I'd let Monty do it. In the dark.

I never notice my brother’s scars, but tonight I did. Puckered skin feathered his hairline, a deeper welt like scar by his right ear. Leon used to have sparkling blue eyes, but now they are hidden beneath this milky layer that doctors just can't seem to put right. Most days I find Monty's midnight waking tedious, and the times when he refuses to eat dinner and knocks it all over the floor, instead. Or when he chews his toenails in the back seat of my car....

And most days, I forget how lucky I am that I can see the miniature version of my brother. Because Leon hasn't ever seen his son.

He was married, once upon a time, but when he went away to fight in Afghanistan, his wife got a little lonely. Over a period of a year she cheated on Leon, whilst he was out there thousands of miles from her, and Sarah. Three days after Monty was born, my brother and the kids landed on my doorstep. Just two months after he'd arrived home, completely blind and struggling to walk, his left leg studded with shrapnel. That's what he calls it, anyway. He was involved in an explosion, some kind of chemical weapon, and a crudely formed nail bomb.

It’s not that I try not to think about what he's been through, it's just that I don't ever want to make it about me. Am I angry and upset because of the way my life has turned out? Having three people dependent on me, taking on two kids while their mother turns her back and can't even be arsed with sending birthday cards.

A little.

But Leon's the one learning to live a completely different life to the one he left behind on an airstrip as he headed off to foreign sands. Leon's the one who suffers with post-traumatic stress. He's the one who lost four of his best friends. And he's the one who every day, feels like less of a man because he can't provide for his family. I'd acted like a spoilt brat, letting my pride get in the way. The truth is, that I've never been the kind to open up about our situation. That's just not me. But let's face it, Trent had still been in the wrong, expecting me to stick around when I had somewhere to be. And if I don't pick up the kids, there's nobody else to depend on. I can get a little bit feisty sometimes. It's who I am.

'I'm going to speak to Trent the Tosser tomorrow.' I decided, screwing up my face in defiance. 'Walking into my domain like he's some kind of dictator. Someone has to make a stand.' I was on my soapbox. Woe betide anyone who tries to get me down....

'Shit...That poor sod.' Leon teased, and with incredible skill, bearing in mind that he's blind, he stole my last piece of garlic bread.

...............