Gwen has been here for five days, and I'm on the verge of losing the plot. She can talk for England, and her ability to sniff out when I might have a single moment alone with Paige and ruin it, is unparalleled. It's bloody annoying, and I'm afraid I might have been a bit short with her a few times. Not that I actually give a toss what Gwen thinks, but I don't want to put Paige in a tight spot. Clear as glass why Gwen and Paige don't always get on. Gwen is as flighty and inconsistent as Paige is consistent and thoughtful. Night and day. Chalk and cheese.

Gwen has amused herself for a few days by taking the train various places, and the one day she was still gone when Paige returned, Chloe was in a right strop over having her nappy changed and new clothes put on, and as I was coming down the stairs, the door opened and Gwen was back. Whoever is in charge of my life is having a laugh. All I need is five minutes.

Nothing has been awkward between me and Paige, and if anything, that worries me more. We snogged. A lot. There was a lot of snogging, and at the moment, we both seem to be acting as though that didn't happen. Right back to how things were before my birthday, before the football match, before she turned in my arms and let me kiss her. What I can't be sure of is which version of us she wants once Gwen leaves.

That's not my main concern right now as Gwen and I head to Woburn Safari Park with the kids napping in the back. Since we drove out of the laneway, Gwen has kept up a steady stream of stories about Paige from when they were younger, and while I might have expected them to be unflattering, it's clear Gwen loves Paige.

What's unclear, at least to me, is why she's such a wanker to Paige when they're together. Seeing Paige with Gwen has made me wonder whether Paige is far too tolerant of Jack at work too. Never thought she'd be the type to let someone railroad her, but she gives into Gwen about almost everything in some misguided bid to keep the peace. Whatever Gwen wants, Gwen gets, and I can't tell if it's just because her sister is here on holiday.

"What is it you love most about Paige?" I interrupt her non-stop chatter.

"Oh," Gwen says, likely surprised I spoke at all. No need to say much around her—can't get a word in. "She's organized and driven. If Paige wants something, she'll do whatever it takes to make it happen. But not in a cut-throat way. She'd never ruin someone else to get ahead, and she's in a job with a lot of men who are probably the opposite." She seems to think for a minute. "She's never been afraid to start over."

"Hmm." There's so much I'd like to say, but I don't want to drop Paige in the shitter when I'm trying to help or at least make Gwen see how unfair she is.

"What's that mean?" Gwen asks, turning in her seat. "And why don't you ever talk to me? You talk to Paige like a normal person. You've said approximately one complete sentence to me since I arrived. Maybe two."

"Truth? I reckon you won't like it." I slide her a sideways glance.

"Umm." Gwen scrunched up her face.

Not the green light I'm looking for, but fuck it. I'm going in. "I don't like the way you are with Paige."

"What? She's my sister. You've known her for like five minutes. You're hardly an expert on my sister or my relationship with her."

"You're right. It's got nothing to do with me, but as an outsider, I don't like how you treat Paige. She doesn't deserve the way you speak to her."

"I'm not mean to her," Gwen says.

"I reckon if you actually listened to half the bollocks you talk when you're with her, you'd see it too. You're not thick."

She glances down at her body in horror. "Thick?"

"Stupid? An idiot?" Been a while since I've had to translate for Paige. She caught onto most of my British slang pretty quickly. Likely helps that she hears it everywhere.

"Oh, thank god. I thought you were calling me fat."

Confirmed. Paige got all the brains. Long suspected that from hearing their video chats.

"I'm not mean to her."

"You have a go at her about everything. How tidy she is, how much of her life she plans, the things she watches, the food we eat, how she minds Joey—and to me, that's the worst—you're not a parent so you haven't got a clue what you're on about."

"I've done a lot of reading about parenting," Gwen says.

"Random shite people have shared on social media is not research, and it certainly doesn't qualify you as an expert."

"You sound just like my sister."

"You say that like it's a bad thing, and we both know it's not." Also, Paige may have said the same thing to me about information sources when we were talking about childhood vaccines.

"I'm not mean to her," Gwen says again, and she crosses her arms before looking out the window.

She doesn't say another word for the rest of the drive, and for that, at least, I'm grateful.

~ * ~

At the park, I've got the double pushchair, and we tour around to the animals. Gwen is sullen, and it amazes me how two people can be raised in the same household and turn out so differently. Paige would have formulated her thoughts by now and come back at me with a counterargument or counterclaim that would have either explained her attitude or defended it. Many times I've thought Paige would have made a good barrister.

At the Tiny Tots Safari Trail, I put Gwen in charge of Joey, and I take Chloe to one of the inflatables for a bounce. I've just decided that Chloe's a bit too young to be sat in the bouncy castle being jostled by the other kids, despite her laughter, when Joey blows past us with Gwen trailing behind calling his name and reminding him about his shoes.

"Oi," I call to Joey. "You're being called, mate. Not having that strop. No trainers in the bouncy castle."

He stops, and he stares at me, clearly trying to determine whether going against me is how he wants his day to go. It's not. I'll leave the park in a heartbeat. Not the first time I'll have left someplace because of poor behaviour on his part or Chloe's. His shoulders slump, and he stomps over with a sour expression as though I've pissed in his muesli.

Beside Gwen is another mother, and I can hear her sigh as Joey absorbs my little speech about listening to adults while he removes his trainers.

"Your husband is so good with the kids. I wish my partner was good like that."

"I'm not her husband," I say over my shoulder. "I'm the nanny." I take Joey's shoes, and I scoop up Chloe. Whenever I'm out with Paige, people make assumptions all the time. We used to correct them, but we don't anymore. At first, we shared a bit of nervous laughter or a glance of solidarity, but we don't even do that anymore. People can think what they like. Not having any guesses today with her sister.

"Are you looking for another job?" the mother asks. "A bit of extra income?"

"He works full time for my sister," Gwen says. "And trying to poach him when you think his employer is standing right here is ballsy—not in a good way."

I try to smother my smile. Perhaps she's got a bit of Paige in her after all. When I glance up, she's still directing her glare at the mother. Maybe not that much. Paige would have let it go by now and been over here helping me wrangle Chloe's shoes back on her feet.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of eating, taking in the animal sights, and being mistaken for a family over and over. Each time I correct them, I can sense Gwen getting more annoyed. Don't give a toss. I don't even mind calling myself a nanny repeatedly, which I normally avoid.

Might make me a bad person, but one of two things seems to happen when I correct an assumption—the parent tries to poach me, sometimes with a suggestive glance, and Gwen gets mad, or the person asks Gwen questions she can't answer since she's not my employer, and that makes her uncomfortable.

Should I be celebrating that Gwen is having a shit day? Not likely. Makes me a bit of a vindictive arse. Ah well. I'm sure I've been called worse.

When we get back in the car, the kids are exhausted and fall asleep before we're out of the carpark. Gwen doesn't say a word to me during the thirty-minute drive, and that suits me just fine. We're home later than normal, and Paige has beat us in the door.

I get the kids changed into their pajamas while Paige heats some leftovers from the other night, and then we sit at the table together. Gwen doesn't say a word to me, and I mind the kids while Paige listens to Gwen detail, in much more hilarious depth than it warrants, the number of times other mums tried to entice me to come work for them in front of Gwen. None of those encounters was funny, but Gwen has a knack for spinning a story.

"Would you mind if I met Tejinder for a drink?" I ask as we're tidying after dinner.

Paige freezes at the sink, and she half turns to me. Gwen has just taken both the kids into the living room. Any minute, Gwen will duck back in here because she can't seem to leave me and Paige alone.

"Did something happen between you two today? There's a weird tension."

"Does Chloe need a bottle?" Gwen comes through the kitchen doorway. "She doesn't seem very happy."

"I'll bring it in," I say, and I start gathering everything in deft movements.

"Ash," Paige says once Gwen is gone again.

"Nothing happened." I shake the bottle. "Are you alright with me going out for a bit?"

"Of course, your evenings are supposed to be yours, but..." She releases a deep sigh and turns to stare into the sink. "If she's done something to make you uncomfortable or unhappy, I want to know."

"It's not that. Probably the opposite, if I'm honest. We just didn't get on today, that's all."

"You'd tell me, right?" She stares at me and swallows. "You'd tell me."

"If it was anything you needed to worry about," I say. "I'd tell you." I slide the bottle onto the counter, and then I envelop her in a hug. We haven't touched in ages, it feels like. She wraps her arms around me and sinks into my chest with a deep sigh.

"I feel like I hardly see you," she whispers.

I know what she means. We'd gotten so used to the two of us at night that having Gwen around is strange. Most nights I've gone up to my room to watch telly. Prior to Gwen's arrival, Paige and I had fallen into a routine of binge-watching terrible reality TV or having her force feed me think piece documentaries that she'd then systemically take apart regarding their various biases. Who knew I'd miss that? But I do. A lot.

It's been surprisingly nice to have someone push me to think in ways I've not considered before. Although I've never been much of an academic, I definitely had a few fit teacher fantasies while at school. And now? Happens almost nightly—all of them starring Paige.

"Five more days, and then you and I can sort ourselves out."

"We need to plan Chloe's birthday party, too. Can I hire a photographer for one of those cake smashes? Do they do those here? I did one for Joey, and I loved it."

"Cake smash?" I lean back so I can see her face. "Are you having a laugh?"

"No, it's a real thing. You get a fancy, tiny cake and you watch them destroy it. I think you'd love it. We could place bets on what part of the cake she'd go for first."

"Sounds terribly messy. How is this something you love?" My tone is teasing, and she gives me an extra squeeze before stepping back just as Gwen comes into the kitchen with Chloe in her arms and Joey trailing behind her.

"The bottle?" Her tone is part accusatory.

"Here," I say, and instead of handing it to her, I give it straight to Chloe. "Right. I'm off as long as we're sorted, Paige?"

"Yeah," she says. "I'll see you tomorrow."

I ruffle Chloe's hair while she drinks her bottle before seeking out Joey to say goodnight to him as well. On my way out the door I breathe a sigh of relief, and I text Tejinder.

Five more days.

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