Page 14 of The Accidental Nanny

Now, I’m uncertain about what I did, although I think I did okay. I lead her down to the laundry room, hesitating at the door. When I open it, my mouth drops.

“Shit.”

Fern gasps behind me. Soap suds cover the floor, and more are coming out of the washing machine.

“Gem, how much detergent did you put in there?” Fern asks in a whisper behind me.

“I don’t know; half a bottle, or so…” I shrug. It’s not my fault. Alex should have left instructions.

Fern wades through the bubbles to the shelf with the soap. She picks up the bottle of liquid.

“One bottle is enough for 40 washes.”

“Oh. I thought it meant temperature.”

“Yes, that’s why there is a basket sign next to it. Oh, my God. Let’s clean this up. How much have you got to do?”

“All the washing, clean the kitchen, and make dinner.” I point to the mixed clothing.

She picks it up, looking through it. “Did you separate the clothes you put in the washing machine?”

“What?” I tilt my head in confusion.

“The clothes, did you separate them? Whites, darks, pinks, lights?”

“Ermm… no. I just chucked them in. Was I supposed to?” Why did my mother never teach me this?

“Let’s clean up this mess first,” Fern says with a sigh.

We find a mop and bucket and clean the floor. Well, Fern cleans, and I panic as I watch her, biting my nails.

“Gemma, you need to help me!”

“Okay, okay… What do I do?”

“Clean! Get a mop. Jesus.” Fern sounds like she might be annoyed.

I look around not being able to spot one, so she hands me hers. She looks in the old washing basket grabbing some towels. She places them down, soaking up the water, then wrings them out in the sink before doing the same thing again.

“Gemma.” She’s snapping her fingers.

“I’m trying.” I lightly push the mop around—this is too much work.

“Not like that. Put some effort into something for once in your life.” There’s a bite to Fern’s tone that takes me by surprise.

“Woah, what’s that meant to mean?”

“You’re so clueless. You’re selfish at times. I’ve not gone out of my way to help you so that you can stand there and do nothing,” she retorts.

“I’m not clueless.”

“Gem, you really are, but we can argue about this later. I’m trying to save your arse here.”

When the washing machine stops, and the floor is clean, I pull out the washing, but the white shirts are now pink, andso are the socks. Some of the items look a lot smaller. We both stare at the wet bundle with resignation.

“I’m guessing this wasn’t like this before you put it in?” Fern asks.

“No shit. Of course it wasn’t.”