Effie, Simon, & Lorelai

Needless to say at this point, Effie's relationship with Lonnie was volatile. I don't know how many times she left him, or how many times she threatened to. Nor am I privy to how many times he told her he'd kill himself if she left, if she didn't return. I'm sure for every time I know about, there are several I don't.

Despite the fact they got engaged on New Year's Eve after Lorelai was born, Lonnie never actually carried through on his oh-so-honourable intentions. One thing after another happened, and it was cancelled, back on again, postponed... And here we are, long past the declared date of their nuptials, and they are as fractured as ever.

As we inched towards that first Spring, Save The Date cards landed on our doormats. Their engagement would be, so they claimed, a little over two years. Effie confided that she hoped little Lorelai would be walking well enough by then to take part in the wedding itself. As a flower girl or similar, you know.

I smiled blandly in reply, bouncing Lorelai in my arms. I had no wish to fall out again, not least because alienating Effie would mean I'd see less of Lorelai. Besides, the longer the engagement, the more time for something to go disastrously wrong in their relationship. The thought warmed me from the inside out. Effie responded to my expression, smiling at me the way she always used to. Was our reconciliation complete, then?

Lorelai gurgled and burbled at me, and I looked down to meet her dark blue gaze. She chuckled and grinned hugely, seemingly only for the joy of having caught my attention, and I beamed right back.

"I am so lucky," Effie gushed in the background. "We both are. You are the best big brother, Simon. And the best uncle."

"Mhm," I said, allowing myself to be distracted by the baby, and waiting for the ask.

"Could you mind her for me for a few hours? Janae called, and I haven't seen her in ages. It's just going to be a little brunch. We'll hardly even go near any shops at all, and definitely no bars."

"Of course," I said, ignoring the wheedling tone. How many bottles have you packed for her? I wondered. How many changes of clothes? Perhaps for other women, this might have yielded a clue as to how long she actually expected me to babysit. Except Effie didn't seem to have a decent grasp on how much of anything Lorelai needed for any length of time.

The first time she asked this of me, a mere handful of weeks after the debacle at New Years, the circumstances were much the same. No advance notice, and a naive expectation that I had nothing better to do. (I didn't as it happened, but that wasn't the point.)

On that occasion, I was only supposed to mind Lorelai for an hour, maybe two. Her changing bag contained a nappy, a dummy, and a spare vest. "She won't need feeding," Effie had assured me, then. "She's just had a bottle, she won't need another for ages." This turned out to be an inaccurate forecast. Of course, there was no change of clothes, no baby wipes. I'd had to call Mother and ask her to go shopping for me. I'd not been able to refrain from complaining when Effie had collected her daughter that evening, well over six hours later.

The next time she pulled a similar stunt, she had perhaps employed some malicious compliance, and left two entire suitcases full of baby things. I'd skimmed several items to keep against future examples of Effie's unreliable nature. This, along with several items I'd bought myself, meant I was reasonably well prepared even if Effie did stay a little longer than her mother had indicated.

Had I told Effie this, you may be assured that she would have taken to not bringing a bag for Lorelai at all. That idea irked me, so I kept the information to myself, and Effie never asked. She wasn't one to say, "Was there enough nappies?" or "Did she drink all her milk?" Nor did my sister ever pass comment if the baby was wearing an unfamiliar outfit.

Charitably, I reminded myself that Effie trusted her family to mind her daughter. She knew that, in our care, Lorelai would always be safe and have all her needs met. For my part, if I wasn't sure about something, it was Mother I called for advice, pretending not to hear the eyeroll in her voice, and her judgement at my ineptitude. This impatience was, naturally, directed at me, never at Effie.

This particular babysitting episode ("brunch with Janae") dragged on all afternoon and well into the night. Mother refused to criticise Effie.

"You have a chest of drawers, don't you?" she said, tutting. "Empty one of those out. It will suit for a cot just for a few hours, but you really should get one, Simon. It's not good to be so ill-prepared when you are minding a baby."

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When Effie finally turned up, stumbling out of a taxi at 2am in spiked heels, I almost pretended to be asleep. Worried the hammering on the door might wake the little one, I went down to answer it. Just as I opened the front door, Effie stood up, swaying and wiping sick from her mouth, smearing red across her cheeks. I tried to hide my shock. For all her love of parties, it had never been about the booze for Effie. I'd never seen her like this before.

"Give me my baby," she slurred.

"She's asleep," I said, It was true too. She was snug as a bug in that old drawer. "And you've been drinking, Effie, don't you think it'd be better to-"

"I said," Effie tried to push past me, forgot there was a doorstep to navigate, and fell heavily into the doorframe. Righting herself, she brushed off the front of her dress as if angry at it, and then squinted at me and tried again. "I said... givememybaby."

"Of course," I said. "Just pop and get the car seat. I'll strap her in for you, and away you go."

Confusion stamped crossly across her features, and then slid off like a puddle of sick, leaving behind a blank, slightly sad expression.

What could I do? I didn't think it was a good idea for her to take Lorelai just then. She could barely stand; what if she fell while holding her? She had no car seat. It just seemed terribly unsafe.

"Go and sleep it off, Effie," I said, keeping my voice gentle. "I don't mind, I swear. It's no bother."

She staggered back into the taxi, and it growled away, matching, I imagine, the scowl she wore in the back seat.

I was still standing in my front doorway, a nasty feeling pooling in my belly.

No good would come of this, I was sure of it.

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Thank you for reading!

The other parts are linked below for you.

My latest dollar challenge is here:

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Part One:

Part Two:

Part Three:

Part Four: