Versace Sisters Read Online Free PDF

You've got to be strict on them . . .
hmmph,' Joan's sentence trailed off into oblivion.
    Sera didn't have time to argue. She had just a small
window of opportunity before Harry noticed she was gone
and began to fuss again.
    She raced to the back door, leapt over the grocery items
which still lay strewn across the floor, ran down the stairs,
loaded herself up with bags of shopping, locked the car and
staggered back up to the house, where she tripped on the
door jamb and once again dropped her shopping across the
kitchen, accidentally standing on the bread as she struggled
to steady herself.
    Joan sat forward in her chair, affronted by the noise.
'Must you explode into the house every time you enter?'
she called out. Madeline sat on the floor beside her grandmother,
staring vacantly at the television screen. 'Anyway,
what's for dinner?' Joan added as an aside and flicked over
to see what that lovely Lavinia was wearing tonight.
    Harry began to wail, 'Muuum, MUUUM!'
    Sera scooped up as much of the dropped shopping as
she could manage and made her way awkwardly to Harry,
whose wailing had escalated into a full-throated scream.
He had managed to pull the teat off his drink, drenching
himself and the floor. Sera stepped over the spill and
dumped the shopping on the bench.
    Harry's wet, chocolatey face was twisted in anger.
    The contents of the shopping flicked through her mind
– oh no, ice-cream.
    Madeline called out that she was hungry.
    Joan asked again what was for dinner.
    Harry stood on his chair and launched his pudgy, sticky
body at her and Sera quickly stepped into the milk puddle
to arrest his mid-air fall.
    As Harry smeared chocolate topping and milk across
her white work uniform she remembered she didn't have a
clean one for tomorrow's shift.
    She sighed again, and hugged poor little Harry harder.
Bugger the uniform, she thought, as she carried the little
bundle of chocolate, snot and misery up the stairs to the
bathroom. It nearly killed her that she'd had to give up
maintaining an organised house. It was frustrating to leave
the disaster zone all over her kitchen floor but Harry
needed her and that was more important.
    'How about we have a bath together, my little man?'
she whispered into his ear.
    'Mmmmm,' he snuffled, mollified now that he was
where he'd wanted to be all day; in his mother's arms.
He clung to her neck in case she changed her mind. But,
thanks to years of practise, she was still able to undress both
of them and draw a bath while holding him.
    Sera sat in the bath with her baby and he finally separated
from her long enough to enjoy some quiet splashy
play. Madeline soon wandered up and joined them.
    As Sera was drying them all off afterwards she heard the
back door open. 'What the hell . . . ?' she heard Tony say.
    She suddenly remembered the state of the house
and quietly chastised herself. She felt like such a failure
when her husband came home to chaos. God, that was so
1950s housewife of her, she argued to herself. She was a
good, caring mother who prioritised her children's needs.
She pulled on a full-length bathrobe and hurried down
the stairs.
    'Hello darling,' she said, tilting her face up to kiss him.
He returned her kiss distractedly as he took in the catastrophe
of melting ice-cream, squashed bread and various
groceries spread out across the floor. Joan deigned to peel
herself away from the television now that the apple of her
eye had returned home.
    'Oh you poor love, you look tired and starving – I don't
think there's any dinner yet either,' Joan said pointedly.
    'I'll be right, Ma,' Tony said, dumping his tool belt in
the closet and picking up the shopping while Sera hastily
assembled bowls of fruit and crackers and ran back up the
stairs with the children's rather feeble dinner.
    'Goodnight little guys,' Tony called up to Maddy and
Harry as they peeped through the banister. 'See you in the
morning.'
    As the children munched, Sera read them stories,
scratched their backs, tucked them