Little Darlings Read online

  Sweetie opens Mum’s present next: it’s a beautiful life-size doll with real fair hair, eerily like Sweetie’s, and she’s wearing a matching party dress.

  ‘There, darling! She’s been specially made to be your little twin! Isn’t she lovely? You can comb her hair and change her clothes. See how many outfits she’s got! I ordered her from a lady over in America – she usually makes these dollies for grown-up ladies, but I knew just how much you’d care for her and treasure her. You will, won’t you, Sweetie?’

  ‘Oh, yes, Mummy, she’s the most wonderful doll in the world!’ says Sweetie.

  She poses beautifully with her, kissing the doll’s forehead, stroking her hair, holding out both their dresses, while the photographer flashes and clicks. She even lets all the other little girls have a turn holding her, walking her up and down.

  Then it’s Mum’s turn to be photographed. There they are, three golden-haired smiling beauties, like a puzzle in a child’s comic: Which one is the doll?

  I’m smiling too, but I can’t help remembering my sixth birthday. Why didn’t I get a wondrous life-size replica doll? Well, it’s obvious why. Imagine a great gawky doll with frizzy hair and gappy teeth. Who would want a doll like that?

  Now Sweetie’s about to open the last and biggest parcel, Dad’s present. It’s far too heavy for her to lift. Dad has to help her undo all the wrapping. A pink edge pokes out, and then little glass jars on a shelf. It’s a shop, Sweetie’s own sweetshop. It says so in fancy lettering on the shop sign. It’s big enough for Sweetie to clamber behind the counter and sit on a little pink stool. There are tiny old-fashioned scales on the counter so she can weigh all the sweets, and a cash register where she can keep her money. This is pretend, but all the sweets in the jars are real: fruit drops all colours of the rainbow, peppermints, chocolate toffees, wine gums, dolly mixtures . . .

  ‘Oh, Daddy, it’s such a glorious present!’ says Sweetie, clapping her hands. ‘You must come to my shop and be my first customer!’

  Dad looks thrilled, but he glances at Rose-May, wondering if it’s right for his image to be photographed squatting down buying sweets from his little girl. Rose-May nods approvingly, so Dad plays his part while the photographers flash all over again. Then Sweetie has to serve all the other little girls, acting so charmingly, like a real little birthday princess.

  I can hear Mum and Dad whispering.

  ‘You might have told me!’

  ‘I did, I did, I said I was getting her a shop.’

  ‘Yes, but you didn’t say a sweetshop, not with real sweets. She’ll make herself sick if we’re not careful – and rot her perfect little teeth.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Suzy, it was your idea to have an entire sweet-themed party – look around you, there are sweets galore.’

  ‘Yes, but they’re just decorations. The kids aren’t scoffing the lot.’

  ‘Lighten up, can’t you? Let Sweetie enjoy her present. Why make such a fuss just because she likes it more than that big dolly?’

  ‘She loves that doll. She’ll be like a real heirloom for Sweetie.’

  The photographer is calling for a family picture in front of the sweetshop.

  ‘Come on, Danny and Suzy,’ Rose-May says, shaking her head at them as if they’re naughty toddlers. She’s smiling brightly, with strange emphasis, to set them an example: let’s have Happy Faces for the birthday photo.

  Dad smiles, Mum smiles, and they hasten obediently over to Sweetie and her shop. Ace is there too, delving into the jars, sucking and licking each sample.

  The photographer beckons to me to be part of the Happy Family, but I’m saved by the bell. The last little guest has arrived at long last. I run down the hall to open the door and usher her in.

  Then I stand frozen, open-mouthed, forgetting to hide my teeth. It’s a very little girl with bunches, younger than Sweetie, only three or four years old – a plain little girl blinking at me anxiously, clutching a grubby cuddle blanket over her nose so that it hides her face like a hijab. The young woman with her tugs at the blanket impatiently.

  ‘Come on, Pandora, time to put blankie away now, we’re at the party.’

  ‘No, no, Auntie Liz, I need blankie,’ Pandora protests.

  I know this auntie. She’s blonde and ultra-skinny in her tight jeans and tiny top. She’s got a little girl’s bobbed hair and darkly shaded eyes with thick lashes and a very big mouth shining bright red. It’s Big Mouth, the girl in the Milky Star film, turned up like the Bad Fairy at Sleeping Beauty’s party.

  She smiles at me with those terrifying lips and moves forward.

  ‘Hello. I think you’re Sunset, Danny’s elder daughter? Your dad invited us to the party. This is my little niece, Pandora. Sorry we’re so late – we lost her wretched blanket . . .’

  She steps indoors in her strappy high heels, dragging Pandora after her. I’m not quick enough to stop them. I stand stupidly dithering when I should push them back outside and slam the door in their faces, because I know what will happen, I know, I know. I follow them helplessly down the hall, watch as they go to join the party, Liz Big Mouth pulling Pandora along, and then they’re in the room and I hover at the door, holding my breath.

  I see Dad look up and give a little nod, I see Claudia hold out her hand reassuringly to Pandora, I see the photographer flashing away, I see Mum smiling, kneeling beside Sweetie, and I think for a moment it will be all right. Pandora will be absorbed into the crowd of little girls, and Big Mouth will blend in with the gaggle of mums and nannies drinking champagne at the other end of the room. But then Mum’s head jerks. She’s staring at them. She stands up, her face flushing a startling red.

  ‘Suzy,’ Rose-May says quickly, looking at the photographer and the journalist from Hi!

  I don’t think Mum even hears her. ‘Who invited you?’ she hisses.

  Big Mouth stands still, looking over at Dad.

  ‘Get out!’ Mum screams, and everyone jumps. Some of the little girls start crying. ‘Get out – and take that mousy little brat with you!’

  Pandora cries too, sobbing into her blanket, and I follow as they’re both hustled down the hall.

  ‘Don’t cry, Pandora, it’s not your fault!’ I gabble.

  I see the little pile of our new bears discarded on the stairs and grab my panda. ‘Here, have this for a going-home present,’ I say.

  I thrust it into her arms as she’s tugged off down the drive.

  11

  DESTINY

  ‘Where’s my little singing star?’ Mum calls as she opens the front door.

  I don’t answer.

  ‘Destiny?’ She comes into the living room, and then stops. ‘Destiny, what is it?’

  ‘Nothing, I’m fine,’ I mumble.

  ‘Well, come on, you silly girl, don’t just sit there all hunched up. Give me a hug! Aren’t you pleased I’m home so early? Louella was an angel, said she’d see to my last two ladies.’

  I stand awkwardly and let her put her arms round me. I don’t want her to hold me. I’m scared she’ll start me crying. I can see she’s dying to ask about this afternoon’s contest – but doesn’t quite like to now she can see there’s obviously something wrong.

  ‘Tell me, sweetheart,’ Mum says quietly. She suddenly jerks. ‘Oh God, your leather jacket’s OK? No one’s nicked it?’

  ‘It’s there, on the back of the chair.’

  ‘So what’s up?’

  ‘Nothing’s up.’

  ‘Are you feeling a bit nervous about tonight’s concert? Don’t worry, darling. The moment you step onstage and start singing you’ll feel wonderful.’

  ‘No I won’t.’

  ‘Well, I’ll feel wonderful, watching you.’

  ‘You won’t. Because I’m not singing tonight.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Oh, Mum, don’t look like that. I’m not singing. It’s no big deal, so let’s shut up about the stupid concert and have tea.’ I go into the kitchen and put the kettle on.

  ‘Who say