Little Darlings Read online

  ‘No, no – oh, I wish! How wonderful to be able to see him play! No, according to this piece I read, Danny plays a major rock star, kind of similar to himself – but anyway, the film premiere’s on Saturday and Danny will be there, it said. And I’ve been saving up for something special for your birthday for ages, so I thought I’d get us tickets, and buy you a new outfit – because it’s time you met him, Destiny. It’s time you met . . . your father.’

  She whispers the last two words reverently. It’s such a very private secret we hardly ever talk about it. Mum’s never told anyone but me, and I wouldn’t ever tell anyone else, even if I had a best friend in all the world, because this is such a sacred secret.

  My dad is Danny Kilman. I suppose there wouldn’t be any point telling people even if it wasn’t a secret, because who would believe me? Mum met Danny when she was eighteen. She’d loved him ever since she was my age. She bought all his albums and had posters of him all over her bedroom walls. She’d had a few boyfriends, but Danny was the only man she ever loved. She was thrilled when Danny and his boys were playing at the Apollo and she managed to get a ticket. She went with her friend Julie and they screamed themselves hoarse, and then they went to the Midland Hotel and hung around in the hope of seeing the band there – and they were invited in for drinks.

  Mum said it was the most amazing night of her life – she simply couldn’t believe it. She was actually talking to Danny Kilman! She was sitting on his lap! She was kissing him!

  She said he wasn’t a bit the way she’d imagined. He was quiet, even a little bit shy, and very gentlemanly, taking such care of her.

  Mum says they only had a brief relationship but it was a truly passionate love affair – my little mum and rock god Danny.

  ‘I should have left home and given up my job and followed him to London there and then,’ Mum’s often said sadly. ‘I should have realized you can’t really have a valid long-distance relationship, not with someone like Danny. I don’t really blame him for starting to go out with Suzy. I don’t want to sound catty, but she practically threw herself at him, everyone knows that – it was in all the gossip columns. I decided I didn’t mind him having a little fling with her. I mean, his first marriage was already over, so he was free to do what he wanted, and Suzy was already quite a famous glamour model herself then and very pretty – though I’ve always thought she looks a little hard. But then, just around the time I realized I was going to have a baby, my Dan’s baby, there’s this devastating headline – DANNY KILMAN MARRIES SUZY SWINGER IN WHIRLWIND VEGAS WEDDING – and I realized it was too late. What could I do? I couldn’t tell him and risk wrecking his brand-new marriage. It would be so unfair.’

  I suppose Mum thought she would bide her time and wait. She never thought his marriage would last. But they’d only been married a few months when Suzy stopped partying with Danny half the night and started wearing loose tops and it became obvious she was going to have a baby. Danny’s baby.

  ‘Your half-sister, Destiny,’ Mum said.

  She’s kept a separate scrapbook of the baby from the very first photos three days after she was born – ‘Because she’s family.’

  I grew up knowing everything about this sister of mine I’d never met, Sunset.

  ‘I bet Suzy chose the name,’ said Mum, sniffing.

  We have way more photos of Sunset than we have of me. I always liked the one of baby Sunset in her little white hooded playsuit with bunny ears. Mum tried to make me one, stitching ears on my tiny hoodie, only she got the shape wrong so the ears were too small and round and I ended up looking like a little white rat. Once Sunset was toddling around, Mum gave up trying to make me matching outfits because Sunset had such amazing designer clothes. When I was old enough, Mum and I would pore over them for ages, repeating the French and Italian designer names reverently.

  The photo I like best in the whole scrapbook is one of Sunset and Danny on a white beach in Barbados. Suzy is there too, in the shade in the background, her tummy swollen over her bikini bottom because she’s six months pregnant with Sweetie, my next little half-sister. Danny is lying stretched out on the sand, looking really brown and fit, wearing funny long bathing trunks down to his knees, and Sunset is sitting beside him, busy burying his feet in the sand. She’s got her hair in a topknot and she’s wearing huge sunglasses – maybe she’s borrowed them from Suzy – and a red-and-white striped swimming costume. She’s grinning mischievously at her dad, so happy. I’d stare at that picture until I could feel the sun on my skin, hear the lap of the waves, feel the powdery grit of the sand as I smiled at my dad.

  2

  SUNSET

  ‘Smile, please!’

  ‘Everyone smile! This way!’

  ‘Look at me! You on the end, darling, give us a smile.’

  ‘Little munchkin in the red boots – smile!’

  That’s me. I’m the only one not smiling. Dad is giving the press his famous lopsided grin, flicking his long tousled hair, striking a cool pose in his black gothic clothes and his silver-sequin baseball boots. He’s not Dad any more, he’s Big Danny, every inch of him, right down to the huge skull ring studded with diamonds distorting his little finger.

  Mum’s smiling too, showing off her new pink hairdo, exactly the same colour as her flowery ruffled dress, cinched in with a wide black studded belt, her long legs in black fishnets and then crazily high red-soled Louboutins. She doesn’t model any more, but she still knows how to show herself off.

  My sister Sweetie’s like a mini model already. Her fair hair has been specially straightened for today. It swishes past her shoulders in a shiny waterfall. Mum’s let her have a dab of purple shadow on her eyelids to match her purple ballet frock. She’s wearing a little black velvet jacket over the top, studded with all her badges and brooches, black and purple striped tights and little black pointy boots. She coordinated her outfit herself, even though she’s only five. Sweetie has known how to be a celebrity child ever since she could toddle.

  Ace is still at the toddling stage and doesn’t give a fig about celebrity. He was supposed to wear a miniature version of Dad’s outfit, but he screamed and kicked and said he didn’t want to wear those silly clothes. He would only wear his Tigerman outfit or he would bite. So he’s in his Tigerman costume – black and gold stripes with a long tail, and Mum has painted tiger stripes and whiskers on his face.

  Everyone goes ‘Ahhh’, and coos at him. Ace roars and they pretend to be scared. It’s the simplest of routines, but Ace is happy to play Tigerman all day long and well into the night.

  He’s not so sure about all the flashing lights of the photographers. He blinks and ducks his head and grabs Mum’s hand. She lifts him up and gives him a cuddle as he nuzzles into her neck, and he manages a little grin.

  But not me. I can’t smile. I’m not allowed to.

  ‘Remember, you mustn’t show your teeth – you’ll spoil the photo,’ Mum hissed as the Mercedes drew up at the start of the red carpet.

  I have a gap in the front and snaggle teeth at the sides. Mum says I have to have extractions and braces but I am scared of the pain – and anyway, the orthodontist says we should wait several years. I’d like to wait a century or two. And anyway, I know I’ll spoil every family photo even when my teeth are fixed. I’m not little and blonde and cute like Sweetie and Ace. They take after Mum. I take after Dad. I am dark and I have a wild mane of hair and big nose. They look fine on him but they look awful on me.

  My clothes don’t look right either. Mum picked everything out for me as she doesn’t trust me to choose my outfit myself. I can’t tell which top goes with which bottom (and I don’t care anyway), and the only kind of shoes I like are comfy ones. I wouldn’t mind a pair of sparkly baseball boots just like Dad’s, but Mum says I’d look too much of a tomboy. I’ve got these dinky scarlet boots with really high heels. Sweetie adores them and can’t wait to be big enough to wear them herself – but even Mum says five is too young to wear high heels.

  I am w