Little Darlings Read online

  ‘There now, Ace. He doesn’t like to be held by strangers,’ says Mum.

  ‘Really?’ says the girl. She raises her eyebrows at Dad. ‘Most guys do.’

  There’s a ripple of laughter amongst all the girls. Dad laughs too. Mum looks furious, clutching Ace so tightly that he cries harder.

  ‘Shh now, you promised to be a big boy so you can see Daddy’s film,’ says Mum. ‘Let’s take our seats.’

  She starts to push her way through the crowd, Sweetie and me on either side of her – but Dad stays where he is, beside the girl with the big mouth. Mum turns and looks at him. Sweetie prattles on about Milky Star. Ace grizzles and whines. They haven’t got a clue. Mum mouths something at Dad, looking pleading. Dad pauses – then turns his back on her. He leans towards the girl with the big mouth and whispers something in her ear. She laughs.

  I feel so sick I think I’m going to have to rush back to the ladies’ and throw up. Mum’s looking greeny-white too, clutching Ace, her eyes swivelling in case anyone is watching.

  Dad’s saying something else, his head very close to the girl’s, so that her big mouth is nearly smearing his cheek with her shiny lipstick. People are pushing past them, ready to take their places in the cinema auditorium, but they’re chatting and laughing together, totally relaxed, as if they’re in a room by themselves. It’s as if Mum and Sweetie and Ace and me have suddenly stopped existing.

  Mum bites her lip, swaying a little. Sweetie tugs at her impatiently. Mum clearly doesn’t know what to do. Should we go into the auditorium without Dad? What if he never comes to join us? Everyone will see the empty seat. And what about after the film when we go out? The photographers will still be there. ‘Where’s Danny?’ they’ll shout. ‘Hey, what have you done with Danny? Why aren’t any of you smiling? Little munchkin with the red boots, smile.’

  I can feel my eyes filling with tears. Dad still has his back to us. Dad, I yell inside my head. Dad, Dad, Dad!

  He turns as if he’s heard me. He says one more thing to Big Mouth, and touches her arm, his hand cupping her elbow, then he casually strolls over to us as if nothing has happened. He gives me a wink, he blows Sweetie a little kiss, and gently tweaks Ace’s snub nose.

  ‘Come on, then, kids, let’s see the film,’ he says, as if we’re the ones who’ve been keeping him waiting.

  Mum gives him a dazzling smile and hustles us along beside him. ‘Cheer up, Sunset,’ she hisses in my ear. ‘For heaven’s sake, this is meant to be a treat.’

  I’m so muddled I try to smile to please her – and see her wince in irritation.

  ‘Hide your teeth!’

  I feel like biting her with my ugly teeth. I hold it together until we’re sitting all in a row and the lights go down, and then I let my tears spill. I wipe my cheeks quickly with the cuff of my smock. Ace is still grizzling too, thrashing about on Mum’s lap.

  ‘Can’t you shut him up?’ Dad hisses. ‘I told you he was too little.’

  ‘He wants to see his daddy in the movie, don’t you, Ace, darling?’ says Mum. ‘He’ll hush in a minute.’

  She tries giving him his dummy in the dark, but he keeps fidgeting with it, making silly slurpy noises.

  ‘Look, I’ll get some girl to look after him,’ says Dad.

  ‘You try to quieten him, Sunset,’ says Mum, quickly plonking him on my lap.

  I take hold of him firmly by the arms, not his tummy – he can’t stand that. ‘I’m Mummy Tigerman and we’re all cosy in our lair and we have to stay still as still or the bad men will come and get us,’ I whisper in his ear.

  I put my chin on his silky head and rub it backwards and forwards, and after a minute or so I feel him go floppy. He wriggles his bony little bottom further up my lap and lolls his head, silently suck-suck-sucking his dummy.

  Sweetie is secretly sucking her thumb too, cuddling up to Mum, stroking the soft satin material of her skirt. Mum nestles close to Dad, while he sits wide-legged, slightly slumped, his arms over the backs of the seats on either side.

  I wonder if the girl with the big mouth is sitting nearby. It feels as if she’s squeezed up right next to me, whispering in my ear. Watch out, she’s saying. You sit there playing Happy Families, but I can get you.

  But slowly slowly I start to get involved in the film. I like Milky Star too, especially little Davie the drummer, the goofy youngest one. The other three are all ultra-cool, but little Davie always oversleeps, he’s always the last to get a joke – he is the joke half the time as we watch him falling down the stairs and slipping on a banana skin. The other boys are pursued by girls – in fact one of the girls is Big Mouth, blowing kisses all over the place – but no one ever blows a kiss to little Davie.

  Another film starts spooling in my head simultaneously, a film where I’m six or seven years older and Davie bumps into me in the street and we both laugh and apologize and then we go for a cup of coffee, and by the end of the evening we’re girlfriend and boyfriend and Davie lets me play on his drums and I’m so good at it I get to be part of the band too, and Davie and I drum away together for the rest of our lives . . .

  Then the audience laughs and I blink at the real Davie on the screen – and then see Dad. There he is, strutting down a Soho street, his hair tousled under his bandanna, his long black leather coat flapping, and round the corner all four Milky Star boys see him, then gasp and gibber and clutch each other. They get right down on their knees, crying, ‘Oh, Danny, we’re not worthy,’ while Dad puts his boot up on their backs and stands proudly, arms raised, as if he is a lion tamer and they are four unruly cubs.

  There’s a great whoop of laughter in the cinema, and Dad throws his head back and laughs too. He sits up straight now, suddenly bigger, and his laugh is the fattest, funniest laugh of all. Mum laughs along with him, and Sweetie giggles, jumping up and down in her seat. Even Ace wakes up a little and speaks through his dummy.

  ‘Ook at Dad! Ook at Dad!’ he mumbles.

  Well, I’m looking. I watch the film-Dad carefully as he struts down the street, waving one careless hand to the four Milky Stars. I see little old ladies in the street shriek at him and totter along behind, dragging their shopping trolleys, stumbling in their Dr Scholl’s. They’re playing Always and For Ever in the background, but it’s slightly distorted and off-key – and when they get to the line at the end of the chorus, When the wind blows, there’s a sudden blast of wind that nearly blows Dad’s bandanna away and tangles his hair, making him totter too, like an old man.

  Everyone in the cinema is rocking with laughter, but maybe it’s not so funny. Maybe they’re laughing at Dad the wrong way. Maybe they’re laughing because Dad isn’t young and cool and fresh like the Milky Star boys any more.

  Dad’s still laughing but not so loudly now. He’s leaning forward, staring at the screen intently. His own enormous face stares back at him, every line and pore magnified. Then he’s gone and we’re back looking at Milky Star and the audience settles down again. Ace falls asleep but Sweetie starts fidgeting.

  ‘When will there be another Dad bit?’ she whispers loudly to Mum.

  ‘Soon,’ says Mum, though she sounds uncertain. ‘Watch Milky Star – you like them.’

  ‘Not as much as Dad,’ says Sweetie.

  The people in the row in front and the row behind all hear and go ‘Ahhh!’ Dad’s heard her too, and his arm snakes out. He gets hold of her and pulls her onto his lap. There’s another ‘Ahhh’ at Danny Kilman and his exquisitely pretty little daughter Sweetie.

  That’s what they called her in Hi! Magazine: Danny Kilman with his exquisitely pretty little daughter Sweetie, enjoying very special family fun. Dad was riding on a carousel at some charity fête last summer, sitting on a white painted horse with Sweetie in front of him, clutching the gold twisty pole. Dad’s hair was all tousled then too, but he didn’t look lined at all, maybe because he was laughing. Sweetie was laughing as well, wearing a little frilly white top and tiny pink shorts, showing off her flat golden tummy. It’s so unfai