Little Darlings (13 page)

‘Aren't you in bed yet, Sunset?'

She doesn't tell me what to do because she's not my nanny, I'm too old to need one. Claudia's only been with us a few months. She's not foreign like most of the others, and she's very posh. She talks like people in an old-fashioned film. She
looks
old-fashioned too: she wears a black velvet Alice band to stop her straight mousy hair falling in her eyes and she has very crisp white shirts and irons her jeans. I heard Mum and Dad giggling about her once, taking off her accent. They're not giggling now. They're shouting at the tops of their voices so you can hear them clearly in my bedroom. They're calling each other all kinds of things. Claudia is pink in the face and her eyes don't quite meet mine.

‘Night-night then, Sunset,' she says.

‘Night, Claudia.'

She pauses. Dad bellows something and then the front door slams. Mum yells something after him and then starts sobbing. I hear the car rev up and drive away.

‘I'm sure everything will be hunky-dory in the morning,' Claudia says softly.

‘Mmm.'

She hesitates, then comes right up to me in the wardrobe and gives my shoulder a quick pat. I freeze because I don't like anyone coming near me when I'm in Wardrobe City. All my people freeze too. They can never show they're real when strangers stare. And now I'm getting older and a little bit ashamed of playing pretend games, they won't become real even when the strangers go. I am abandoned outside the city wall with a handful of shabby little ornaments and worn-out toys.

Claudia doesn't understand. ‘Night-night,' she repeats dolefully, and backs out of my room.

Oh dear, now she'll think I don't like her. No one really likes poor Claudia, not even Sweetie and Ace. We should be friends, because no one really likes me either.

I sit back on my heels and shut my eyes tight so that I don't start crying. I can still hear Mum.
Maybe it's all my fault this time. I heard her shrieking something about a girl. Perhaps she feels dreadful that Dad has another daughter. Maybe I should have shut up about her.

But I can't help thinking about Destiny. I wish I knew her email address. I need to tell her mum that I kept my promise. I did tell Dad. I want to email Destiny. It's not just because she might be my sister. I want her to be my friend.

I go out in the garden early next morning in the mad hope that they might have come back, but there's no one there. It suddenly feels so lonely standing all by myself in our huge garden.

I go to check the garage. Dad's car is still missing. I wrap my arms around myself. I can feel my heart thumping. Dad's gone, and maybe it's all my fault.

Mum doesn't come down to breakfast either, but I know she's here. I try going into her bedroom but she shouts at me to go away. She's got her head under the duvet so I can't see her, but it sounds as if she's still crying.

I don't think Sweetie and Ace know that Dad's still out, but they can guess something's wrong. Sweetie is extra whiney and won't eat her yoghurt and banana, and cries when Claudia tries to brush her hair.

‘It hurts, it hurts! I want
Mummy
to do it, and I hate horrid plaits anyway,' she moans, sticking her lower lip out.

‘Mummy's not feeling too good, Sweetie. Do keep still. You know you have to have plaits at school,' Claudia says, trying her best. ‘Ace, you need your hair brushed too. It's sticking up all over the place.'

‘I'm Tigerman and I never never never get my hair brushed,' he says. He reaches for his juice, not quite watching what he's doing, and spills orange all down his white T-shirt.

‘Oh, Ace, now I'll have to get you changed all over again,' says Claudia.

‘I'm Tigerman and I never never never get changed. I don't wear clothes at all, I just have my stripy skin,' Ace declares. He pulls off his T-shirt, his shorts, even his underpants, and runs around naked, growling.

Claudia looks as if she's about to burst into tears.

‘Come here, Tigerman. You're just my little cub and I'm the great big Daddy Tiger, and you have to do as I say or I'll smack you with my giant paw,' I say. I catch him and lift him up and blow a raspberry on his tummy so that he squeals with helpless laughter.

I carry him off and sponge all the sticky juice off
him and stuff him into clean clothes, keeping him happy by starting up a tiger-roaring contest, seeing which of us can roar the loudest.

‘For God's sake, stop that ridiculous noise, you're giving me a headache,' says Margaret, the housekeeper, going downstairs with a breakfast tray. ‘You kids are the giddy limit. No wonder your mum's taken to her bed with a migraine. You should be ashamed of yourself, Sunset, a great girl like you playing silly games and egging your brother on when you should be getting ready for school.'

It's so unfair that my eyes prick with tears.

‘Now now, don't turn on the waterworks,' says Margaret, pushing past us.

Margaret can be really mean sometimes. She likes Sweetie best – she's always making her special fairy cakes and chocolate cookies, and letting her lick out the bowl. Sweetie plays up to this and cuddles up to Margaret and says sickening stuff like, ‘Oh, Margaret, I do love you. You're the best lady in the world next to my mummy.'

I get lumbered taking Sweetie into the Infants while Claudia drags Ace into the Nursery. All the kids smile and wave and call to Sweetie the moment they spot her, but she hangs back, clutching my arm.

‘What?' I say irritably.

‘Mum and Dad were quarrelling
again
,' she mumbles.

‘Yes, I know.'

‘Sunset . . . do you think they're going to split up?'

My tummy lurches. I wish she hadn't put it into words.

‘Of course not, Sweetie. All mums and dads quarrel,' I say, trying to sound very grown up and certain. ‘You mustn't worry about it.'

‘But Daddy hasn't come back. I went into Mum and Dad's room when I woke up and he wasn't there,' Sweetie wails.

‘He just had to go to this club to see some of his friends,' I suggest. ‘You know what Dad's like with his music mates – they stay out till all hours.'

I'm trying to convince myself as much as Sweetie. She's still frowning at me, biting her lip. Her hair's lopsided and straggly because Claudia hasn't got the knack of plaits, and she's got a rim of orange juice round her mouth. She still manages to look breathtakingly pretty.

‘Come here,' I say, spitting on a tissue and scrubbing at her.

‘Leave off!' she says, struggling, but when I've
wiped off most of the orange she leans against me. ‘Sunset, if Mum and Dad split up—'

‘I said, they're not going to.'

‘Yes, but
if
– what will happen to us? Will we live with Mum or will we live with Dad?'

‘They'll both want you, Sweetie,' I say. ‘Maybe they'll have to chop you in half.'

It's just a silly joke but her face crumples.

‘Don't cry! I didn't mean it, I was just being silly. Oh, Sweetie, don't worry, they're not splitting up, I promise, but if they do, then maybe they'll take turns looking after us, or we'll stay with Mum during the week and Dad at weekends – whatever.'

‘But will we still live at
home
, with Margaret and John and Claudia and Ace?' asks Sweetie.

‘Yes, of course,' I say, and she relaxes and runs off to join her little friends.

I trail round to the Juniors. The bell's already gone so I'm late, but I don't care. I'm thinking about Mum and Dad and home. I'm especially thinking about Wardrobe City.

John comes to collect Sweetie and me in the car at the end of school (Ace goes home with Claudia at lunch time). John's his usual silly self, telling us very bad jokes and making funny snorty pig noises, and Sweetie laughs and laughs, but as we draw up on the drive she quietens and starts
sucking her thumb. But Dad's Jag is there. I blink hard – yes, it really is there. He's back, so maybe everything's all right.

We go into the house and there are flowers in the hall, flowers all over the big living room, the lily smell so heady it makes me feel dizzy. Mum and Dad are sitting together on the big cream sofa, holding hands. Mum's wearing tight white trousers and a white lace top with a wide apricot belt and strappy gold high heels. Dad is all in black but he's wearing an apricot-coloured bandanna and three big gold rings. They are a matching pair, smiling smiling smiling, speaking softly in turn – because they are being interviewed.

The journalist is sitting opposite them, taping every murmur with her little recorder, but she's scribbling in her notebook too, her long false nails getting in the way.

I hang back, especially when I see the photographer setting up his gear in the corner, but this is Sweetie's cue to be cute.

‘Daddy! Mummy! I'm home from school,' she trills, and goes rushing up to them, giving them both a big hug, though she knows to be very careful. Woe betide her if she gets grubby fingers on Mum's white lace or knocks Dad's bandanna askew, showing his bald bits. Mum and Dad smile
at her fondly and she wriggles between them, quaint in her red and white checked school dress, one sock up and one sock down, her red hair-ribbons trailing. Dad laughs and pulls her plaits; Mum shakes her head and ties her ribbons and pulls up her socks, but oh, so fondly.

‘Oh, what a sweetheart!' says the journalist. ‘She just obviously has to be Sweetie. So where's your other daughter?' She looks around the room and her cold blue eyes spot me skulking in the corner.

‘Yes, come here, Sunset, darling,' says Mum, holding out her arms.

I have to do the hugging bit too, lumbering above them both, too big and awkward to cuddle in between them.

‘Oh, let's have a family shot!' says the journalist. ‘Haven't you got a little boy too?'

‘Run and find Ace, Sunset, there's a little darling.'

So little darling goes off on an Ace-hunt. He's not in the playroom with Claudia or in the kitchen with Margaret. I look in the office and find Rose-May and Barkie. Rose-May is Dad's manager. She's got a soft flowery name and speaks in a soft whisper. She even looks soft and flowery: she's got fluffy blonde hair and she wears floaty tops and lots of perfume. However, she is so not soft
and flowery herself. She's the only person I know who tells Dad what to do. She never shouts. When she's cross her voice gets even softer, but it's like she's a rose who's grown very sharp thorns. Dad doesn't argue with her, he does exactly what she says.

Barkie's not really called Barkie – her name's plain Jane Smith – but Dad always used to call her Barking Mad and now Barkie's her affectionate nickname. She doesn't mind. When she comes round she says on the intercom, ‘Woof woof, it's only me.'

Barkie's known Dad since way back, when he first started his career. She was one of his number-one fans, following him from gig to gig. It was her idea to start up a fan club and she's been running it ever since. She's not exactly a
fan
now, because she's a middle-aged lady and she knows Dad too well, but she still melts whenever he looks at her. She's very nice but very, very plain, with goofy teeth even worse than mine, so Mum doesn't mind her staying close to Dad all these years. He treats her like his pet dog, patting her bony shoulders and ruffling her hair. He calls her his Number-One Girlfriend.

‘Hello, Sunset,' says Rose-May. ‘What's the matter?'

I'm not looking at her, I'm looking at Barkie.

Maybe she used to know Destiny's mother.

‘I'm looking for Ace,' I say. ‘That journalist wants to see him.'

‘No, no, it was meant to be a Danny solo interview. I didn't even want Suzy in on the act,' Rose-May whispers, her little pink mouth puckering. ‘It was meant to be about a new album, a new tour—'

‘Is Danny
doing
a new album and tour then?' Barkie asks eagerly.

Rose-May sighs. ‘We're testing the water, Barkie. Calm down. Oh well, it looks as if it's going to be a family interview now. With photos.' She looks me up and down. ‘Perhaps you'd better change, Sunset – and maybe get Claudia to fix your hair,' she murmurs. ‘I think she's upstairs with Ace. I'll go and chivy them along.'

She moves off purposefully, leaving a cloud of her flowery perfume in her wake. I wrinkle my nose and sneeze.

‘Bless you,' Barkie says kindly, tapping away on her computer. ‘Wouldn't it be exciting if Danny
did
do a new album, Sunset? Oh my, wouldn't the fans be overjoyed?'

‘Barkie, you know you've been a fan for ages yourself, before Dad got together with Mum? Well,
do you remember who Dad was going out with then?'

Barkie smiles at me, showing all her bad teeth. ‘Your daddy's had lots of girlfriends, dear,' she says, with a little giggle. ‘He used to be quite a lad in the old days.'

‘Do you remember him seeing this very thin dark lady, Kate Williams?'

‘Your dad didn't introduce his girlfriends to me, sweetheart.'

‘No, but I think this lady might have been special to him,' I say. I don't think I should tell Barkie about her maybe having Dad's baby. It might upset her terribly, the way it did Mum. ‘She certainly still thinks the world of Dad,' I add.

Barkie smiles and taps her screen, where she's updating the fan club membership details. ‘So many ladies think the world of Danny,' she says.

Something clicks inside my head. ‘Barkie, can you see if there's a Kate Williams on the fanbase?'

‘Well, it's supposed to be confidential.'

‘Oh, Barkie, please, I
know
her. Well, I know her daughter, and I need to get in touch. I don't know their email address. Please just have a peep for me. Quick, before Rose-May gets back.'

‘All right then,' says Barkie, typing
Kate Williams
onto the screen.