Little Darlings (32 page)

‘Really?' says Rose-May. She doesn't look as if she believes it. ‘Not the words
and
the tune? It's your own original song, Sunset?'

I nod, going red.

‘Well, perhaps
you
could be on television too.'

‘I can't sing for toffee,' I say.

‘Perhaps you could be in the documentary. We could film you making up the song – feature
both
Danny Kilman's daughters. Anyway, we have to get Sweetie approved first. I've told the producer all about her. She can come out here tomorrow – say at eleven? You can have Sweetie looking her absolute best by then.' Rose-May looks around the room, shaking her head. ‘I know a magic cleaning firm. I'll give them a ring to see if they can rush round later and spruce things up a bit.'

Mum is still nibbling her nail. ‘Will Danny have to be here too?' she asks.

‘Well, naturally,' says Rose-May. ‘And I know just what a grand act you two can put on. We need a total togetherness, family-love vibe for this programme. I'm trying to rationalize all the tacky coverage of the past weeks, saying that it's simply the tabloid press jumping to ridiculous conclusions. Danny was just kindly showing his new young co-star the high spots of London—'

Mum says a very rude word.

‘Exactly,' says Rose-May. ‘But it's going to be worth it for all of us if we do a good smooth PR job on the situation. I think you and Danny belong together, Suzy. If you stay together it helps Danny's career enormously. He's too old a guy to be rushing off with a teenager. It starts to seem downright unsavoury. The press have pointed this out gleefully but it's not too late to salvage the whole situation.'

‘I don't know that I
want
to salvage the situation,' says Mum. ‘Danny needn't think he can come crawling back to me just to make himself look good.'

‘Fine, dear, if that's what you really want – but you still need him to be earning good money if he's going to be paying you alimony. And if you give
Sweetie this big showcase, I'm sure she'll hit the floor running and turn into a total child star. I'm not just thinking this country, I think she's got huge Disney potential – and I'd be very happy to manage her,' says Rose-May.

‘Oh, say yes, Mummy! I
want
to be a star,' says Sweetie.

So of course she gets her own way. We're all up ultra-early the next morning, making sure the future child star is bathed and brushed and dressed up to the nines. Her own party frock is a little stained and crumpled now, but we swap it with Princess Rosabelle's identical outfit and it fits perfectly. My tummy gets butterflies at the thought of little Sweetie having to sing in front of this unknown producer, but she seems very cool about it, though she's sucking her thumb a lot.

Rose-May drives up with Dad. Thank goodness there's no sign of Lizzi Big Mouth lurking in the car. Dad's wearing his new cowboy hat. He strolls up to the door nonchalantly – but he's looking nervous. Mum opens the door. Our parents stand awkwardly together in the hallway.

‘Oh, Mummy, oh Daddy!' says Sweetie, running from one to the other.

Ace grabs Dad round his knees and hugs him hard.

Mum and Dad are barely looking at each other. Oh no, please, please, please don't let them start yelling at each other. But they stay weirdly calm.

‘Hey, Suze,' Dad mutters.

‘Hi, Dan,' says Mum.

We all go into the big living room. The sweetshop is still standing in the corner, reminding us all of the fateful party. Rose-May sits between Mum and Dad and makes bright general conversation. They all look proudly at Sweetie, who sits neatly on a cushion with her skirts spread out around her, like a little fairy-tale Goldilocks. She's got her thumb in her mouth.

‘Take that thumb
out
, darling,' says Mum. ‘You don't want to look like a baby, do you?'

‘I'm a baby, Mum, look,' says Ace, rolling onto his back and kicking his feet in the air. He nearly knocks Dad's cowboy hat off his head.

‘Watch it, son,' says Dad. He yawns and stretches. ‘God, I'm tired.'

‘You've clearly been having too many late nights,' says Mum bitterly.

‘Oh God, don't start,' says Dad. ‘Where's this producer woman then, Rose-May? We're all here at the crack of dawn because of her so-called busy schedule. So what's happened to her?'

She arrives ten minutes later. She's quite young
and wearing several T-shirts over each other and fashionably ripped jeans, with her sunglasses stuck in her hair like an Alice band. She's called Debs. She smiles at me politely when Rose-May introduces us, she chuckles at Ace – but her eyes totally light up when she sees Sweetie.

‘Oh, she's
gorgeous
, Rose-May,' says Debs.

Sweetie smirks.

Debs squats down in front of her and starts chatting to her in a silly voice. ‘Hello, my poppet. So you're Sweetie, are you? I love your dress.'

‘It's really Princess Rosabelle's but I'm borrowing it,' says Sweetie.

‘Oh, how cute,' says Debs uncertainly, thinking Sweetie is rambling.

Rose-May is acting like the hostess, offering tea or coffee, but looking hopelessly at Mum. She takes no notice so I stand up and say I'll go and make it. When I come back, trying very hard to balance everything on my tray. Rose-May and Debs are deep in conversation about Sweetie.

‘She seems
very
young,' Debs says. ‘Are you
sure
she's six?'

Rose-May assures her that Sweetie's definitely had her sixth birthday.

‘It's just that we're asking rather a lot of a small child. The filming is very tight, and the majority of
the programme will go out live on a Saturday night. I can't afford for anything to go wrong. Any tears or tantrums and the press will crucify me for torturing little kiddies and the programme will be axed. So I need rock-solid children, not little moppets who can easily lose it and go to pieces.'

‘Sweetie's a little star in the making,' says Rose-May firmly. ‘She doesn't know the meaning of the word temperament. Come on, Sweetie, sing your pretty song for Debs.'

Sweetie stands up, mumbling something indistinctly behind the thumb in her mouth.

‘Take your thumb out, darling,' says Mum.

Sweetie takes her thumb out with a little plopping sound and then gasps. There's something sitting on top of her little pink thumb. It's a
tooth
!

Sweetie stares at it, shocked, and then puts her hand to her mouth. She feels the gap. Her eyes pop with horror. She starts crying, dribbling blood.

‘Oh, Sweetie! Oh God,
no
!' says Mum. ‘I
told
you not to keep sucking your thumb!'

‘Hey, it's not her fault. All little kids lose their teeth,' says Dad.

‘Come here, darling, give Mummy the tooth. Maybe we can get the dentist to fix it back in? Or perhaps we can get you a false tooth?' says Mum.

‘Get a grip, Suzy, the child's
six
. And she looks sort of cute with a little gap.'

‘I don't
want
a gap,' Sweetie howls. ‘It feels horrid and there's all this
blood
!'

‘It's only a little bit of blood and it'll wash away. It's OK, Sweetie, I lost my front tooth when I was your age, but you just grow new ones,' I say, putting my arm round her.

‘I don't want new ones like yours, I want my
old
ones!' Sweetie roars.

Debs is sitting looking at Sweetie, then glancing at her watch. Rose-May sees this.

‘Come along, Sweetie, let's forget about your silly old toothy-peg. You're going to sing for us now, aren't you, darling? You don't want to lose this big chance, do you, dear?'

Sweetie tries to stop crying. Mum whips her off to the bathroom to wash off the blood, but this is a big mistake. Sweetie sees herself in the mirror and starts screaming. It takes a long time to calm her down. Debs makes notes, takes a phone call, drinks her coffee. She shakes her head at Rose-May.

‘I don't think this is going to work,' she says.

‘Just give her a chance to calm down, Debs. Come on, she's only a little girl.'

‘Mmm.
Too
little, like I said,' says Debs.

‘Hear her sing, please. I'll go and get her now,' says Rose-May.

She brings Sweetie back. Sweetie is trying very hard indeed not to cry, but she's gulping and hiccuping, tears still rolling down her cheeks. Both her hands are clamped over her mouth, as if she's trying to keep the rest of her teeth secure.

‘Sing, Sweetie, darling,' says Mum.

‘Let's hear you, little princess,' says Dad.

‘Come along now, Sweetie, we're waiting,' says Rose-May.

Sweetie gives the song a valiant shot, but it doesn't work. She sings with her head bent, in a tiny lispy voice that veers on and off the tune. Her voice peters out altogether halfway through and she starts sobbing.

‘Try once more, Sweetie,' Mum begs.

Sweetie goes and buries her head in a cushion, beyond trying.

‘Poor little pet,' says Debs. ‘Don't cry, dear. I know you did your best.'

Sweetie cries harder because she knows she's blown it.

‘Oh well,' says Debs, putting her phone and notebook in her bag.

Rose-May is looking at me. ‘Of course, we could always try Sunset,' she says.

They all stare at me. I feel myself blushing scarlet.

‘I couldn't!' I protest.

‘Maybe you could,' says Rose-May. ‘Of course, you've got an entirely different look to Sweetie – but we could work with it. Try a different approach, kind of tween grunge.'

Debs is eyeing me up and down appraisingly. ‘Mmm,' she says.

‘No,' I say. ‘Absolutely not.'

‘Now then, Sunset, don't be so negative,' says Mum. She looks at Debs. ‘She lacks a little confidence, but I know she'd try hard, given a bit of encouragement. And her hair looks much better when it's styled properly.' She seized handfuls of my hair, trying it this way and that.

‘Yes, but can she
sing
?' says Debs.

‘No,' I say.

‘Hold on now,' says Rose-May. ‘Didn't you say you made up Sweetie's little princess song? So you
can
sing!'

‘I can't,' I say. ‘I truly can't. I would if I could, but I can't. Listen!'

I sing the first two lines of Princess Rosabelle to show them.

‘Try clearing your throat and giving it another go,' says Rose-May.

‘I
can't
sing, I'm always croaky,' I say.

Debs sighs. ‘Never mind, dear. It can't be helped. And you never mind too, Sweetie!'

She's still traumatized, hunched up and hugging the cushion.

Debs shakes her head at Dad. ‘Sorry, Danny, it looks like the programme isn't going to happen – unless you've got any other daughters tucked away.'

She's joking – but I jump up.

‘Yes! Oh please, Debs, will you just watch this—'

‘I'm sorry, Sunset, I've got to get on. Perhaps another time—'

‘No, it will just take two minutes, I swear. And then you'll see.'

‘Sunset? You mustn't waste any more of Debs's time,' says Rose-May.

‘No, please, just watch for two minutes, that's all I ask,' I beg. ‘I'll go and fetch it.
Please
wait.'

I run up to my room, grab the DVD, and come rushing down. My hands are shaking so much I can barely get the DVD out of the case and into the machine.

‘Whatever are you playing at, Sunset?' says Mum.

‘Look, Mum! Look, everyone!' I say.

Bilefield's Got Talent
flashes onto our television screen, with shots of the whole school cheering.

‘Sunset, for heaven's sake, Debs doesn't want to watch a school concert!' says Rose-May.

I fast-forward right to the end and then, oh then, Destiny walks onstage and starts talking about her mum.

Debs is squinting at the screen. ‘Who's this girl? She's dressed like you, Sunset.'

Then Destiny opens her mouth and starts singing. Debs sits up straight and stares at the screen.

‘It's my song,' says Dad.

‘It's that girl!' says Mum. ‘Sunset, how dare you—'

‘Shut up, Suzy. Listen to that
voice
,' says Rose-May.

‘She's incredible!' says Debs when Destiny takes her bow. ‘Who
is
she?'

‘She's Dad's other daughter, Destiny,' I say. ‘She's
not
. She's just some mad groupie's child. She's just fantasizing,' says Mum. ‘Of course that girl isn't Danny's daughter.'

‘She
could
be,' says Rose-May, freeze-framing the DVD and staring hard at Destiny. ‘Look, she's got the right hair, the same cheekbones, even the same stance.' Rose-May looks at me. ‘You know this girl, Sunset?'

‘Yes. And she
is
Dad's daughter, I'm sure of it.'

‘
Is
she, Danny?' says Debs.

‘How do I know?' says Dad.

‘She
can't
be,' says Mum. ‘Her mother's a liar. I bet she won't let that girl have a DNA test.'

‘Calm down, Suzy. Let's think about what we've got here. This could be
huge
,' says Rose-May. ‘Here's Danny, and here's Danny's long-lost daughter, who just happens to have the most amazingly powerful rich voice I've ever heard coming out of a kid's mouth—'

‘We can break the story on my
Little Darlings
programme,' says Debs. ‘Think of the coverage – and the tabloids will be fighting to do a tie-in feature.'

‘I know
Hi!
would be interested,' says Rose-May.

‘No!' says Mum.

But Dad is listening carefully. ‘How would it make me look?' he asks Rose-May. ‘Wouldn't it make me look bad, an illegitimate daughter that I've ignored all these years?'