Little Darlings (30 page)

‘Oh, Claudia,' I say, stricken. ‘Promise you won't go too.'

‘Sunset, I've made plans, remember? I did tell you.'

‘Yes, but that was different. Dad was still here and everything was OK, sort of. Please don't go just yet!'

‘Do you have any clue how to make pancakes? I know you put batter in a frying pan, but how do you
make
the batter . . . ? Try not to worry so, Sunset. I promise I'll stay as long as I can.'

But Claudia leaves in a few days. It's not her fault. Mum gets really worked up and angry when the post comes one morning because Dad's solicitor sends her a letter all about childcare arrangements during their separation.

‘I'm not going to go along with this tosh,' says Mum, crumpling up the letter and throwing it in the bin.

It's already overflowing with tissues and take-aways and lots of bottles. Our daily cleaning lady, Danka, seems to have stopped coming too. The house has got really messy without her, and the kitchen is horrible, with stuff spilled all over the floor. Poor Bessie the cat is very upset because her litter tray is really, really dirty and she doesn't like to use it like that. I have to pinch my nose and tip the horrible litter into a big plastic bag. I try to do a bit of mopping too, but I just seem to smear everything around instead of cleaning.

I go to the wastebin now, wanting to see the letter.

‘For God's sake, Sunset, don't start scavenging round the bins,' says Mum. ‘What can you possibly want in there?'

‘I want to know if Dad still wants to see us,' I mumble.

‘Well, of course he does. He's demanding this and that, wanting to see the three of you every weekend, laying down the law about it – just so he can parade you around with that floosie for the benefit of all the paps. Well, he's not a fit parent. He can't clothe you, he can't even remember to feed you, so I'm not having it. It's a load of nonsense anyway. He could never be bothered to so much as play with you when he was living here. Why all the big fuss about his rights as a father the minute he walks out? What sort of a father is he, anyway? He doesn't give a damn about any of us. When has he ever done anything for you, Sunset? He just brushes you away and says, ‘‘Not now, babe,'' if you so much as try to talk to him.'

This is so horribly true that I put my hand to my face, trying not to cry. Claudia's trying to unload and repack the dishwasher. Mum's crammed it ridiculously full, with saucepans bashing against glasses. She's already broken several of the stems, and Claudia is fishing shards of glass out as she goes.

‘Really, Suzy, you should be more careful. This is highly dangerous,' she says, wrapping the glass in newspaper. She turns to me. ‘Your dad might be busy sometimes but he still loves you very much,' she says.

Mum gets even angrier. ‘Don't you tell me off in that silly fancy voice! I'm the one who tells you what to do. And don't try to fill Sunset up with that rubbish about her dad. He
doesn't
love her very much. She's a total embarrassment to him.'

I feel as if the glass shard is sticking in my stomach.

‘That's the most terrible, unfair and
awful
thing to say to your own child,' says Claudia. ‘Your mother's being incredibly unkind because she's upset, Sunset. Of course your father loves you. Don't listen to her.'

‘Excuse me? How dare you take that attitude with me!' Mum shrieks. ‘You're just the wretched nanny.'

‘You seem to have turned me into the chief cook and bottle-washer now,' says Claudia. ‘But yes, I am the nanny, and I have your children's interests at heart.'

‘You just want to turn them against me, like everyone else,' says Mum. ‘And I'm not standing for it. You can get out of here now. Come on, pack your bags and go.'

‘I'll very happily go, but not till you've made arrangements to have the children properly looked after.'

‘How dare you dictate to me! You'll pack and be out of here in half an hour or I'll call the police! I don't need you or anyone else to look after my children. I can look after them myself.'

So Claudia goes, though she weeps when she says goodbye.

‘I'm so very sorry, Sunset. I wish I could stay – but if I insist it will only make her worse. I'm sure she'll calm down a bit when I'm gone. And I've got your father's mobile number. I'll let him know the situation. Apart from anything else, I'm actually owed a lot of money, but that doesn't really matter. You're the ones who matter, you and Sweetie and Ace. Your parents don't deserve you –
especially
you, Sunset. You're a sweet, warm, lovely, clever girl and don't you forget it. I'd be proud to have you as my daughter.'

I start crying then, and Sweetie and Ace join in. We're all three realizing too late that Claudia is the best nanny we've ever had. But she's off in a taxi and we're left alone in our huge house with Mum.

I don't know what to do. I want to run upstairs and hide in Wardrobe City – but here's Sweetie and Ace wailing beside me, and Mum flat out on the sofa howling too. So I go into the bathroom and wash my face. When I look at myself in the mirror I hear
Total embarrassment,
total embarrassment
, but I say loudly, ‘
Shut up!
'

Then I wash Sweetie's face and brush her hair, which calms her down. It's harder with Ace, who screws up his face and screams, but I cup his chin with my palm and wipe all his tears and snot away. He's still sniffling when I've finished, but at least he's not messy.

‘Now,' I say, ‘I want you to be Tigerman today, Ace. I'll help you climb into your costume. And you, Sweetie, are going to be a fairy princess, so we'll put on your party dress.'

They both blink at me.

‘Am I having another party?' Sweetie asks.

‘We can have a party for you, if that's what you'd like,' I say.

‘
I
want a party. It's not fair, Sweetie's just had one,' Ace starts whining already.

‘It's your party too, a special Tigerman party. We'll have two
simultaneous
parties. That means two parties at the same time.'

‘
Real
parties, with real food?' says Sweetie, who is used to my pretending.

‘Yes, we can have real party food,' I promise grandly.

‘Are you having a party too, Sunset?'

‘No, I am the party
planner
,' I say, rubbing my black lacy hands together.

‘Will there be guests?' Sweetie asks. ‘Can I invite Daddy?'

I take a deep breath. ‘No, the only guests have to be inside this house. You can invite Mum – and your new big dolly. And me. You'll have to make proper invitations. You've got new crayons and a drawing book, Sweetie. Go and find them and I'll show you both how to do invitation cards. You can draw a fairy princess on yours, Sweetie, and if you're kind enough to lend Ace your black and orange crayons, he can draw a Tigerman on his.'

I leave them lying on their tummies in their party gear, colouring in their invitations. Sweetie's frock is getting creased but I decide it doesn't matter. I don't think she'll ever be wearing it again.

I go down to find Mum. She's making angry calls on her mobile, tears still running down her cheeks.

‘That stupid, useless agency,' she says. ‘They're telling me there isn't anyone suitable currently available! I don't believe it! ‘‘Because of exceptional demand!'' Well, of
course
there's demand, it's a temp agency. They tell me to try next week –
next week
! – when there won't be any point because we'll all have starved to death, and if we
are
still going strong we'll be ankle-deep in rubbish. And when they
do
deign to send a
housekeeper and a nanny they want me to find ‘‘alternative means of payment''. Do you know what that wicked father of yours has done? He's cancelled all my credit cards! Oh, Sunset, what are we going to do?'

‘We'll manage, Mum, you and me.'

‘Oh yeah, you're going to start paying the wages, are you?'

‘We won't have to pay any wages, because
we
can do the cooking and the cleaning and look after Ace and Sweetie.'

‘You're still only a silly little kid – and
I
don't have a clue when it comes to cooking and cleaning and stuff.'

‘You must have cooked and cleaned before you got famous, when you lived in those flats.'

Mum hates being reminded that she grew up on a council estate. She glares at me. ‘You don't know what you're talking about. We didn't do any cooking, we just went down the chippy, and as for cleaning, don't make me laugh! I was out of that filthy hole by the time I was sixteen, earning my own money as a model. Sunset, I was thinking, I might have had three kids but I reckon I could still do a bit of modelling, especially with my latest boob job. What do you reckon?'

I reckon she's crazy, but she's perked up a little
at the thought, so I go along with this idea. ‘Yeah, of course you could, Mum. You're still ever so pretty. Though at the moment your mascara's gone a bit smudgy. Hold on a tick, I'll get a damp flannel and wipe it off. Or why don't you go and have a shower, do your hair, get yourself all glammed up, because Sweetie and Ace are having a party.'

‘Are you crazy, Sunset? We've only just held the most disastrous party ever. Are you deliberately trying to drive me insane? Hello?' She taps my forehead hard with her long false nails. ‘Is there anyone
in
there?'

That's it. I'm suddenly sick of her. I knock her hand away. I very nearly slap her face.

‘Yes, there
is
someone in here, Mum. I'm Sunset and I'm a
person
. I've got feelings. I'm sick sick sick of everyone being horrible to me. I'm trying hard to look after everyone, even you. Sweetie and Ace were crying so I thought I'd distract them with the idea of a party, just a play one, and it's got them all cheered up. This is all so
scary
– can't you see that?'

‘Don't you dare talk to me like that!'

‘What are you going to do? Tell me to pack my bags like Claudia? Get a new daughter from the agency – a pretty one with perfect teeth? I know
you don't really want me but you're stuck with me. So why can't you stop moaning and crying and getting cross with everyone and look after us. You're the mother!'

She looks astonished, as if Sweetie's doll on the chair has suddenly stood up on her own two plastic feet and shouted at her.

‘All right, I'm the mother – but I wish I wasn't!' she says, and she runs out of the room.

I don't know where she's going or what she's going to do. I decide I don't care. I go into the kitchen and peer into the fridge, wondering what we can have for party food. Well, we can have ice cream for a start, and there's a big bowl of fruit. I can chop it up and make a fruit salad. We've got sliced bread so I can make sandwiches. Egg sandwiches! I can boil eggs, you just put them in a saucepan on the stove, for goodness' sake. Then I can mix them up with mayonnaise. What else? I find a big packet of crisps and a pack of chipolata sausages. We've got a grill. I can line the little sausages up and brown them, easy-peasy.

I make a start. It isn't quite as simple as I thought. My eyes have to swivel everywhere, making sure the sausages don't burn, and the eggs clank together in the pan and start cracking. My hands ache from chopping fruit and spreading
bread. When the eggs and sausages are cooked and I'm waiting for them to cool down, I look around the kitchen to see if there's any way I can brighten it up. I've decided it's the most suitable place for the party venue. The big living room would just bring back painful memories, and it's better to avoid anywhere with carpets when Ace is eating.

I wish I had balloons. I make do with a handful of Sweetie's hair-ribbons, tying big bows round the kitchen drawer handles.

Then I dash upstairs to see how Sweetie and Ace are getting on. They've been surprisingly quiet. They're not in the playroom, though there are lots of invitations stacked across the floor. They've found potential guests too – Sweetie's Rosie teddy and two Bratz dolls, and Ace's Tiger bear and several little toy soldiers. They're lying higgledypiggledy on the floor as if they've already
been
to a party and are now dead drunk.

I hear whispering and giggling. Sweetie and Ace are in my room. I rush across the landing and through the door. They've not just gone into my room. The wardrobe doors are wide open and the doll's house is open too: they're in Wardrobe City! They are holding Mrs Furry and Mr Fat Bruin and Chop Suey and Trotty in their hands, making them jump about and talk in little squeaky voices.

‘What are you
doing
?' I cry.

Sweetie and Ace jump guiltily. They know Wardrobe City is strictly forbidden territory. A few weeks ago I would have screamed my head off, snatched up all my precious private friends and bundled Sweetie and Ace out of my room. But now it's so strange, I don't really mind particularly. Wardrobe City isn't real to me any more. It's just a lovely toy that I used to play with – and now Sweetie and Ace like playing with it too.

‘Sorry, Sunset! We'll put all your people back,' says Sweetie quickly.

‘It's OK. I think I'm going to let you two play with my doll's house now, if you're very careful – and only when I say so. Shall we ask this one, Mrs Furry, to the party?'

‘Oh, yes, let's! She wants to come to my princess party,' says Sweetie.

‘Mind you look after her carefully. She might feel very small and shy standing next to your Rosie bear.'

I put nearly all my people back in their favourite places. I search around, looking in little cupboards and under tiny beds.

‘Where's Peanut?' I ask.