Little Darlings (31 page)

‘Who's Peanut?' says Sweetie.

‘She's a little pink Plasticine baby,' I say.

They look stricken, especially Ace.

‘What have you done with Peanut?' I demand.

‘Nothing,' says Ace hurriedly.

‘I think she might have accidentally got squashed,' Sweetie says. ‘So we made her into food for all the little teddies.'

‘Poor little Peanut!' I say. ‘So you've turned the rest of my family into cannibals?' I try to sound cross, but can't help giggling, and the other two join in.

We collect up all the toys, sitting them around the playroom, and then Sweetie and Ace hand out their invitations.

‘Don't forget your big new doll downstairs, Sweetie,' I say. ‘What are you going to call her?'

‘I don't know. I can never think of the right names for people,' says Sweetie.

‘Let's call her Princess Rosabelle,' I say.

‘Oh, yes, that's a
lovely
name,' says Sweetie.

‘
I am the Princess Rosabelle,
I have a pretty name.
I have a pretty face as well,
I like this party game.
'

I sing, making it up as I go along. I think for a moment.

‘
I shall dance with pointy feet
and I shall sing this song.
I will kiss my sister sweet,
Playing all night long
.'

It's hardly a proper song, but Sweetie sings it happily over and over again. Ace wants a song too.

‘
Hear him roar,
Feel him bite,
See him gore,
Watch him fight.
Stripes on his face,
My Tigerman Ace
.'

He likes my song, though he can't remember my words
or
sing the tune, so he just goes ‘
Roar!'
and ‘
Bite!
' and ‘
Fight!
'

‘OK, let's start the party,' I say. ‘Come downstairs with all your guests.'

While they're trying to prop every doll and teddy up on the kitchen benches, I make up the egg sandwiches and pop little toothpicks in the sausages and lay out all the food in pretty patterns on the plates. I don't know how many places to set for real people. I go to the kitchen door and call.

‘Mum, we're about to start the parties. Are you coming?'

I don't really expect her to answer me. She's probably gone back to bed with a bottle. But then I hear her footsteps coming down the stairs, little clip-clops, which means she's wearing her high heels. When she comes into the kitchen we all gasp because she looks so gorgeous. She's wearing her very best silver sequin dress. It's very low cut and clings to her all the way down to her ankles, sparkling and shimmering in the kitchen spotlights. She's washed her hair and then teased it so it's all light and fluffy, and she's put on new makeup, with special silvery eyeshadow. Her eyes are outlined with black like Cleopatra, and she's got beautiful rosy cheeks, but her lips are ghostly pale. She's not wearing any lipstick whatsoever.

‘Oh, Mummy, you look
lovely
!' says Sweetie.

‘You're beautiful, Mum!' says Ace.

‘Oh, Mum, thank you for coming to the parties,' I say.

‘I wouldn't miss the parties for the world,' says Mum.

She sits at one end of the table, I sit at the other end, and Sweetie and Ace wriggle on either bench, forever leaping up to catch a party guest in a state of collapse.

We eat the party food, Sweetie and Ace sharing it out liberally so I have to keep wiping furry snouts and plastic lips. Mum nibbles at one sandwich and a tiny portion of fruit salad, but we're used to her not eating much because of her diet. Sweetie and Ace tuck in enthusiastically.

‘You're
very
good at party food, Sunset,' says Sweetie.

‘Tigerman says
Yum yum yum
,' says Ace.

‘You really shouldn't boil eggs and grill sausages, Sunset. You could burn yourself,' says Mum. ‘But well done, darling. This is a lovely idea. We'll get on fine just ourselves, won't we, kids? We're all having tremendous fun, aren't we?'

We're not
really
having tremendous fun, any of us, but we're all four pretending as hard as we can.

We carry on day by day, trying hard to convince ourselves. On Saturday Dad comes knocking at the door, and when Mum won't answer he tries to get in – but she's bolted the back door as well as the front. Dad yells and taps at the windows. Sweetie and Ace cling to me, crying, not sure whether they want to rush out to Dad or stay safe with Mum. She's acting like Dad is ultra-scary and just wants to hurt us, and we know this is rubbish. Yet somehow it still feels as if we're under siege and Dad is the bad guy trying to break in and hurt us all. He
tries phoning too, over and over again, until it sounds as if the whole house is ringing – but eventually he gives up and drives away.

Mum cheers. We don't know whether to cheer too or cry. Dad doesn't come back on Sunday. This makes Mum triumph again.

‘There! If your dad
really
cared about you he'd be back first thing today.
I
wouldn't rest until I could see you all, my darlings,' she says.

She makes an extra fuss of us and suggests we have a DVD party all evening, with popcorn and chocolate and ice cream – and lots and lots of wine for her.

‘No boring early-to-bedtime. We can stay up all night if that's what we want. Life is much more fun with your mum, isn't it!'

Mum falls asleep first, curled up on the sofa, wine glass still in her hand. She doesn't budge when I try to wake her up. I have to carry Sweetie and Ace up to bed myself, then find a blanket for Mum and put myself to bed too.

We all sleep in till gone ten the next morning. Mum doesn't wake up for ages, so I fix Sweetie and Ace and me some cereal and then, as school has finished, we
play
school. I sit them at the kitchen table with Princess Rosabelle and assorted toys and we do old-fashioned lessons. If any of the
toys are naughty or flop about the bench, I give them a little shake or stand them in the naughty corner with a saucepan for a dunce's cap. Ace is deliberately naughty because he adores standing in the corner, the saucepan at a rakish angle over one eye.

The telephone keeps ringing and I don't know what to do. Mum has forbidden us to answer it – but she's still up in her room. She won't
know
. I think I really need to talk to Dad – he'll be so worried about us. I pick the phone up gingerly.

‘Dad?' I whisper.

But it's not Dad, it's Rose-May.

‘Hello, is that Suzy? Why in God's name haven't you been answering your phone? Anyway, thank heavens you've stopped playing silly beggars. Now listen to me, dear—'

‘It's not Suzy. It's Sunset.'

‘What?' Rose-May sighs impatiently. ‘Could you please put your mother on the phone, Sunset?'

‘I can't. She's not up yet.'

‘Then go and wake her up, it's gone eleven!'

‘Yes, but if I do I don't think she'll talk to you.'

‘For goodness'
sake
, has the woman gone off her
head
? This isn't about Danny. It's about Sweetie.'

‘Sweetie?'

Sweetie looks up from helping Princess
Rosabelle draw a P and an R on her paper as part of her English lesson. ‘What?' she says.

‘I need to talk to Suzy about Sweetie. It's urgent,' says Rose-May. ‘Oh, for God's sake, I'll drive round. I'll be with you in an hour.'

She hangs up. Sweetie and Ace are staring at me.

‘That was Rose-May,' I say. ‘But we won't tell Mum, she might get mad.'

‘Why did you say my name?' Sweetie asks.

‘She says she wants to talk to Mum about you,' I say, bewildered.

‘I haven't been naughty, have I?' Sweetie asks anxiously. ‘I don't want Rose-May to tell me off. She gets quite cross sometimes.'

‘She doesn't want to tell me off too, does she?' Ace asks.

‘Rose-May isn't going to tell anyone off, you pair of sillies,' I say.

Sweetie puts her thumb in her mouth nevertheless. She looks very cute in her little bunny nightie, but if Rose-May is really coming round I'd better get us all washed and dressed.

‘Come on, kids, upstairs,' I said. ‘Bath time.'

Sweetie takes her thumb out and rubs her mouth. ‘My teeth feel all funny, Sunset,' she says.

‘I think they just need to be brushed,' I say.

I get us all ready. When I've towelled Sweetie and Ace dry, I let them put on the princess party dress and the Tigerman outfit, and I wear my black clothes.

Mum's stirring now, peering round the door at us, rubbing her eyes. ‘Oh dear,' she mumbles, ‘I have
such
a headache. Do you think you could make me a black coffee, Sunset?'

She's up and showered and dressed in half an hour, thank goodness. She's tied her hair up in a tartan ribbon and is wearing a little white vest top and skinny jeans. She looks practically Sweetie's age, not like a mum at all.

When she hears a car drive up outside she jumps up. ‘Is it Danny?' she asks.

Then she sees it's Rose-May's pink car. ‘Oh God,
her
! Is Danny with her? Oh, typical, getting his wretched manager to do the negotiating! Well, that stroppy cow can just bog off. She's not
my
manager. I don't have to listen to a word she says.'

Rose-May has her own remote to make the gate open, but she doesn't have a key to the door. She knocks briskly.

‘Knock knock knock, but you can't come in,' Mum mumbles.

‘Mum, hadn't we better just see what she wants?' I say.

‘No, don't let's!' says Sweetie hurriedly.

‘Suzy?' Rose-May is yelling through the letterbox. ‘Suzy, will you please answer the door? I'm starting to lose patience.'

‘As if I care,' says Mum.

‘Suzy, this isn't about Danny – well, not directly. It isn't about you. I need to have a serious discussion about Sweetie.'

‘I don't want a discussion,' says Sweetie.

‘Suzy, can you hear me? There's a very good chance we can make Sweetie a huge television star. I know this has come at entirely the wrong time, and Danny has been totally out of order. I've certainly given him a piece of my mind. I have a feeling he's about to crawl back with his tail between his legs.
However
, like I said, this isn't about Danny, it's about Sweetie. This is the most exciting new television venture I've heard of in a long time.' Rose-May stops shouting and waits for a response.

Mum nibbles one of her false nails. She looks at Sweetie. Sweetie looks at her.

‘Mummy,
am
I going to be a television star?' Sweetie asks. She says it matter-of-factly, as if she's been expecting this to happen sometime soon.

‘I – I don't know, sweetheart,' says Mum. She looks at me. ‘What do you think, Sunset? Do you
think she's telling the truth? Or has Danny put her up to this?'

‘Why don't we ask her in and find out?' I say. ‘You let her in. I'll put the kettle on for a cup of tea.'

I make shooing motions to get Mum to go to the door. Sweetie is already tossing her hair out of her eyes and smoothing the creases in her dress. Ace is pouting.

‘Why can't
I
be the television star?' he protests.

Come to think of it, why can't I? Though I don't really want to go on television – especially when Rose-May tells us all about it. She sits in an armchair, wearing a violet shirt and white trousers, looking very bright and businesslike. I've made the tea in a proper pot and set the tray carefully. I hope she'll smile at me and say, ‘What a lovely cup of tea, Sunset. How clever of you.' She barely notices.

‘The show's going to be called
Little Darlings
, going out early Saturday evening. It's going to be
huge
, just you wait and see! The premise is that they do a documentary on a celebrity family every week. They're going to be using your neighbour, the tennis guy, with his little daughter. They're choosing children who take after their famous fathers. No prizes for guessing which footballer they've chosen, with his eldest son. I knew right
away that Danny and Sweetie were a perfect fit. That child's such a picture, it would be criminal not to use her.'

I try not to react, but Ace is less reticent.

‘Use
me
, Rose-May,' he says. ‘I want to be on television!'

‘I'm sure we
will
see you on television one day, Ace – but you're a tad young just now. The children in the show have to be at least six, just so that no tiny tot is exploited in any way. It's perfect for Sweetie as she's only just had her birthday. My guess is she'll be the littlest and cutest.'

‘What will she have to do? Just look little and cute?' I ask.

‘Oh no, the child has to take after its parent. So here's the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question: can Sweetie sing? Just a little bit, lisp a few words, carry a tiny tune? It's not like they're expecting infant opera, but she will need to sing her little heart out.'

‘I can sing,' says Sweetie. She stands up on the coffee table, spreads out her party dress and opens her mouth. She sings my Princess Rosabelle song in a very little voice, wavering at times – but she looks so sweet she gets away with it. Mum watches her proudly and claps wildly at the end. Rose-May nods.

‘Yep. Just as I thought. She'll walk it. The programme starts with the filmed documentary of the famous pair in their family setting, and then they appear before a live audience in the studio. So Sweetie will do a little act with Danny, singing a duet. I'll try to come up with one of Danny's hits, something really simple. Then Sweetie will round things off with a solo. That Princess song might do – it's quite cute and suits her voice. Who sings it?'

‘
I
sing it,' says Sweetie. ‘Sunset made it up for me.'