Candyfloss (6 page)

‘I’ve had enough practice! My Saul used to come
back
covered in mud every single time he went out to play,’ said Rose.

She rinsed out the bowl and got a clean cloth. ‘Now, sir, let’s sort you out.’

‘I’m not a sir! I’m Charlie,’ said Dad. ‘And this is my little girl Floss.’

‘How do you do, Charlie. OK, let’s get you cleaned up properly. That little toerag gave you a nasty split lip as well as a bloody nose. No kissing for you for a day or two!’

‘Chance would be a fine thing,’ said Dad.

She mopped Dad
very
gently. Dad can be a bit of a baby when he cuts himself, but he didn’t wince once, not even when she dabbed his cuts with antiseptic.

‘Now, what about your legs? Are they cut too?’ she said, peering at the great rips in the knees of Dad’s jeans.

‘Just skinned. They’re fine,’ said Dad.

‘Oh, you’re such a stoical chap,’ said Rose. ‘Still, it must have been a nasty shock. I think we could both do with a nip of brandy, don’t you?’

She poured two drinks in pretty crimson glasses, and she gave me a lovely lemonade in a green glass goblet.

‘White wine, madam?’ she said, serving it with a flourish.

‘Delicious!’ I said. ‘But I couldn’t possibly have
a
cup of tea too?’

‘You don’t like tea, Floss!’ said Dad.

‘No – but I want Rose to read the tea leaves.’

‘Well, to tell you the truth, lovey, I’ve only got tea bags in my caddy. But I’ll read your palm, how about that?’

‘Oh yes, please!’

I thrust it at her eagerly. She sat down beside me and took my palm in hers, looking at it intently.

‘Aaah!’ she said.

‘What? Oh please, what is it?’

‘Rose is going to tell you that you bite your nails and you’ve just had a birthday and you’re the apple of your dad’s eye!’ said Dad, laughing.

‘Oh,
Dad
,’ I said.

‘Yes, shush, Dad,’ said Rose. She delicately traced the lines on my hand. ‘Now, this line is broken – which tells me you’ve had a little heartache, and you’ve felt torn in two – is that right?’

‘Oh yes!’

‘Don’t worry though, darling, I can see very happy times ahead. Yes, there are going to be a few changes in store.’

‘I don’t think I like changes,’ I said. ‘I’ve had too many.’

‘No, no, these are good changes, you wait and see.’

‘What are they?’ I said warily.

‘Ah, that’s for you to find out in the future!’

‘Can’t you give me a hint or two?’

‘They’re changes to do with your home, your family, your friends—’

‘Oh no! Is Rhiannon going to break friends with me and go off with Margot?’

‘You wait and see.’ She gently chucked me under the chin. ‘Don’t look so worried. You wait – there are all sorts of signs and portents. This is your lucky break, Floss.’

‘Is it mine too? I could certainly do with my luck changing,’ said Dad.

‘Do you want me to read your palm too?’

‘Mmm, maybe not! I’m not sure I’d like what I heard,’ said Dad, downing his drink. ‘Well, you’ve been so kind to us, Rose. We’d better not keep you away from your candyfloss stall any longer. Come on, Floss, it’s ages past your bed time.’

‘Well, if you change your mind, come back and find me,’ said Rose, smiling at him. ‘Now, the least we can do is give you both a free ride on something. What do you fancy? The Big Wheel? The Waltzer? The Rotunda?’

Dad looked at me. I looked at him.

‘Another go on Pearl?’ said Dad.

‘Oh please!’

So we had one more magical ride on the roundabout. Pearl galloped round and round on her
silver
hooves, pink mane and tail flying. We flew with her, and as the hurdy-gurdy music played, I sang in my head,
Our luck is changing, our luck is changing, our luck is changing!

5

I DECIDED TO
tell Dad that night, but I was too tired to do more than scrub candyfloss off my face, brush my teeth and then collapse into bed.

I decided to tell Dad over breakfast instead, but he made special croissants, putting a funny black beret on his head and hanging a string of plastic onions round his neck, pretending to be French. I couldn’t tell him when he was prancing around singing
Frère Jacques
and calling me his little cabbage.

I decided I’d tell Dad before lunch, but we went to the park and fed the ducks all the stale bread left over from the café. There was so much, the ducks had a veritable banquet, quacking appreciatively whenever I shook the bags and it started snowing chunks of bread. I didn’t want to spoil their fun – or ours.

I decided to tell Dad during lunch, but he sat me down in the café and pretended I was a very
special
customer. He served me a funny little salad in the shape of a clown’s face – lettuce hair, boiled egg eyes, and a cherry tomato nose.

‘There! Tell your mum I give you ultra-healthy nosh,’ said Dad. ‘OK, now for pudding.’

It wasn’t quite as healthy. Dad garnished big slices of birthday cake with cream and ice cream and raspberry sauce, making a totally heavenly birthday pudding. I couldn’t possibly spoil it by blurting out my news.

We were so full afterwards we flopped at either end of the sofa and watched our ancient old video of
The Railway Children
. It jumps around a lot and sometimes gets stuck but we know it so well it’s not a problem. We chanted along with it half the time. At the very end, Bobbie goes to the station and she sees her father and goes running to him, calling, ‘Daddy, oh my daddy.’

My dad is a big silly softie. He always cries at this bit and I tease him rotten. Only this time I thought what it must really have been like to be poor Bobbie, parted from her father all that time – and I was the one who burst out crying.

‘Hey! No blubbing allowed! That’s
my
job,’ said Dad, giving me a little loving poke. Then he looked at me properly. ‘You’re not
really
crying, are you, Flossie? What’s the matter, eh? You can tell your old dad, can’t you?’

That was just the trouble. I
couldn’t
tell my dad, it was just too awful. I wound my arms round his neck and clung to him tightly.

‘I’m going to miss you so, Dad,’ I sobbed into his old grey jersey.

‘I’m going to miss you all week too, sweetheart. I just live for our weekends together, especially now . . . Well, I’ve got in a bit of a muddle with money, and things are a bit dodgy at the café. Still, as long as I’ve got you, that’s all that matters,’ said Dad, rubbing his bristly cheek against the top of my head.

I sobbed harder.

‘Hey, hey, don’t cry so, little Floss. Your curly mop feels so silky. You’re like my own special candyfloss. Watch out I don’t eat you all up.’ He made funny golloping noises, pretending to nibble my curls.

I couldn’t help giggling, even though I was still crying hard.

‘That’s it, start cheering up, my darling. Wonderboy Steve will be calling for you soon in his flash car and I don’t want him telling your mum you’ve been miserable with me. You’ve got to be the all-singing, all-dancing happy little girl who thinks her parents splitting up is a piece of cake. And
talking
of cakes, better not tell your mum we scoffed a whole birthday cake between us or we’ll really be for it!’

‘Dad? Oh, Dad!’

‘What is it, little pal? Spit it out.’

‘I don’t know
how
,’ I wailed.

Then I heard a car draw up outside. I reared up off the sofa. It was Steve, far too early. Steve and Mum and Tiger, all come to collect me.

I had to spit it out now. It torrented out like a waterfall.

‘Dad, I can’t bear it, but we’re going to Australia, Steve’s got this new job and we’re moving there next month, they’ve only just told me and I’ve been trying to tell you all weekend and I haven’t been able to and they say it’s not for ever, just six months, but it will
feel
like for ever and I feel like I’m being cut in half because I love you so, Dad.’

The doorbell rang. Dad shook his head, looking dazed. For one terrible moment his face crumpled up. Then he took a deep breath and tried to smile.

‘That’s really exciting news, Floss,’ he said. ‘Australia, eh? Well, sport, we’ll have to buy you one of them funny hats with corks on.’

‘Do you mind terribly, Dad? Are you cross with me?’

‘Of course I’m not cross with you, silly girl. I do
mind
, obviously. I’ll miss you dreadfully. Just you make sure you don’t forget your old dad.’

‘Oh Dad, as if!’ I said.

The bell went again. Someone knocked loudly with their knuckles on the café door.

‘Come on, sounds like your mum’s getting impatient,’ said Dad.

I clung to him like a baby monkey, unable to let him go. He staggered with me to the door and opened it with difficulty.

‘What are you playing at, Charlie? We’ve been ringing and knocking for ages,’ said Mum. She looked at me. ‘Oh Floss, you’ve got yourself in a silly state!’ Then she looked properly. ‘What on earth’s that pink thing you’re wearing? And whose silver shoes are those? They’re
way
too big for you!’

Dad gently put me down. I wobbled on my high heels.

‘They’re my birthday princess clothes,’ I sobbed. ‘I think they’re beautiful.’

‘Yes. Well. Get your things together then, we’ve got to be off. We’re going to Steve’s mum for tea.’ Mum caught Tiger’s fist. He was trying to pick peeling paint off the café door. ‘Don’t, pet! Dirty! Yes, we’re off to see Granny, aren’t we?’

‘She’s not
my
granny,’ I said. ‘I want to stay with Dad.’ I wound my arms as far as I could round Dad’s large waist and leaned my head against his chest. I could hear his heart going
thump-thump-thump
underneath his jersey.

‘Don’t start behaving like a baby, Floss. You’ll be able to see your dad again before . . . before . . .’

‘Before you all go to Australia,’ said Dad, patting me on the shoulder.

‘Yes, Australia!’ said Mum, looking Dad in the eyes for the first time. ‘So Flossie’s told you?’

‘Yes, she has. She’s a bit upset about it, as you can see,’ said Dad.

‘Well, you’ve obviously been stirring her up. She’s really thrilled to bits. It’s a fantastic opportunity,’ said Mum. ‘Steve’s done so well, getting this job.’

‘I’m
not
thrilled,’ I mumbled to Dad. ‘I wish she’d just shut up about Steve.’

‘What was that?’ said Mum.

‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’ said Dad.

‘Well, we’re telling you now,’ said Mum. ‘Steve’s going to be in charge of this whole new Australian branch at double his current salary, and—’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ said Dad. He obviously wanted Mum to shut up about Steve too. ‘What I mean is, how is it going to affect Floss? And me, for that matter. It’s going to kill me not seeing my little girl.’

‘Sorry about that, pal,’ said Steve. He’s
not
Dad’s pal, not in a million years. ‘It wasn’t deliberate, you know. I didn’t even put in for the job in Sydney,
they
simply offered it to me.’ He shrugged and smirked to show us he couldn’t
help
being so brilliant and clever and in demand.

‘It’s all very well saying sorry,’ said Dad. He looked at Mum. ‘What about my right to see Floss? I’ve got joint custody, you know that.’

‘You can come and see her any time you want,’ Mum said calmly.

‘How am I going to get there? Walk?’ said Dad.

‘I can’t help it if you can’t afford it,’ said Mum. ‘We can’t miss this golden opportunity. There’s nothing you can do about it, Charlie.’

I felt Dad sag a little.

‘I don’t suppose there is,’ he said, so sadly. ‘Well, I hope it all works out for you. And don’t you worry, little Floss, we’ll write lots. You never know, I might win the lottery and then I’ll come flying over to see you straight away . . . or I’ll put on my Superman pants and soar all the way to Sydney under my own steam.’

He was trying to make me laugh but it just made me cry harder.

‘Come on, Flora, don’t be such a little drama queen,’ said Mum. ‘Change out of those silly shoes, take that frock off and let’s get going.’

I unhooked myself from Dad. I wiped my eyes and took a step backwards. I looked at him. He had tears in his eyes too, though his mouth was
stretched
into a clown smile-shape. Then I looked at Mum and Steve and Tiger. My two families.

I suddenly knew where I belonged.

‘I’m not going,’ I said.

Mum sighed. ‘Look, Granny Westwood’s expecting us, and Tiger’s getting restless. I want to give him his bottle in the car and settle him off to sleep.’

‘I’m not going
at all
,’ I said. I took a deep breath. ‘I’m not going to Australia. I’ve decided. There’s nothing you can do to change my mind. I’m staying with my dad.’