Little Darlings (21 page)

‘I'll do my best to make sure Sweetie enjoys her birthday,' Claudia says coldly.

‘That wretched woman!' she mutters to herself as we go out the gate, Claudia, Sweetie, Ace and me.

‘Mum gets awfully worked up before we have a magazine shoot,' I say.

‘Why does she think it's a good idea to turn her own daughter's birthday into a commercial bear-garden?' says Claudia.

‘Bear-garden!' Ace repeats. ‘Where are the bears in the garden? I'm Tigerman and I want to play with the bears, but they might have big claws.'

‘You roar at them and they'll run away,' I say.

Ace roars at every hedge and tree and picket fence along the road. Sweetie skips along beside him, pointing her toes.

‘It's ridiculous,' Claudia grumbles to me. ‘Imagine making the poor little mite wait till the
photographer's there before she can open her presents! And did you know Margaret's been told to make two birthday cakes just in case they can't get all the photos they need of her blowing out the candles and cutting the cake the first time round.'

‘I
like
having two cakes,' Sweetie calls.

‘And then apparently there are going to be all these completely strange children coming, not Sweetie's real friends from school, but celebrity children. I'm willing to bet Sweetie's never even met half of them before.'

‘I know. I had that happen to me for one of my birthdays when I was little, and it was awful. I didn't know what to say to anyone, and I had to play all these awful games, and there was a clown doing silly tricks and he scared me. I'm so glad Mum doesn't make me have birthday parties now.'

‘You're silly, Sunset,' says Sweetie. ‘I love having birthday parties. I want to play
lots
of games. Mummy says the birthday girl always has to win. I shall wear my violet dress and Mum says I'll have real rosebuds in my hair.' She skips round and round us, her hair flying out in a golden cloud.

‘Will you have flowers in
your
hair, Sunset?' Claudia asks.

‘Maybe thistles and dandelions?' I joke. ‘No fear!'

I like the way the words sounds, like a bouquet
for a witch's child. I start making up a little song as we walk down the road towards the busy hill and the bus stop.

Thistles and dandelions,
They are my flowers.
Burdock and tangleweed,
Blackberries sour,
Rosehips and crab apples,
They are my fruit.
Rabbit foot, snakeskin
And eye of newt,
Duck's beak and antler
Ground up for a spell.
I am the witch's child
But I wish you well.

It takes me a while to get all the lines right, and I haven't got a pen and paper so I have to keep mumbling it over and over as we wait at the bus stop. The music comes easily – it's strange and eerie, and every fourth line I drag out the words with a little wavery bit at the end.

I'm almost as excited about the bus ride as Sweetie and Ace. I've only been on a bus twice before, and even though I'm ten
I
want to sit upstairs at the front and pretend to drive the bus.
I sit beside Claudia, humming my new song very softly to myself.

Sweetie and Ace sit on the other front seat, jumping up and down with their hands on the front rail, little knuckles white, though Claudia keeps begging them to sit down nicely. She's vaguely nodding to my tune.

‘Is that one of your dad's songs?' she asks.

‘No, it's mine,' I say proudly.

‘Sing it,' says Claudia.

‘I can't. I'm rubbish at singing.'

‘Go on, have a go.'

So I kind of whisper it. Claudia listens carefully.

‘Did you make that up all by yourself?'

‘Well, sort of,' I say, blushing. ‘I think I copied “eye of newt” from Shakespeare, and we once had to read a poem called “Goblin Fruit” in drama, and I copied from that just a little bit.'

‘It's very good,' Claudia says quickly. ‘Perhaps you should sing it to your dad?'

‘He wouldn't be interested,' I say.

‘Sunset, he's your
dad
. He'll be proud of you,' says Claudia, though she doesn't sound totally sure.

‘Is your dad proud of you, Claudia?' I ask.

Claudia smiles. ‘Oh yes, my dad's a silly old sausage. I was never one of the brain boxes at my
school, but I won a prize for thoughtfulness when I was about your age, Sunset, and when I marched up to collect my certificate there was this terrific hooting sound and it was silly old Daddy blubbing. Can you imagine!'

I'm trying my hardest to imagine it.

‘What about your mum? Is she proud of you too?'

I hope I'm not being terribly tactless. I don't think Claudia's mum could possibly be proud of her. She isn't at all pretty and she has a habit of wrinkling her nose to hitch her glasses up. I would have thought she'd be forever on at Claudia to get a decent haircut and use more make-up on her shiny face and switch to contact lenses.

‘Oh, Mummy's a lamb,' says Claudia, still smiling. ‘She always
says
she's proud of me, though heaven knows why, because I always make rather a bish of things. She calls me her extra-special favourite daughter – but she says that to both my sisters too, she's so sweet.'

I think about last prize day when I won the English prize. Dad didn't come. He said those kinds of affairs gave him the fidgets. Mum
did
come, and she said, ‘Well done' – but she also nagged on and on about the way I'd walked up to the front of the hall. ‘Plod plod plod, like a
ploughman,' she said. ‘Maybe we ought to send you back to ballet.'

I try to see myself reflected in the bus window. I'm wearing my new black T-shirt and jeans and my lacy mittens. I thought at first when I put them on this morning that I might look a little bit cool, but now I'm not so sure.

When we get to Kingtown Sweetie wants to go straight to the shops, so we let her, because it is her birthday. There's one of those make-a-bear places in the big shopping centre. Sweetie isn't that interested – she'd sooner go to the shop that sells all the glittery jewellery and make-up – but the manager is standing near the doorway and comes rushing out.

‘Are these Danny Kilman's children?' she asks Claudia, sounding awestruck. She must be a keen reader of
Hi! Magazine
. ‘Oh, my! Would they like a complimentary bear each?'

‘That's very kind, but no thank you,' Claudia starts politely.

‘Oh, please, please,
please
, Claudia, I'd
love
a bear,' Sweetie begs, switching on the charm simply because it's second nature now.

‘I want a Tiger! I'm Tigerman and I want a toy tiger!' says Ace.

‘Ace, stop it. You mustn't ask for things,' I say,
but I want one of these teddy bears too, even though I know I'm much too old.

We all look pleadingly at Claudia, who looks anxious but eventually gives in. We take a long time choosing our bears and their outfits. Sweetie dithers for a while, exclaiming, while the manager clucks and coos in her wake. She eventually chooses a very flushed pink bear in a magenta ballet frock. Ace sticks in tiger mode and chooses his new stripy friend blue pyjamas and a dressing gown. I can't decide. All the teddies look so cute and floppy and helpless. I pick one and then another and then a third, gazing at them intently, trying to guess their personalities.

‘Oh, for heaven's sake, Sunset!' says Claudia.

I get flustered and plump for a panda, though when she's stuffed I'm not sure I really like her after all. Her head's slightly on one side as if she's sneering at me and her body's too big and bouncy. I'd like her to wear black jeans and a black T-shirt but they don't make them. I have to compromise with a white blouse and blue denim dungarees.

‘Why did you pick a little boy panda, Sunset?' Sweetie asks.

‘It's a
girl
,' I hiss – but she doesn't look like one any more.

‘There now,' says Claudia. ‘Say thank you very much, children.'

But we're not finished yet. We have to stand by the shop sign holding out our bears and smiling while the manager whips out her camera. Claudia fusses, not at all sure she should allow this, but she can't make us give back the teddies now they are made up and personalized, so she's stuck.

‘Smile, please. Say cheese,' says the manager.

‘That's what little mice eat. My Rosie bear says
honey
,' says Sweetie.

‘My Tiger bear doesn't say anything, he just roars and roars,' says Ace.

‘What does your panda say, dear?' the manager says kindly to me, so I'm not left out.

I shrug, horribly embarrassed, because I'm too old to play this game. My panda casts her beady eyes on me contemptuously, refusing to say a word.

We pose for further photos and then Sweetie drags me off to the sparkly accessory shop. She hopes the manager there will also tell us to take our pick of the goodies on sale, but if she recognizes us she's not letting on. Sweetie rushes from one stand to another, marvelling at earrings, lilac nail polish, pearly lipsticks, neon pink feather boas, dinky purses, cute key-rings and sparkly tiaras. She's in Sweetie Heaven.

‘Don't get too excited, Sweetie, I haven't got my wallet with me,' Claudia fibs.

‘Don't worry, Claudia,
I've
got money,' says Sweetie, delving into the pockets of her smock. She produces a twenty-pound note in each hand! ‘Daddy gave me some birthday spending money.'

‘Oh my Lord,' says Claudia, rolling her eyes. ‘You're six years old, Sweetie, and he's given you
forty
pounds to fritter away?'

‘Where's
my
spending money?' Ace wails, sitting down and trying to tug his Tiger free from its packaging.

‘Don't undo that, Ace, for pity's sake. Stand up, you're getting in everyone's way.'

‘It's not your birthday, Ace, it's
my
birthday, and Daddy says birthday girls get lots of treats,' says Sweetie, sticking a tiara on her head and flinging a feather boa round her neck.

Claudia winces but doesn't argue. She catches my eye as Sweetie darts around the shop. ‘I told a teeny fib about my wallet, Sunset,' she whispers. ‘Do you want to choose a little something for yourself?'

‘I'm not really into all this sparkly stuff,' I say. ‘But thanks anyway, Claudia.'

‘I tell you what. We'll go to Paperchase when Sweetie's done and buy you a special little
notebook to write your songs in,' says Claudia. ‘Would you like that?'

‘Oh! Yes
please
,' I say.

‘That's not
fair
!' Ace complains bitterly. ‘Sweetie's getting heaps of girly stuff and Sunset's getting notebooks and I'm getting
nothing
.'

‘For heaven's sake, you've just been given your lovely toy tiger.'

‘He's
tired
!' says Ace, yanking him right out of the cardboard box. ‘He's in his jim-jams and he's yawn-yawn-yawning and he wants to go to
sleep
. Night-night!' He sprawls on the floor right in the doorway, where everyone has to step over him, his Tiger bear clutched to his chest – just as Sweetie reaches for a diamanté necklace and pulls the whole jewellery stand down on top of her.

‘Oh,
why
did I ever think I wanted to be a wretched nanny?' says Claudia, nearly in tears.

She tries to set the stand to rights, while I yank Ace up out of the way and tell him that it's getting-up time now, and pour Tigerman and his pet a pretend glass of Tiger juice for breakfast.

We get out of the shop at last, Sweetie bedecked in all her new finery. Ace wants real juice now, so we go to a café and have a healthy juice each, and then several deliciously
un
healthy doughnuts. We have to go to the ladies' on the top floor to wipe
all the sugar off Ace's mouth (and his Tiger bear's paws). There's a toyshop nearby and so we have to spend a long time in there too. I start to worry that Claudia's forgotten about my notebook, but after we've found a tiny toy bus for Ace and a little pocket doll for Sweetie, Claudia nods at me.

‘Right, Sunset.
Now
we're going to Paperchase.'

I
love
Paperchase with all its brightly coloured stationery. I want to spend hours gently stroking each notebook in turn, carefully flipping through the pristine pages, happily deliberating, but Ace and Sweetie are bored now and I have to pick my notebook in double-quick time. I choose a little blue velvety one with blank pages so I can draw little pictures to illustrate my songs. When Claudia buys it for me I can't quite manage to give her a hug and a kiss because I'm too shy, but I squeeze her hand very tightly to show her how happy I am.

‘There now!' she says cheerfully.

‘Can we go home for my party now?' Sweetie asks.

Claudia looks at her watch. ‘No, darling, not quite yet,' she says. ‘Shall we go for a nice walk along the river?'

‘Yes, Tigerboy and I want to go swimming!' says Ace.

Claudia changes tack quickly, realizing this is not a good idea at all. ‘No,
I
know, let's find a playground,' she says.

This idea takes us all by surprise. I know what a playground is, of course – children play on the swings in picture books – but I didn't think they still existed. Sweetie and Ace get really excited.

‘A playground, a playground!' says Sweetie. ‘I want to go to the Fairy Palace!'

‘No, I want to go on Space Mountain. I know I'm big enough,' says Ace.

‘No, no, it's not like Disneyland,' I say quickly.

It's not
remotely
like Disneyland. When Claudia eventually finds us a playground, it's small and grey and dismal, with little tyre swings and a tame short slide and a tiny roundabout. A little gaggle of kids about my age wearing hoodies and tracksuits are lolling on the roundabout or draped, tummy-down, on the swings. They peer over at us, particularly Sweetie in her tiara and feather boa.