Dont ever come back, dad, I told him, eyes brimming. Every time you leave, Mum starts crying and she doesnt stop until the suns up. I drift off, wake up, drift off again, and shes still sobbing. I ask, Mum, are you crying because of you? and she says shes not crying at all just blowing her nose because shes got a cold. But Im old enough to know a cold never makes you sound like youre weeping.
Later, Dad sat across from me at a little tea shop on the High Street, stirring a halfcooled latte with a tiny spoon in a dainty white cup. I stared at the bowl of icecream in front of me a miniature masterpiece of colourful sprinkles, a green mint leaf and a cherry, all drizzled in chocolate. Any sixyearold would have dived in, but I, Poppy, didnt touch it. Ever since last Friday Id decided to have a serious chat with him.
He kept his mouth shut for a long while, then finally asked, What are we to do, love? Stop seeing each other? How am I supposed to live then?
I wrinkled my little nose it looked just like Mums, a tiny potatoshaped tip thought a moment and replied, No, Dad. I cant manage without you either. Lets make a deal. Call Mum and tell her youll collect me from nursery every Friday. If you feel like having a coffee or an icecream, we can sit here together. Ill tell you everything about how Mum and I get on.
I paused, then added, And if you ever want to see Mum, Ill videocall her each week and send you the pictures. Sound good?
Dad gave me a small smile, nodded and said, All right, thatll be our new routine, sweetheart.
Relief washed over me and I finally dug into my icecream. Yet I wasnt finished. As the coloured sprinkles clung to my upper lip, I licked them clean, grew serious, and almost adultlike. I thought of the man Id have to look after someday even if hes older. Dads birthday had been the week before; at nursery Id drawn a big 28 on a card for him.
My face turned solemn again, eyebrows knitting. I think you ought to get married, I said, and, trying to sound generous, added, Youre not that old yet, after all.
Dad chuckled at my wellmeaning push and muttered, Youll say not that old too, wont you?
Encouraged, I went on, Not that old, not that old! Look, Uncle Steve, whos dropped by Mum twice already, is already a bit balding. See? I tapped my forehead, flattening my soft curls with my fingertip. My eyes widened as Dads stare sharpened, as if Id just blurted out Mums secret. I pressed my hands to my mouth, eyes widening in feigned horror.
Uncle Steve? That Steve who keeps popping round? Hes Mums boss, isnt he? Dad halfshouted, drawing a few curious glances from the other patrons.
I dont know, Dad, I stammered, suddenly nervous. Maybe hes her manager. He brings sweets, a cake for everyone, and I hesitated, wondering if I should reveal that Mum had sent him a bouquet of flowers.
Dad clasped his hands on the table, eyes fixed on them, as if weighing a decision of great import. I sensed that, at this very moment, he was about to make a lifechanging choice. A young womanwell, a girldoesnt rush a man into conclusions; she knows men can be slow to decide and need a gentle nudge, especially from someone they love most.
Silence stretched. Finally Dad inhaled a weary sigh, spread his fingers wide, lifted his head and spoke. If Id been a bit older, I might have recognised the tone a tragic whisper like Othellos to Desdemona. But I was only six, oblivious to Shakespeare, merely gathering experience by watching people laugh and fret over petty things.
So, he said, lets get you home, love. Its late, and Ill speak to Mum while were at it.
I didnt ask what he intended to say to Mum; I just knew it mattered. I gobbled the rest of my icecream, then, feeling the weight of his resolve, flung my spoon onto the table, slid off my chair, wiped the chocolate from my lips with the back of my hand, gave a little noseblow and, looking straight at Dad, declared, Im ready. Lets go.
We didnt stroll home; we practically ran. Dad led, his arm around my hand, and I felt like a banner fluttering in a wind, just as Prince Andrew once held his troops flags high at a battle.
When we burst into the lift lobby, the elevator doors sluggishly closed, carrying a neighbor up to the higher floors. Dad glanced at me, a hint of bewilderment in his eyes. I looked up, then down, and asked, What now? Who are we waiting for? Were only on the seventh floor.
He scooped me up and hurried up the stairs. When Mum finally flung the front door open, Dad sprang into action, his voice booming, You cant be doing this! Whos this Steve? I love you, and we have
He wrapped his arms around Mum, then pulled me in as well. I clasped both of them around their necks, shut my eyes, and felt the adult world melt into a simple, crooked kiss.
