Dad, dont come round here any more! When you leave Mum always starts bawling, and she cries right up to the morning, she whined.
I fall asleep, wake up, fall asleep again, and shes still wailing. I ask her, Mum, why are you crying? Is it because of Dad?
Mum says shes not crying, shes just snifflingshes got a cold. Im old enough now to know a cold never sounds like a sob.
I was sitting at a little café in London with my sixyearold daughter Emily, stirring the nowlukewarm coffee in a tiny white cup with a spoon. She hasnt even touched her icecream, though in front of her sits a little masterpiece: a bowl of brightly coloured sorbet balls, each capped with a mint leaf and a cherry, all drizzled in chocolate.
Any other sixyearold would have swooned over that, but not Emily. Shed seemed to decide last Friday that she needed a serious chat with me.
I stayed quiet for a long while, then finally said, What do we do now, love? Do we stop seeing each other altogether? How will I live then?
Emily crinkled her noseher little nose, just like Mums, a bit like a tiny potatoand thought for a moment before answering, No, Dad. I cant be without you either. Heres what well do: you call Mum and tell her youll pick me up from nursery every Friday. Well go for a walk, have coffee or icecream, and you can tell me all about how you and Mum live together.
She paused, then added, And if you ever want to check on Mum, Ill record her on my phone each week and send you the videos. Sound good?
I gave her a small smile, nodded, and said, All right, thatll be our new routine, sweetheart.
Emily let out a breath of relief and finally dug into her icecream. Yet she wasnt finished. The colourful sorbet balls left little whiskers on her upper lip, which she licked off and then set her face to a serious, almost adult expressionalmost a grownups.
She was already thinking about caring for a man, even an older one. Dads birthday had been last week. Emily had drawn him a card at nursery, painstakingly colouring a huge 28 in bright crayons.
She pushed her eyebrows up and said, I think you ought to get married soon. She added, with a generous dose of fibbing, Youre not that old yet, are you?
I chuckled at her goodnatured gesture and murmured, Youll say not that old too, wont you?
Emilys enthusiasm didnt wane. Not that old, not that old! Look, Uncle Simon, whos visited Mum twice now, is even a bit balding She lifted a hand, smoothing the soft curls on her wrist, then realised, when I stared sharply into her eyes, that shed just spilled Mums secret.
She pressed both palms to her mouth, widened her eyes in horror and confusion, and blurted, Uncle Simon? Which Uncle Simon keeps popping round? Is he Mums boss? she asked, almost loud enough for the whole café to hear.
I dont know, love I stammered, taken aback by her sudden outburst. Maybe hes the boss. He brings us sweets and a cake sometimes.
Emily hesitated, weighing whether to reveal that the boss also sent Mum flowers. I intertwined my fingers on the table, staring at them for a long moment. She sensed that I was on the brink of a crucial decision.
She waited patiently, not rushing me to conclusions. Shed already guessed that men can be a bit setintheirways and sometimes need a gentle nudgeespecially from someone as dear to them as she was.
Silence stretched, then I finally sighed, lifted my head, and said, Well, if Emily were a little older, shed probably catch the Shakespearean tone Im using now, like Othello whispering a tragic question to Desdemona.
Emily didnt know any of that, but she was busy gathering life experience, watching people laugh and sigh over the smallest things.
So, I said, lets go, love. Its getting late. Ill take you home and have a word with Mum.
Emily didnt ask what I intended to discuss, but she knew it mattered, and she hurried to finish her icecream.
She realised that whatever I was about to bring up was far weightier than the bestselling sorbet, and with a cheeky grin she slapped the spoon onto the table, brushed the sticky bits from her lips with the back of her hand, gave a little sniff, and looked straight at me, saying, Im ready. Lets go.
We didnt stroll home; we nearly sprinted. I ran, clutching her hand so tightly she felt like a flag waving in the wind.
When we burst into the flat block, the lift doors slid shut slowly, taking a neighbour up to the roof. I glanced at Emily, halfpanicked, and she looked up and asked, Whats the holdup? Who are we waiting for? Were on the seventh floor already.
I scooped her up and bolted up the stairs.
When Mum finally opened the door, I launched straight into it: You cant do that! Whos this Simon? I love you, and we have Emily
I didnt let go of Emily as I embraced Mum too. Emily wrapped her arms around both of us, closed her eyes, because the adults were kissing.
Thats how a tiny girl can soothe two bewildered grownups, loving them both, while they love each other and their pride in equal measure.
Tell me what you think about it, and dont forget to like it.
