Dad, please dont come round any more! Every time you leave Mum starts crying, and shell sob right up until morning.
Ill fall asleep, wake up, fall asleep again, and shell still be wailing. I ask her, Mum, why are you crying? Because of Dad?…
She says she isnt crying, just sniffling because shes got a cold. Im old enough to know that a cold never sounds like tears.
Dad James was sitting at a little tea room with his sixyearold daughter, Emma, stirring his coffee with a tiny spoon in a halfcooled white mug.
Emma didnt even touch the scoop of icecream in front of her, though the plate was a little masterpiece: colourful marbles covered with a green leaf and a cherry, all drizzled in chocolate.
Any sixyearold would have dived in, but Emma held back. Shed already, last Friday, decided it was time for a serious chat with her dad.
Dad was quiet for a long spell, then finally said:
So what are we going to do, love? Stop seeing each other completely? How am I supposed to live then?
Emma wrinkled her cute little nose it looks a bit like Mums, a little potatoshaped thought for a moment and answered:
No, Dad. I cant be without you either. Lets make a deal. Call Mum and tell her youll pick me up from nursery every Friday.
Well go for a walk, and if you fancy a coffee or a cone we can sit in the tea room. Ill fill you in on how Mum and I are getting on.
She paused, then added a minute later:
And if you want to see Mum, Ill film her on my phone each week and send you the clips. Sound good?
Dad gave Emma a soft smile, nodded and said:
Alright, thatll be our new plan, sweetheart.
Emma let out a sigh of relief and finally picked up her icecream. She still had a few words to finish, though. When the coloured marbles left a little mustache on her nose, she licked them off and grew serious, almost grownup.
Almost a lady, thinking about caring for her own husband someday. Even if that husbands already a bit older Dad had just turned twentyeight the week before. Emma had drawn him a big 28 birthday card at nursery, colouring it carefully.
She pushed her eyebrows up and said:
I think you should get married
She added, trying to sound generous:
Youre not that old yet
Dad chuckled at the goodwill gesture and muttered:
You could also say Im not that old
Emma, full of enthusiasm, went on:
Not that old, not that old! Look, Uncle Nigel, whos visited Mum twice already, even a bit bald Here
She lifted a strand of her soft curls and, after Dad gave her a sharp look, she realised shed let slip a secret Mum had kept.
She pressed both hands to her lips, widened her eyes a mix of horror and confusion.
Uncle Nigel? Which Uncle Nigel keeps dropping by? The one whos Mums boss? Dad blurted, almost to the whole tea room.
I dunno, Dad Emma stammered, flustered by his sudden outburst. Maybe hes the boss. He brings me sweets and a cake for everyone.
She hesitated, wondering whether she should tell Mum about the flowers shed received from him.
Dad, fingers intertwined on the table, stared at his hands for a long while. Emma sensed he was making a very important decision at that very moment.
She waited patiently, not rushing him with conclusions. Shed already guessed that men can be setintheirways and need a gentle nudge from the women they love most.
Finally, after a long silence, Dad let out a noisy sigh, lifted his head and said If Emma were a little older shed have caught the Shakespearean tone, the same one Othello used when he asked Desdemona a tragic question.
Emma didnt know Othello or Desdemona yet, but she was gathering life experience, watching people laugh and fuss over the little things.
So Dad said:
Come on, love. Its getting late, Ill take you home and have a word with Mum.
Emma didnt ask what hed discuss, but she knew it was important, and she kept eating her icecream.
Then she realised whatever Dad was about to do was far weightier than the tastiest scoop, so she stuck her spoon on the table, slipped off the chair, wiped her sticky lips with the back of her hand, gave a quick sniff and, looking straight at Dad, said:
Im ready. Lets go.
They didnt walk home; they almost ran. Dad was the one sprinting, but he held Emmas hand tight, almost like a flag fluttering.
When they burst into the lift lobby, the doors creaked shut, taking a neighbour up a floor. Dad glanced at Emma, a little bewildered, then she looked up and asked:
So? What are we waiting for? Who are we expecting? Were only on the seventh floor
Dad scooped Emma up and bolted up the stairs.
When his nervous ringing finally got Mum to open the door, Dad blurted out:
You cant do that! Whats this Nigel business? I love you, and we have Emma
He didnt let go of Emma, hugged Mum, and Emma wrapped her arms around both of them, closing her eyes because the adults were now kissing.
Thats how it goes sometimes: two bewildered grownups soothed by a little girl who loved them both, and they loved her back, even if pride and old hurts lingered.
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