Dont come round any more, Dad, Evelyn said, eyes wide. Whenever you leave, Mum starts bawling. She cries til dawn. I fall asleep, wake up, go back to sleep, and shes still sniffling. I asked, Mum, are you crying because of Dad? and she claimed it was just a cold, blowing her nose. Im six now; I know a cold doesnt sound like a sobbing river.
Tom sat across from his little girl at a tiny table in a Camden café, stirring the last drops of lukewarm coffee in a thimblesize white cup. Evelyn didnt even touch the sundae in front of her a miniature masterpiece of rainbow sprinkles, a green leaf and a cherry, all drenched in chocolate. Any sixyearold would have pounced, but Evelyn had, the previous Friday, decided it was time for a serious chat with her dad.
Dad stared at her for a long, solemn moment, then finally broke the silence.
So, what are we going to do, love? Stop seeing each other altogether? How on earth am I supposed to live then?
Evelyn wrinkled her cute, slightly potatoshaped nose a trait shed inherited from Mum thought it over, and replied:
No, Dad. I cant manage without you either. Heres the plan: call Mum and tell her youll pick me up from nursery every Friday. Then we can have a stroll, and if you fancy a coffee or an icecream, well sit right here. Ill fill you in on everything Mum and I get up to.
She paused, then added:
And if you ever feel the need to check up on Mum, Ill snap a picture of her each week and send it to you. Deal?
Tom gave his daughter a slow, amused smile and nodded.
Alright, thats how well do it, sweetheart.
Evelyn exhaled a sigh of relief and turned back to her sundae. Yet the conversation wasnt over; she needed to deliver the final, most important line. As the colorful sprinkles gathered on the little moustache shed drawn on her nose, she licked them clean, straightened up, and spoke in a tone that sounded almost adult.
Dad, you know you turned twentyeight last week, right? I drew you a giant 28 in nursery. I think its about time you think about getting married.
She tossed in a generous lie for good measure.
After all, youre not exactly ancient yet.
Tom chuckled at the wellmeaning suggestion.
Not exactly ancient, you say?
Evelyns enthusiasm didnt wane.
Not ancient, not ancient! Look, Uncle Barry, the one whos visited Mum twice already, is practically bald now. See?
She pointed to her own forehead, smoothing her soft curls with a tiny hand. Then, sensing her dads sudden, sharp stare as if shed accidentally spilled Mums secret she pressed both palms to her mouth, widened her eyes, and put on the look of bewildered horror.
Uncle Barry? Which Uncle Barry keeps popping round? Is he Mums boss or what? Tom barked, halfshouting across the café.
I dont know, Dad, Evelyn stammered, suddenly tonguetied. Maybe hes the boss. He brings us sweets, a cake and sometimes, well, Mum gets flowers.
Tom interlaced his fingers on the table, staring at them for a long beat. Evelyn realised that, in that very instant, he was about to make a weighty decision. She waited patiently, knowing that men often need a gentle nudge preferably from the most precious woman in their lives.
Silence stretched, then finally Tom let out a dramatic sigh, untangled his knuckles, lifted his head, and spoke. If Evelyn were a few years older, shed have recognised the tone of a Shakespearean tragedy, but at six she only knew that grownups sometimes sound like theyre auditioning for a drama club.
Come on, love. Its getting late. Ill walk you home and have a word with Mum.
Evelyn didnt ask what he intended to discuss; she just sensed it was important. She hurried to finish her sundae, then, as if the icecream were a mere garnish to the main course, she slammed her spoon down, slid off her chair, wiped her sticky lips with the back of her hand, gave a little noseblow, and looked straight at Tom.
Im ready. Lets go.
They didnt stroll home; they practically sprinted. Tom led, hand firmly clasped around Evelyns, while she flailed her arms like a banner in a breeze, reminiscent of a knights standard at a historic battle.
When they burst into the lift lobby, the doors creaked shut, whisking a neighbor away to an unknown floor. Tom glanced a little bewildered at Evelyn, who, standing tall, asked:
So? Whatre we waiting for? Were on the seventh floor, after all.
Dad scooped her up and dashed up the stairs. When they finally reached the flat, Mum flung the door open, and Tom launched straight into his rehearsed speech:
You cant justwhos this Barry fellow? I love you, and we have Evelyn
He wrapped both Mum and Evelyn in a tight embrace, while Evelyn clutched them both around the neck, closed her eyes, and smiled. After all, adults do kiss in the hallway, and she was happy to be the little witness to it all.
