Dont come around here any more, Dad, she whispered, eyes brimming. Whenever you leave, Mum starts crying, and she sobs right through the night. I drift off, wake up, drift off again, and shes still weeping. I asked her, Mum, why are you crying? Is it because of you? She sniffed, shaking her head, Im not crying, loveIve just got a cold. My nose is all runny. I was older then and knew that a cold never makes a voice sound so watery.
Later that afternoon, I sat with my little girl at a corner table in a tearoom, stirring the lukewarm coffee in a dainty white cup with a tiny spoon. Milly didnt even touch the sundae in front of her; it sat in a glass bowl like a piece of artrainbowcoloured marshmallows capped with a green mint leaf and a cherry, all drizzled in chocolate. Any sixyearold would have swooned, but Milly had, since last Friday, decided she needed a serious talk with me.
I kept quiet, the silence stretching, before finally I said,
What’s to become of us, darling? Should we stop seeing each other? How am I to live then?
Milly wrinkled her cute little nosejust like Mums, a tiny button of a noseand thought for a moment before answering,
No, Dad. I cant live without you either. Heres what well do: call Mum and tell her youll pick me up from nursery every Friday. If you fancy a coffee or a sundae later, we can sit in the tearoom together. Ill tell you everything about how Mum and I get on.
She paused, then added,
And if you want to keep an eye on Mum, Ill record her on my phone each week and show you the pictures. How does that sound?
I gave her a slow, small smile and nodded,
Alright, thatll be the way we go from now on, love.
Milly exhaled a breath of relief and turned back to her sundae. Yet she wasnt finished. When the colourful marshmallows had left a tiny moustache of sweet sugar on her upper lip, she licked it away, grew solemn, and spoke almost like an adult, as if she were already caring for a manan older man, mind you. Last week had been my birthday, and Milly had drawn a big 28 on a card in nursery, colouring it with great care.
She set her face in a serious line, furrowed her brows and said,
Dad, I think you ought to get married.
She added a generous lie,
After all, youre not that old yet.
I chuckled at her wellmeaning push,
Youd call me not that old, would you?
Millys enthusiasm didnt wane,
Not old, not old! Look, Uncle Alberthes visited Mum twice already, barely a touch of hair left. See here
She tapped her forehead, smoothing her soft curls with a tiny hand, then froze when I stared sharply into her eyes, as though shed unintentionally let slip Mums secret. Both her palms pressed to her mouth, eyes widening in feigned horror,
Uncle Albert? Which Uncle Albert keeps turning up? Mums boss? I boomed, halfraising my voice so everyone in the tearoom could hear.
I I dont know, Milly stammered, suddenly shy. Maybe hes the boss. He brings us sweets, a cake for everyone. And, she hesitated, wondering whether to share the fact that Mum had sent him a bouquet of flowers, Mum gets flowers from him.
I clasped my hands together on the table, staring at them for a long moment. I realized then, in that very instant, that I was about to make a decision of great importance. Milly sensed it, waiting patiently, not rushing me. She already knewwell, guessedthat many men are a bit slow on the uptake and need a gentle nudge, especially the one I treasured most in my life.
Silence held us both until at last I inhaled sharply, unlocked my jaw, lifted my head and said If Milly were older she might have recognised the tone, the tragic weight of Othellos question to Desdemona. But she knew nothing of Shakespeare; she was simply gathering experience, watching people love and grumble over the smallest of things. So I said,
Come along, love. Its getting late; Ill take you home and then have a word with Mum.
Milly didnt ask what I intended to discuss, but she knew it mattered. She hurried to finish her sundae, then, realizing that whatever Id decided outweighed even the most delicious treat, she tossed her spoon onto the table, slid off her chair, wiped the remnants from her lips with the back of her hand, sniffed once, and looked straight at me,
Im ready. Lets go.
We didnt walk home; we almost ran. I held Millys hand tightly, and she flapped about like a banner in the wind, just as the banners of Lord Arthur at Waterloo once did when rallying his troops. As we burst into the lift lobby, the doors sighed shut, taking a neighbour up to the top floor. I glanced at Milly, bewildered, and she, from bottom to top, stared back and asked,
So? What now? Who are we waiting for? Its only the seventh floor.
I scooped her up and bolted up the stairs. When my mother finally flung open the flat door, I rushed straight to her,
You cant behave like that! Whos Albert? I love you, and we have Milly.
I pulled Mum into my arms, keeping Milly close, and Milly wrapped her arms around both of us, squeezing her eyes shut. The adults shared a kiss, and the world seemed, for a heartbeat, perfectly ordinary.
