Dont come around anymore, dad, I told him, trying not to sound too harsh. When you leave, Mum starts crying and she doesnt stop till the morning. Ill fall asleep, wake up, fall asleep again, and shes still sobbing. I asked her, Mum, are you crying because of you? and she said she wasnt crying at all she was just blowing her nose because she had a cold. Im old enough to know a cold never makes you sound like youre bawling.
Dad was sitting with his little girl at a cafe on Portobello Road, stirring the nowlukewarm coffee in a tiny white cup with a miniature spoon. Emily didnt even touch the icecream in front of her a proper eyecandy: bright little spheres under a green leaf and a cherry, all drenched in chocolate. Any sixyearold would have swooned, but not Emily. Shed already, last Friday, decided it was time for a serious chat with dad.
Dad sat quiet for ages, then finally said, So what are we supposed to do, love? Stop seeing each other altogether? How am I supposed to get on?
Emily wrinkled her cute little nose a perfect little button, just like Mums thought a moment, then answered, No, Dad. I cant live without you either. Lets make a deal. Call Mum and tell her youll pick me up from nursery every Friday. We can go for a walk, or if you fancy a coffee or an icecream (she glanced at her bowl), we can sit here. Ill keep you posted on how Mum and I are getting on.
She paused, then added, And if you ever want to check on Mum, Ill snap a photo of her each week and send it to you. Sound good?
Dad gave her a small smile, nodded, and said, Alright, thats the plan then, sweetheart.
Emily exhaled a sigh of relief and dug into her icecream. Yet she wasnt done. She licked the colourful sprinkles that had gathered on her upper lip, looked almost grownup, almost a woman whod have to look after her own man even if that man was getting on a bit. Dads birthday had been the week before, and Emily had drawn him a huge 28 card at nursery, colouring it carefully.
She set her face serious, raised her eyebrows and said, I think you ought to get married soon. She sweettalked a bit, adding, Youre not that old yet, are you?
Dad chuckled, Youre saying Im not that old, huh?
Emily, eager, went on, Not at all! Look, Uncle Simon, whos dropped by Mum twice already, is even a touch balding. See here She tapped her forehead, smoothing her soft curls with a fingertip, then froze as Dads eyes narrowed, as if shed just spilled Mums secret. She pressed both hands to her mouth, eyes wide, trying to look shocked and confused.
Uncle Simon? Whats this Uncle Simon you speak of? Is he Mums boss or something? Dad blurted loud enough for the whole cafe to hear.
I I dont know, Emily stammered, suddenly shy. Maybe hes the boss. He brings us sweets and cake. And, well mum gets flowers from him. She hesitated, unsure whether to share such a personal detail with a dad who sometimes seemed a bit offbalance.
Dad tucked his fingers together on the table, stared at them for a long while, and Emily sensed that he was about to make a big decision right then and there. She knew, or at least guessed, that men can be slow on the uptake and need a gentle nudge, especially from a woman who meant the world to them.
After a long, heavy silence, Dad let out a noisy sigh, unclenched his hands, and finally spoke. If Emily were a bit older, she might have recognised the tone of a Shakespearean tragedy, but she didnt know Othello or Desdemona yet she was just gathering life experience, watching people love and argue over the smallest things.
He said, Lets go, love. Its getting late, Ill take you home and have a word with Mum. Emily didnt ask what he intended to discuss, but she knew it was important, so she kept tucking in her icecream. Then, realizing his resolve was far weightier than any dessert, she flung her spoon onto the table, slipped off her chair, wiped her sticky lips with the back of her hand, blew her nose, and looked straight at Dad, saying, Im ready. Lets go.
They didnt walk home; they practically ran. Dad led, hand on Emilys small palm, like a knight hoisting a banner into battle. When they burst into the lift shaft, the doors closed slowly, taking a neighbour up to the next floor. Dad glanced at Emily, a little bewildered, and she, eyes bright, asked, What now? Who are we waiting for? This is only the seventh floor, you know.
Dad scooped her up and hustled up the stairs. When their flats door finally swung open, Mum stood there, eyes wide. Dad rushed forward, shouting, You cant be serious! Whos this Simon? I love you, Mum, and we have Emily He wrapped his arms around Mum, then pulled Emily in, hugging them both tight. Emily squeezed them both by the neck, shut her eyes, because grownups were finally sharing a kiss.
