Dad, dont come back to us, Emily says, her voice trembling. When you leave, Mum starts crying and she doesnt stop until dawn. I fall asleep, wake up, fall asleep again, and shes still crying. I ask her, Mum, are you sad because of Dad? and she tells me she isnt crying at alljust blowing her nose because she has a cold. Im old enough to know a cold never makes your voice sound watery.
James sits with his sixyearold daughter at a little café on Oxford Street, stirring the cooled coffee in a tiny white cup with a petite spoon. Emily hasnt even touched the icecream in front of hera miniature masterpiece of coloured sprinkles, a green mint leaf and a cherry, all drizzled with chocolate. Any child would have dived in, but Emily hasnt; last Friday she decided she needed a serious talk with her dad.
James remains silent for a long beat, then finally asks, What are we supposed to do, love? Stop seeing each other completely? How am I supposed to live then?
Emily wrinkles her cute, slightly potatoshaped nosejust like Mumsand replies, No, Dad. I cant be without you either. Heres what well do: call Mum and tell her youll pick me up from nursery every Friday. If you feel like having a coffee or an icecream, we can sit in the café together. Ill tell you everything about how Mum and I get on.
She pauses, thinks a moment, then adds, If you ever want to check on Mum, Ill film her on my phone every week and send you the videos. Does that sound good?
James looks at his clever girl, smiles faintly and nods, Alright, thats how well live from now on, sweetheart.
Emily lets out a relieved sigh and finally digs into her icecream. Yet she isnt finished speaking. As the coloured sprinkles form tiny moustaches above her nose, she licks them off, straightens up, and adopts a serious, almost adult tonelike a young woman who already feels responsible for a man, even an older one. James just had his twentyeighth birthday last week, and Emily had drawn him a big 28 card at nursery, coloring it carefully.
Her face grows solemn, eyebrows knit, and she says, I think you should get married.
She adds, trying to be generous, Youre not that old yet, after all.
James chuckles at her goodwill, replying, Youll call me not that old too, wont you?
Emily, full of enthusiasm, continues, Not at all! Look, Uncle Steve, whos visited Mum twice already, is even a bit balding. See? She points to her forehead, smoothing her soft curls with a tiny hand. Then she freezes as Jamess eyes flash sharply at her, as if shed just let slip a family secret. She quickly presses both hands to her mouth, widens her eyes, trying to convey shock and confusion.
Uncle Steve? Which Steve has been dropping by? James raises his voice, almost to the whole café. Is he Mums boss or what?
II dont know, Emily stammers, unsettled by his sudden outburst. Maybe hes the boss. He brings us sweets and cake. And She hesitates, wondering whether to reveal that Mum has been sending him flowers, too.
James folds his hands on the table, stares at them long, and Emily senses that a major decision is forming in his mind right this minute. She knows, or at least suspects, that men can be slow to decide and that a womanespecially one as dear as she ismust nudge them gently.
The silence stretches, then James finally cracks, letting out a noisy sigh, uncurling his fingers, and lifting his head. If Emily were a bit older she might have caught the Shakespearean tone of his words, but she knows neither Othello nor Desdemona. Shes simply learning life by watching people laugh and agonise over petty things.
He says, Come on, love. Its getting late; Ill take you home and have a word with Mum.
Emily doesnt ask what he intends to discuss, but she senses its importance and hurriedly finishes her icecream. Realising that whatever James is about to decide outweighs even the tastiest treat, she flings her spoon onto the table, slides off her chair, wipes the sticky icecream from her lips with the back of her hand, blows her nose, looks straight at James and says, Im ready. Lets go.
They dont walk home; they almost run. James leads, holding Emilys hand tightly, as if she were a flag fluttering from a lance, like a knights banner at a historic battle.
When they burst into the lift lobby, the elevator doors close slowly, taking a neighbour up a floor. James glances, a little bewildered, at Emily. She looks him straight in the eye and asks, So? What now? Who are we waiting for? Were only on the seventh floor.
James scoops Emily up and darts up the stairs. When his mother finally throws open the front door, he launches straight into the confrontation, You cant do that! Which Steve are you talking about? I love you, and we haveEmily
He keeps Emily in his arms, pulls Mum into the hug, and Emily wraps both of them around her neck, closes her eyes, because the adults are now kissing each other.
