Dad, dont come over any more! Every time you leave Mum starts crying and she keeps on crying until morning.
I drift off, wake up, drift off again, and she is still sobbing. I ask her, Mum, why are you crying? Because of Dad?
She says she isnt crying, just sniffling because she has a cold. Im already six and I know a cold never turns a voice into tears.
Dad sits with his daughter at a table in a London café, stirring his coffee with a tiny spoon in a small white cup that has already gone cold.
Emily hasnt even touched the icecream in front of her. On the plate sits a little masterpiece: multicoloured truffles covered with a green leaf and a cherry, all drenched in chocolate.
Any sixyearold would be mesmerised, but not Emily. Last Friday she decided it was time for a serious talk with her dad.
Dad stays silent for a long while, then finally asks, So what are we going to do, love? Stop seeing each other altogether? How will I live then?
Emily crinkles her cute nose, thinks a moment, and replies, No, Dad. I cant be without you either. Lets work this out. Call Mum and tell her youll pick me up from nursery every Friday.
Well go for a walk, and if you want coffee or icecream we can sit in the café. Ill tell you everything about how Mum and I live together.
She pauses, then adds, If you want to see Mum, Ill record her on my phone each week and show you the pictures. Sound good?
Dad smiles, nods, and says, Alright, thats how well live now, dear.
Emily sighs with relief and finally takes her icecream, but the conversation isnt over. The colourful truffles leave little chocolate mustaches on her nose; she licks them off and becomes serious, almost adult.
Shes almost a woman who must look after her husband, even if hes getting on in years Dads birthday was last week. Emily had painted a big 28 on a card at nursery for him.
Her face turns serious, she furrows her brows and says, I think you should get married.
She adds gently, Youre not that old yet
Dad chuckles at the goodwill gesture and replies, You could also say Im not that old
Emily continues enthusiastically, Not that old! Uncle Simon, whos visited Mum twice already, even a bit balding She smooths her soft curls, then realises, after Dads sharp glance, that shes let slip Mums secret.
She presses both hands to her mouth, widens her eyes, showing terror and confusion.
Uncle Simon? Which Simon keeps dropping by? Mums boss? Dad says loudly, almost to the whole café.
I dont know, Dad Maybe hes the boss. He brings me sweets and a cake for us.
Emily debates whether to reveal this hidden information to her dad, especially one who seems a little off, and to her mums flowers.
Dad interlaces his fingers on the table, staring at them for a long time. Emily understands that right now he is making a very important decision in his life.
The young woman waits, not rushing him with conclusions. She already suspects that men are set in their ways and need a nudge from the woman they love most.
Dad remains silent, then finally sighs, lifts his head and says If Emily were a little older she would recognise the tone, like Othello asking Desdemona a tragic question.
But she doesnt know Othello or Desdemona; shes simply gathering life experience, watching people laugh and suffer over small things.
So Dad says, Come on, love. Its late, Ill take you home and then speak to Mum.
Emily doesnt ask what he will discuss, but knows its important and quickly finishes her icecream.
She realises what Dad has decided is far more important than the tastiest icecream, so she nudges her spoon onto the table, slides off the chair, wipes her sticky lips with the back of her hand, sniffs, looks straight at Dad and says, Im ready. Lets go.
They dont walk home, they almost run. More precisely, Dad runs, holding Emilys hand, making her wave like a flag.
When they burst into the lift shaft, the doors close slowly, taking a neighbour upstairs. Dad looks almost bewildered at Emily. Then from below she looks up and asks, So? What are we waiting for? Whos coming? Were only on the seventh floor
Dad scoops Emily onto his shoulders and rushes up the stairs.
When his nervous ringing finally gets Mum to open the door, Dad immediately starts, You cant do that! Which Simon? I love you. We have Emily
He hugs Mum without letting go of Emily, and Emily hugs both around their necks, closing her eyes because the adults are kissing.
Thats how life goes: a little girl comforts two awkward adults who love each other and love her, but cling to pride and grudges.
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