Little Darlings (6 page)

‘We can't just knock on his door!'

‘It's not against the law, especially when you just happen to be Danny's daughter.'

‘Anyway,
which
door? Do you know his whole address?'

‘Not exactly, but Robin Hill's just this weeny little posh estate. There aren't many houses there, that's the whole point. They're all great big houses with huge gardens, swimming pools, stables, anything you fancy. Oh, Destiny, imagine getting up and going for a swim in your own pool and then having a ride on your own pony! Wouldn't you just love that?'

‘Yes, but—'

‘We'll find Danny's house, easy-peasy. We'll show him we're not just silly fans shouting our heads off. Oh, I could
slap
myself for yelling at him. How he must hate it. But I won't let you down this time, Destiny, honest to God. I'll be dead quiet and dignified, and he'll just need to take a proper look at you and he'll be bowled over. Oh, Danny's such a lovely man. He'll make us welcome, you'll see.'

I don't see at all. She's making it all up again, she can't seem to help it. I can't figure out a way to stop her. At least she's not angry now, she's not shouting. Her whole face is lit up. She looks like those people on
Songs of Praise
, devout and inspired, singing Danny's praises instead of God's.

We leave the station and Mum moves straight to the side of the road and holds up her hand like a lollipop lady. None of the cars take a blind bit of notice of her. No one even slows down.

‘Come on, Destiny, you put your hand up too.'

We stand with our arms up until we get pins and needles, but we don't get anywhere. Then a man in a white van stops and Mum gives a shout of triumph and runs up to his window – but by the time I've run up too he's driven off and Mum's left on the pavement, her face red.

‘What's happened, Mum?'

‘He was a nasty man, dead crude. We wouldn't want a ride with
him
. Don't worry, we'll get a proper lift in no time.'

No time, no time. We seem to have stepped right into no time. Endless hours go by, and yet it's only minutes on Mum's watch. I've never been up this late in my life. I'm so tired. My eyes smart and I ache everywhere and all I want to do is lie down. I'd curl up on the mucky pavement given half a chance. My head feels way too big for my body, like it's going to snap straight off my neck any minute and roll along the gutter like a bowling ball.

A car draws up but it's full of young drunk men, and this time Mum doesn't even bother to ask if they're going anywhere near Robin Hill. They start yelling at us, making horrible suggestions. Mum holds my hand tight, our palms sweating. Then a taxi draws up, and thank heavens the car of drunks drives off.

‘Are you OK, girls? Giving you grief, were they?' the taxi driver asks. ‘Good job I saw you waving.'

‘Oh, sorry. I wasn't hailing you. I was just trying to hitch a lift,' Mum says, still clutching my hand. I can feel her trembling.

‘Are you crazy? You don't want to do that, especially not with the little girl.'

‘I know, I know, but we've run out of money and I have to get us to Robin Hill,' says Mum.

‘Robin Hill?' He blows through his lips doubtfully. ‘You live in Robin Hill?'

‘We're visiting someone there.' Mum pauses. ‘Family.'

‘Can't they send a car for you if they live in Poshville?' says the cabbie.

‘It's a surprise visit,' says Mum.

He's looking at her like she's making it all up. She is making it up and I can't stop her any more. I'd give the whole world for us to be curled up in bed in our own little house. I screw my face up to stop myself crying. The taxi driver's looking at me.

‘You all right, kid?' he asks.

‘Yes, fine,' I mumble, because I don't want to let Mum down.

‘Look, tell you what, I'm about ready to pack it in for the night. I live in Putney. That's more than
halfway to Robin Hill. Hop in the cab and I'll take you as far as Putney High Street, OK?'

‘Oh, you're an
angel
. Thank you so, so much,' says Mum, and she bundles me into the back of the cab and jumps in after me before he can change his mind.

‘Yeah, that's right – see that shining plate above my bald bonce? That's my halo,' says the cabbie. ‘So where are you girls from, then?'

‘Wythenlathen. It's near Manchester,' says Mum. ‘We've got our own house.' She always says it so proudly.

‘You got a husband at home?'

‘No, it's just Destiny and me,' says Mum, putting her arm round me.

‘Destiny! That's an unusual name.'

‘She's called after a Danny Kilman song.'

‘I know it well. I've always liked Danny. You a big fan, then?' he asks.

‘Oh yes, we're his number-one fans,' says Mum. She winks at me. ‘I know him.'

I give her a nudge, not wanting her to say any more.

‘Nice bloke, is he? A bit wild, I suppose, but that goes with the territory.'

‘He was really lovely to me,' Mum says.

I look at her anxiously. He wasn't lovely at all,
he totally ignored her. I get that panicky feeling like when you have a bad dream and wake up in the middle of the night with your heart pounding and you don't know what's real and what's not.

The cabbie chatters on, talking about seeing Danny on telly, the famous interview when he got fed up with the silly questions halfway through and went lurching off, saying stuff that had to be beeped out. We've got a tape of it and we've played it so often we're both word-perfect for the full twenty-three minutes, and when we get to the end we always chant along with Danny:
Oh beep off, you silly beeping beeper
, and then roar with laughter.

Mum and the taxi driver are laughing now but I don't want to join in. I don't want to think about what's going to happen if we ever get to Robin Hill. It's all much too scary, so I lean against Mum and shut my eyes and sing a Danny song in my head to blot out their voices.

‘Ah, has she nodded off?' says the taxi driver.

‘She's had a very exciting day, bless her,' says Mum, patting my shoulder.

‘You seem very close, you two.'

‘Oh yes, we're all in all to each other, Destiny and me,' says Mum.

‘Watch out when she gets to be a teenager. I used
to be real close to my daughter, and she thought the world of her old dad, she did – though, mind you, she could always twist me round her little finger. But
now
– oh, Lord help me, you ask her to do the simplest thing and she stamps around and sighs, and she's like,
Oh, Dad, you're so stupid
. If I'd talked to my old man like that I'd have got a slap round the earhole, but kids today, they're as lippy as anything, and there's nothing you can do.'

‘Oh, I expect my time will come, but just now my girl's a total darling. I don't know what I'd do without her – or what she'd do without me.' Mum's voice goes shaky, and I yawn and snuggle down with my head on her lap, trying to distract her, worried she's going to start crying all over again.

I'm glad we haven't had much to eat because I'm starting to feel sick all hunched up like this, and it would be awful if I threw up in the guy's cab when he's been so kind to us.

It takes such a long time to get to Putney. I really do doze off and dream of a great high fairground roller-coaster. Mum and I are crouched in a car, swooping up and down, screaming our heads off. Way ahead of us we see Danny and his family. They're almost at the end of their ride. If they get off before us, we'll lose them for ever. Mum decides we'll have to jump for it, jump all the way down.
She keeps telling me it'll be fine, taking hold of me, shaking me, but I can't jump, it's too high and scary, so I'm stuck going round and round on the ride for ever—

‘Destiny! Come on, sweetheart, wake up!' says Mum.

I'm back in the taxi and it's stopped moving. We're suddenly still.

‘Did we crash?' I mumble.

‘No, silly, we've just got to Putney. We have to get out now,' says Mum. ‘Thank you
so
much for the lift. Here, I've only got a couple of quid – I know it's peanuts, but take them anyway as a kind of tip.'

‘No, you hang onto what you've got, love. I hope you get to Robin Hill OK. I'd take you there myself but I'm bushed. I need to go and kip down, snuggle up with the missus. You going to be all right now, you and the kid?'

‘We're going to be just fine – and thank you so much,' says Mum. ‘Say thank you, Destiny.'

I thank him obediently. Mum leans over and gives him a kiss, but I don't go that far. She waves goodbye to him until the taxi is a little black dot and disappears.

‘What a lovely guy,' says Mum. ‘See, Destiny, there are still some genuinely gold-star people in
this world. Imagine, a cabbie giving us that great long ride for nothing. Now all we have to do is hitch another lift . . .'

We walk along Putney High Street until Mum selects a suitable spot where the shop lights make us clearly visible. There are any number of cars still swooping past even though it's so late – no, so
early
now – but they whizz past in an instant. Then another taxi stops and Mum gives a little excited whoop, but this time the cab driver shakes his head at her when she says we have no money.

‘Do me a favour, I've got a living to earn,' he says, and drives off.

So we're back to hitching again, and now I'm so tired I can hardly stand upright. Mum sits me down in a shop doorway and stands by herself on the edge of the kerb, waving her arms about. Cars stop every now and then, but either they think Mum's on her own and drive off when she calls to me, or they've never heard of Robin Hill.

‘Maybe we'd be better off walking?' Mum suggests, sighing – but then a lorry stops.

‘Where are you going to, darling?'

‘Robin Hill.'

‘Oh yeah? OK, hop in.'

‘I've got my daughter.'

‘She can hop in too.'

‘You're actually going to Robin Hill?'

‘I'm going to Kingtown. That's just past it, so I'll shove you out on my way, if that's OK.'

‘Oh, it's more than OK, it's absolutely wonderful!' says Mum.

She takes hold of my hand and we clamber up into the cab. The lorry driver shakes us both by the hand.

‘Hi, girls,' he says. ‘I'm Ginger, for obvious reasons.'

He's got bright red curly hair and a cheery freckled face. He doesn't look like a madman who will axe us both to death, but I'm still wary, though Mum's grinning at him like he's her best friend.

‘Well, nice to meet you, girls,' says Ginger. ‘So how come you're out and about at this mad hour? Partying all night, eh?' He pauses. ‘Oh dear, not doing a runner from the old man?'

‘I haven't
got
an old man – and I don't want one either,' says Mum. ‘It's kind of complicated, Ginger. We're going to be like surprise guests.'

‘I see,' says Ginger, though he clearly doesn't. ‘Oh well, it's great to have a little company in the cab. Someone to chat to. When I'm working nights I tend to get a bit dozy round about this time – don't worry, don't worry, I'm not about to nod
off . . .' He lowers his head for a split second and gives a snorty snore and then bellows with laughter. ‘Your faces! No, don't worry, girls, you're safe with me.'

We are safe too, all the way down the dual carriageway. Then he slows down and stops in a hotel car park.

‘Here we are. Told you I'd get you here safe and sound,' says Ginger.

Mum and I sit up straight, rubbing our eyes. I think we both dozed off. Mum's ponytail has collapsed altogether and the make-up's smeared round her eyes, but she still smiles radiantly.

‘We're here, at Robin Hill?' she says.

‘Yeah, just down that lane.'

‘Then you're a gold-star darling, Ginger,' says Mum, and she kisses him on the cheek.

I mumble thank you and hope I won't have to kiss him too. We jump down from the lorry cab and Ginger blows kisses to us as he drives off, his snub nose wrinkling.

‘Doesn't he look like a pig when he does that!'

‘That's a horrid thing to say, Destiny,' says Mum, but she giggles. ‘He didn't
act
like a pig though, did he? He was a total sweetheart –
and
the taxi driver too. We've been so lucky.'

Mum's still smiling, though she's wrapping her
arms tight round herself and stamping her legs, shivering.

‘What are we going to do now then, Mum?' I say in a tiny voice.

She looks at me reproachfully. ‘For a bright girl you can be very slow on the uptake, Destiny! We're going to find Danny's house.'

I look longingly at the hotel. I think of a hot bath, a clean bed with white sheets . . . Mum's looking too. She fiddles with her tangled hair.

‘It would be lovely to have a bit of a wash and brush-up first,' she says. She takes my hand. ‘OK, let's give it a go.'

She walks towards the entrance of the hotel. I try to pull her back.

‘Mum! We can't! We haven't got any
money
!'

‘We can always do a runner in the morning,' says Mum.

My heart starts thumping. Is she
serious
? She marches through the glass door into the hotel lobby. She's serious all right.

There's no one in the hotel lobby. No one at the reception desk. No one. Mum peers around. She looks at the soft purple sofa right in front of us.

‘Well, we can always have a kip on that,' she says. ‘Go on, lie down, darling. You look all in.'

I stand there, swaying on my feet, and then
move unsteadily towards the sofa. I touch it cautiously, like it might be alive – and then I sit on the edge. It feels so good I can't help leaning back – and then I lie down properly and put my feet up.