Little Darlings Read Online Free PDF Page A

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her with my ugly teeth. I hold it together until we’re sitting all in a row and the lights go down, and then I let my tears spill. I wipe my cheeks quickly with the cuff of my smock. Ace is still grizzling too, thrashing about on Mum’s lap.
    â€˜Can’t you shut him up?’ Dad hisses. ‘I
told
you he was too little.’
    â€˜He wants to see his daddy in the movie, don’t you, Ace, darling?’ says Mum. ‘He’ll hush in a minute.’
    She tries giving him his dummy in the dark, but he keeps fidgeting with it, making silly slurpy noises.
    â€˜Look, I’ll get some girl to look after him,’ says Dad.
    â€˜You try to quieten him, Sunset,’ says Mum, quickly plonking him on my lap.
    I take hold of him firmly by the arms, not histummy – he can’t stand that. ‘I’m Mummy Tigerman and we’re all cosy in our lair and we have to stay still as still or the bad men will come and get us,’ I whisper in his ear.
    I put my chin on his silky head and rub it backwards and forwards, and after a minute or so I feel him go floppy. He wriggles his bony little bottom further up my lap and lolls his head, silently suck-suck-sucking his dummy.
    Sweetie is secretly sucking her thumb too, cuddling up to Mum, stroking the soft satin material of her skirt. Mum nestles close to Dad, while he sits wide-legged, slightly slumped, his arms over the backs of the seats on either side.
    I wonder if the girl with the big mouth is sitting nearby. It feels as if she’s squeezed up right next to me, whispering in my ear.
Watch out
, she’s saying.
You sit there playing Happy Families, but I can get you.
    But slowly slowly I start to get involved in the film. I like Milky Star too, especially little Davie the drummer, the goofy youngest one. The other three are all ultra-cool, but little Davie always oversleeps, he’s always the last to get a joke – he
is
the joke half the time as we watch him falling down the stairs and slipping on a banana skin. The other boys are pursued by girls – in fact one ofthe girls is Big Mouth, blowing kisses all over the place – but no one ever blows a kiss to little Davie.
    Another film starts spooling in my head simultaneously, a film where I’m six or seven years older and Davie bumps into me in the street and we both laugh and apologize and then we go for a cup of coffee, and by the end of the evening we’re girlfriend and boyfriend and Davie lets me play on his drums and I’m so good at it I get to be part of the band too, and Davie and I drum away together for the rest of our lives . . .
    Then the audience laughs and I blink at the real Davie on the screen – and then see Dad. There he is, strutting down a Soho street, his hair tousled under his bandanna, his long black leather coat flapping, and round the corner all four Milky Star boys see him, then gasp and gibber and clutch each other. They get right down on their knees, crying, ‘Oh, Danny, we’re not worthy,’ while Dad puts his boot up on their backs and stands proudly, arms raised, as if he is a lion tamer and they are four unruly cubs.
    There’s a great whoop of laughter in the cinema, and Dad throws his head back and laughs too. He sits up straight now, suddenly bigger, and his laugh is the fattest, funniest laugh of all. Mum laughs along with him, and Sweetie giggles,jumping up and down in her seat. Even Ace wakes up a little and speaks through his dummy.
    â€˜Ook at Dad! Ook at Dad!’ he mumbles.
    Well, I’m looking. I watch the film-Dad carefully as he struts down the street, waving one careless hand to the four Milky Stars. I see little old ladies in the street shriek at him and totter along behind, dragging their shopping trolleys, stumbling in their Dr Scholl’s. They’re playing
Always and For Ever
in the background, but it’s slightly distorted and off-key – and when they get to