Dad, I dont want you coming round anymore! Every time you leave, Mum starts crying. And she cries right through until morning.
I go to sleep, wake up, fall asleep again, and every time I look, shes still crying. I ask her, Mum, are you crying because of Dad?
She tells me shes not crying, just sniffling because shes got a cold. But Im grown up now, I know theres no sort of cold that comes with tears in your voice.
Amelias father sits with her at a little café table, stirring a spoon absentmindedly in his now cold espresso.
Amelia hasnt touched the ice cream in front of hera tower of colourful scoops, crowned with a sprig of mint and a cherry, all drizzled in chocolate.
Any six-year-old girl would be delighted with such a treat. But not Amelia. Shed made up her mind last Friday, she thinks, that today she needs to have a serious talk with Dad.
Her father sits in silence for a long time. Eventually, he asks, So what do you think we should do, love? Should we stop seeing each other completely? I dont know how Id manage without you
Amelia wrinkles her nosewhich is just like her mums, a little buttonand thinks for a moment before replying, No, Dad. I couldnt do without you either. Ive got an idea. Call Mum and say from now on youll pick me up from school every Friday.
Well go for walks together, you know, and if you fancy a coffee or I want an ice cream, we can sit down here and chat. Ill tell you all about how things are at home with Mum.
She pauses again, deeply considering, before she adds, If you want to see Mum, Ill take photos of her on my phone every week and show you. How about that?
Her father doesnt look at his clever little daughter, but she notices a small smile and a nod.
Alright, love, he says, lets do that from now on.
Amelia breathes a sigh of relief, finally dipping her spoon into the ice cream. Shes not finished thoughshe still needs to say the most important thing. With colourful chocolate whiskers smeared beneath her nose, she licks them away, looks thoughtful, and puts on her grown-up face.
Almost grown up, she thinks. Like a woman whos got to take care of her maneven if he’s not that young any more: It was Dads birthday last week. She made a card for him at school with a big neat 28 coloured in.
Her little face becomes serious as she frowns. You should get married, Dad
And then, generously fibbing, she adds, Youre not very old yet
Dad grins at her sweet little goodwill gesture. Not very old, you say?
Amelia beams, Not very! Look at Uncle George, hes been to see Mum twice already, and hes a bit baldjust here She pats the top of her head, smoothing down her curls. Then, as Dad sits up straight and gives her a sharp look, she realises shes let slip Mums secret.
Both hands fly to her mouth, her eyes round in horror.
Uncle George? Whos this Uncle George turning up all the time? Is he Mums boss? Dads voice carries over the clink of teacups in the café.
I dont know, Dad Amelia stammers, startled by his sudden reaction. Maybe he is. He brings me sweets. And cake for all of us.
And, Amelia hesitates, weighing up whether to share more family secrets with Dadespecially since hes being a bit oddhe brings Mum flowers sometimes.
Dad stares at his own hands, fingers intertwined on the tabletop. Amelia sees hes making an important decision, right now.
So she waits. She knows that menespecially grown-upssometimes need gently pushing toward the right choice. Who better to give that nudge than a little girl, one of the most precious people in his life?
Dad sits in quiet concentration, then finally sighs and lifts his head. If Amelia was just a bit older, shed have recognised the weight in his voice, like Othello asking his tragic question of Desdemona.
But shes not read that story yet. Shes still learning, watching grown-ups rejoice or fret over all sorts of little things.
And so Dad says, Come on, love. Its getting late. Lets get you homeand I need to have a word with Mum.
Amelia doesnt ask what Dad needs to talk about. She just knows its important, so she polishes off her ice cream double-quick.
She realises, as she tosses her spoon down, slips off her chair, and wipes her sticky lips, that what Dads about to do is much more important than any dessert. She sniffs, looks Dad square in the eye and says:
Im ready. Lets go.
They dont walk home, they practically sprint. Truthfully, Dad is running, but holding Amelias hand so tightly shes almost sailing behind him, like a flag in the wind.
They dash up the steps to their block just as the lift doors close on someone from upstairs. Dad looks a bit bewildered at Amelia.
She looks up at him and asks, Well? Why are we waiting? Seventh floor isnt far
Dad scoops her up and bounds up the stairs.
When Mum finally opens the door, after Dads frantic buzzer pressing, he starts right off with the most important thing:
You cant do this! Whos this George? I love you, you know. And we have Amelia
With Amelia still in his arms, he wraps Mum into a big hug. And Amelia hugs them both round the neck and shuts her eyes, because now the grown-ups are kissing
Sometimes thats just how it goesthe two grown-ups cant stop fussing and hurting each other until a little girl brings them back together, simply because she loves them both, and they love her, and, deep down, each other. But pride and old wounds get in the way
What do you think? Share your thoughts in the comments and hit like if this touched you.
