‘Oh, why did I ever think I wanted to be a wretched nanny?’ says Claudia, nearly in tears.
She tries to set the stand to rights, while I yank Ace up out of the way and tell him that it’s getting-up time now, and pour Tigerman and his pet a pretend glass of Tiger juice for breakfast.
We get out of the shop at last, Sweetie bedecked in all her new finery. Ace wants real juice now, so we go to a café and have a healthy juice each, and then several deliciously unhealthy doughnuts. We have to go to the ladies’ on the top floor to wipe all the sugar off Ace’s mouth (and his Tiger bear’s paws). There’s a toyshop nearby and so we have to spend a long time in there too. I start to worry that Claudia’s forgotten about my notebook, but after we’ve found a tiny toy bus for Ace and a little pocket doll for Sweetie, Claudia nods at me.
‘Right, Sunset. Now we’re going to Paperchase.’
I love Paperchase with all its brightly coloured stationery. I want to spend hours gently stroking each notebook in turn, carefully flipping through the pristine pages, happily deliberating, but Ace and Sweetie are bored now and I have to pick my notebook in double-quick time. I choose a little blue velvety one with blank pages so I can draw little pictures to illustrate my songs. When Claudia buys it for me I can’t quite manage to give her a hug and a kiss because I’m too shy, but I squeeze her hand very tightly to show her how happy I am.
‘There now!’ she says cheerfully.
‘Can we go home for my party now?’ Sweetie asks.
Claudia looks at her watch. ‘No, darling, not quite yet,’ she says. ‘Shall we go for a nice walk along the river?’
‘Yes, Tigerboy and I want to go swimming!’ says Ace.
Claudia changes tack quickly, realizing this is not a good idea at all. ‘No, I know, let’s find a playground,’ she says.
This idea takes us all by surprise. I know what a playground is, of course – children play on the swings in picture books – but I didn’t think they still existed. Sweetie and Ace get really excited.
‘A playground, a playground!’ says Sweetie. ‘I want to go to the Fairy Palace!’
‘No, I want to go on Space Mountain. I know I’m big enough,’ says Ace.
‘No, no, it’s not like Disneyland,’ I say quickly.
It’s not remotely like Disneyland. When Claudia eventually finds us a playground, it’s small and grey and dismal, with little tyre swings and a tame short slide and a tiny roundabout. A little gaggle of kids about my age wearing hoodies and tracksuits are lolling on the roundabout or draped, tummy-down, on the swings. They peer over at us, particularly Sweetie in her tiara and feather boa.
‘There isn’t any fairy palace!’ Sweetie says, pouting. ‘This isn’t a pretty place at all.’
The kids splutter with laughter.
‘Tigerboy and I want to go on a tyre, but they’re there,’ says Ace. ‘So we shall roar at them and frighten them away, won’t we?’ He gives a very timid roar, more of a mouse-squeak.
They laugh louder. ‘Who are these nutters?’ one says.
‘Maybe we’d better try and find another playground,’ says Claudia, trying to take Sweetie and Ace by the hand. Ace pulls away.
‘Want to go on the tyre,’ he says desperately.
‘Well . . . perhaps one little go,’ says Claudia. ‘You look after Sweetie, Sunset.’
‘Sweetie! Sunset! What bonkers names!’
Sweetie nestles close to me, bewildered. She’s so used to everyone making a fuss of her. She’s never really played with ordinary children. None of us have. I’m scared too. I’m especially terrified they’ll notice I’m holding a cardboard box containing a pathetic panda. I shall die if they start mocking me.
‘Now now,’ says Claudia, marching up to the children. ‘How about letting this little boy have a go on the swings?’
‘Now now, now now,’ they echo, mocking her posh accent.
I ought to go and stick up for her – but then they’d pick on me. Besides, I have to look after Sweetie.
‘You let me have a swing!’ says Ace bravely. ‘I’m Tigerman and I can bite you.’
‘You’re Tiggernutter, you sad little whatsit,’ says one kid.
He doesn’t actually say whatsit – he uses a very rude word indeed.
‘Stop that swearing! Don’t be so mean, he’s only a little boy,’ says Claudia.
‘Are you their mum then, Posh Knickers?’ says another kid.
‘I’m their nanny,’ Claudia says, and they all hoot.
‘A nanny! A nanny for a bunch of ninnies,’ says one.
‘Let me have a turn on the tyre,’ says Ace. He thinks hard. ‘Please.’ He tries to grab the chain, but they unpick his hands and give him a shove. It’s only a very little shove, but Ace is a very little boy. He lands on his bottom.
His mouth gapes wide in astonishment. He looks like a bewildered baby bird. I can’t bear it.
‘Stay there and don’t move!’ I say to Sweetie, shoving my panda into her arms alongside her Rosie bear.
I run over to Ace, who is now howling. Claudia’s trying to pick him up and carry him off, but he’s struggling.
‘Want to go on the tyre!’ he bellows.
I dither helplessly.
‘Watch out, here’s another nutter. Who does she think she is wearing them daft black mittens?’
I know who I think I am in my new black outfit. I’m dressed like my sister Destiny. So why can’t I try to act like her too?
‘Bog off, you lot, and let him have two minutes’ swing – go on,’ I say fiercely.
‘Who’s going to make us?’ says one girl.
‘I’m going to make you,’ I say, and I seize hold of her swing. ‘Get off or I’ll knock you off!’
‘All right, all right,’ she says, and she jumps off the tyre!
I am so amazed I just stand there, stunned. I didn’t think she’d move for a minute. I thought she’d yell back, maybe even fight me.
‘Here’s the wretched swing,’ she says, and shoves it at me.
It gives me a hard whack in the ribs but I don’t let myself flinch. I grab the tyre. ‘Here, Ace,’ I say triumphantly. ‘Come and have a swing.’
He hurtles forward, still whimpering. I lift him onto the tyre.
‘There now. Hang on tightly,’ I say, and give him a little push.
He squeals triumphantly, while I stand proudly pushing him backwards and forwards. Claudia and Sweetie stand watching, amazed. The hoodie kids are all watching too. One of the other girls edges off her swing.
‘Here, your little sister can have a swing too,’ she says.
‘Do you want a swing, Sweetie?’ I call, but she shakes her head, clinging to Claudia.
‘Why are you called them daft names?’ the girl asks.
‘Because we’ve got daft parents,’ I say. ‘It’s not our fault.’
‘I’ve got a friend called Marley-Joy – that’s almost as bad,’ she says.
‘I’ve got a friend called Destiny,’ I say, ‘but I like that as a name.’
We’re chatting as if we’re almost friends. I give Ace another nine or ten pushes, and then slow him down.
‘Come on, we’ll go on the slide now,’ I say, hauling him off. ‘Thanks for letting him have a swing.’
They nod at me, and I strut back with Ace to Claudia, feeling ten feet tall.
‘We’ll just let Ace have a little slide,’ I say. ‘Do you want a slide too, Sweetie? It’s all right, I’ll look after you.’
I give them both a slide. Ace hurtles down happily. Sweetie is much more timid, worrying that the slide isn’t quite clean and she’ll stain her new pink trousers. I sigh at her. The girl I spoke to sighs too, raising her eyebrows at me. When we go, I wave to her and she waves back.
‘Well!’ says Claudia. ‘Get you, Sunset!’
Yes, get me, get me, get me! I understand why Ace wants to wear his Tigerman suit all the time. I want to wear my Destiny outfit for ever.
I hope Claudia will tell Mum how I cop
ed with all the kids in the playground – but Mum is too busy to listen to any of us. The house is buzzing with people running in and out of the big living room.
‘Can I see my party yet?’ Sweetie begs, but she still has to wait.
‘Not just yet, my pet, we’ve got to get you ready first! What’s with the tacky tiara, Sweetie, and all the other bits? My word, you all look a raggletaggle bunch – but we’ll soon get you sorted, and there’s a stylist who will see to your hair. Come on, upstairs, quick as a wink.’
‘Oh, please, Mummy, just one peep! I want to see my presents.’
‘No, darling, you need to get dressed up for the magazine people first. You want to wear your pretty party frock, don’t you? Come on, all of you, I’ve got everything laid out in my room, and you all need to have a good wash first. Claudia, you come and help. What are these boxes? Did you buy the kids these teddies? Haven’t they got enough already?’
‘They were a gift from the shop people. They recognized the children.’
‘Well, I hope you didn’t let the kids be photographed. They’ll use them as freebie adverts for their bears. Rose-May needs to sanction any commercial endorsements,’ says Mum.
Claudia swallows.
‘We went to a playground too, Mum,’ I say quickly.
‘Yes, there were some nasty children who laughed at me,’ says Sweetie.
‘They didn’t want me to have a swing, Mum, but Sunset made them,’ says Ace.
‘Yes, Sunset was very brave,’ says Claudia.
‘Why on earth did you take them to a playground?’ Mum snaps, whisking Sweetie’s smock off her head. ‘That was asking for trouble. Come on, Sweetie, darling. Oh dear, look at your hair, all over tangles. Never mind, that stylist’s good. He’ll give you princess curls in no time.’
Mum starts unbuttoning Ace. ‘Well, get a move on, Sunset! Get undressed.’
‘But I don’t need to, Mum. I’m not the slightest bit dirty, look – I’m all ready.’
‘Why are you always deliberately awkward, Sunset?’ she hisses. ‘Get those awful cheap jeans off at once – and that top, and those ridiculous mittens.’
I clench my fists. ‘No. These are my favourite clothes,’ I say.
‘You can’t wear them to Sweetie’s party.’
‘But I like them. I feel comfy in them. And it doesn’t matter what I wear. It’s Sweetie’s party, not mine.’
‘You’ll be in most of the photographs. I’m not having you spoil them all wearing that dreadful black outfit. I’ve bought you a new dress. And you, Sweetie, darling.’
‘But Dad bought me my violet dress,’ says Sweetie anxiously.
‘Yes, I know, and you look lovely in it, but I want my little birthday girl to look utterly knockout fantastic, so just you wait and see the dress Mummy’s got for you, angel.’
‘What have you got for me, Mum?’ Ace asks.
‘Oh, I’ve got you a pretty party dress too, little man,’ says Mum, tweaking his nose. ‘A pink party dress.’
Ace squeals and shudders, joining in the joke.
It’s not a joke for me. I can’t believe the dress Mum’s bought for me. It’s an ankle-length frilly floral pink-and-white garment with puff sleeves. It looks even worse on me, long and billowing, but uncomfortably tight across my chest.
‘There! It gives you a bit of a figure,’ says Mum.
‘I can’t wear it, Mum! I look like a shepherdess. Give me a crook and a toy lamb and I’ll look like blooming Bo Peep. Claudia, make Mum see I look awful.’
Claudia is busy helping Ace into some bizarre pageboy outfit, but she cranes her head round his flailing arms and kicking legs to look at me. ‘Oh, Sunset!’ she says sympathetically. ‘I say, Suzy, Sunset will be much happier if she wears her black jeans – you know what girls are like at her age.’
‘It’s not about Sunset being happy, Claudia. It’s Sweetie’s party and we’ve got Hi! Magazine coming, plus twenty-five children and an entertainer and the caterers, and it’s going to be an eight-page feature and everything has to look perfect, so I’ll thank both you and Sunset to shut up and get on with things.’
‘Twenty-five children?’ Claudia says weakly. ‘I’m not expected to look after them all, am I?’
‘Oh, they’ll have their mothers or their own nannies with them,’ says Mum, pulling Sweetie’s frock over her head. Then she stands back, clasping her hands. ‘Oh, Sweetie, you look a picture!’
Sweetie does look truly beautiful. Her dress is long too, white silk, with tiny pink roses embroidered on the bodice, and a froth of pale pink petticoat lace showing at the hem.
‘Oh, Mummy, I really do look like a princess!’ says Sweetie, seeing herself in the mirror.
‘Yes, you do, my little darling. Now, I’ve got you new little silver sandals – see? Slip them on. Then we’ll get your hair sorted.’
‘Can I wear my tiara too?’
‘I think not, angel cake. I’ve got your little posy of real pink rosebuds. We’ll thread a few through your hair. It’ll look beautiful,’ says Mum.
I have to have my hair styled too by this elegant young man in black T-shirt and jeans. It’s so unfair. Why can he wear them and not me? He makes my hair look almost lovely, easing out all the frizz and arranging it in loose waves, but I see him looking at my frilly frock with raised eyebrows and I go hot all over. He even fixes Ace’s hair, making it cutely fluffy, sticking up like a little duckling. He’s especially good with Sweetie. He calls her Birthday Princess and bows to her, then combs out her long gold curls. He fixes little sprays of rosebuds here and there and then gives a little cry of delight.
‘Oh, Birthday Princess, you look utterly gorgeous, so fragrant and flowery and fabulous,’ he says, making funny kissing noises at her.
‘Oh, Sweetie!’ Mum says, her eyes brimming with proud tears. She blinks hard, not wanting to make her mascara streak. ‘Now, darling, I want you to stay still as still and keep looking this gorgeous until Hi! get their cameras set up and all your little friends arrive.’
‘These ‘‘little friends’’,’ Claudia whispers to me. ‘Are they the children of really famous celebrities? Little Madonnas and Beckhams?’
‘No! Not really famous. They’ll be the children of other artists from Dad’s record label, or any other likely children that Rose-May finds at a model agency,’ I say bitterly. ‘Like that awful party I had when I was younger.’
It was so awful I ran away and hid in Wardrobe City – but Sweetie is made of sterner stuff. She smiles sweetly at all the horrible Hi! people and stands at the front door greeting each little guest with a happy hug. Mum insists that I take each child by the hand and lead them into the big living room.
It’s been totally transformed while we were out in Kingtown. It’s been turned into Sweetieland. All the sofas and chairs are draped in white velvet and scattered with big bright cushions in the shape of huge sweets. Rainbow fairy lights hang from the white walls and climb new white curtains. The carpet’s scattered with great white rugs. There are red and yellow and green and purple and orange jars everywhere, full to the brim with sweets. A chocolate fountain bubbles in one corner, and a lemonade waterfall trickles in another. There’s a silver present tree decked out with real sweets and more fairy lights, and there’s an enormous pile of silver parcels all around, wrapped with multicoloured ribbon: Sweetie’s birthday presents. The entertainer’s wearing a black-and-white striped suit and calls himself Mr Humbug. He has two assistant ‘fairies’ in different shades of yellow: Miss Barley Sugar and Miss Lemon Drop.
‘Oh my God, I can’t believe this!’ Claudia whispers to me. ‘It’s so utterly over the top it’s sickening!’
‘The party guests will be sick if they eat all the sweets,’ I say. ‘I don’t think those white rugs are a good idea at all!’
Mum and Dad are sitting together on one of the sofas, all dressed up too. Dad’s wearing a big floppy white satin shirt, black leather trousers and black and silver boots. Mum is in a tightly fitting s
ilver dress with a red lollipop necklace and red patent shoes. They are sitting hand in hand, smiling at each other, especially when the camera flashes. Ace is suddenly acting shy, sitting on Dad’s knee, mumbling about Tigerman. Sweetie is totally composed, skipping backwards and forwards in her silver sandals, her dress whirling to show her pink petticoats. All the newly arrived little girls are gazing at her enviously.
There are two small girls I vaguely recognize, Emerald and Diamond, the daughters of one of the Dollycat Singers, and there’s Jessie and Lucie-Anne, twins belonging to a soap star who’s recently made a record. Mum and Rose-May have worked together to assemble lots of little girls who look right: they’re all small and blonde with flouncy dresses, though none quite as petite and pretty and ultra-flouncy as the birthday princess. They are like a bevy of small bridesmaids, and Sweetie is quite definitely the bride.
They are nearly all here now, so the photographer takes several group photos. Then there are grisly family portraits on the long sofa, Sweetie sitting up very straight between Mum and Dad, smiling serenely, while Ace flops about at their feet. I edge to the furthest corner of the sofa, mouth set in a rigid smile, my lips pressed together so I don’t expose my teeth.
‘Cuddle up to Mum and Dad, darling,’ says the photographer, but I take no notice. Mum doesn’t make me. Perhaps she’s thinking it will be easier to lop me off the photo that way.
Mr Humbug is playing an accordion, singing little-girly songs, and Miss Barley Sugar and Miss Lemon Drop are playing a Tie a Yellow Ribbon game with everyone. Sweetie isn’t concentrating, desperate to open her presents.
The photographer takes lots of shots of her kneeling by the present tree, holding this parcel and that, taking particular notice of the largest presents in their sparkly paper, bedecked with yards of ribbon. One is as tall as Sweetie, the other even taller.
Mum decides we can’t wait any longer for the last guest, and Sweetie is allowed to start feverishly unwrapping. There are dolls and teddies and picture books and jewellery from all the little girls. Margaret and John give her a cake-making set with a little apron. Barkie gives her a big box of chocolates. Rose-May gives her a silver bracelet with dinky charms. Claudia gives her a big box of crayons and a drawing book. Sweetie doesn’t look very interested so I hope I might be able to purloin them. She barely gives my present a second look either – it’s a big book of fairy tales with lots of coloured pictures of palaces and golden-haired princesses. Ace gives her a toy tractor and starts playing with it himself.