“But you gotta give me the wothe,” Clo says, cutting off her mother’s—judging by her expression—unpleasant response.
“The what?”
“The wothe,” Clo repeats, her hip jutted and her palm facing the ceiling. She eyes me like she thinks I’m an idiot. My vacant expression probably confirms her suspicions.
“Belle needs awothe, Uncle Matty.”
“Uncle Matty doesn’t have a rose for you, baby. He’s never seen the movie,” Letty says softly, “so he didn’t know to bring one.”
I feel like I’ve been punched in the guts watching Clodagh’s little face fall. She’s already been let down twice today by the men in her life. Once when her father forgot to call, and the other when fuckin’ Seb conveniently forgot their plans.Ah, fuck it.
“Not a problem,” I say, scooping her up again. “We’ll stop at a flower shop on the way.”
After we’ve secured a red rose, Dave, the driver, drops us as near as permitted to the theater. As he pulls away from the curb and the stupid satin sash whips me in the face, I realize I’ve left my coat on the seat.
Fucking thing,I think as I tuck the shiny piece of shit one-handed into the belt. At least it isn’t raining, or snowing, I decide as I take Clodagh’s hand.I’m not sure I would’ve gotten my coat on anyway, not with the size of these feckin’ shoulder pads and epaulets.
The Palladium is in the West End, the London theater district, and is currently buzzing with theatergoers. But as far as I cansee, we’re the only ones dressed for the occasion. And drawing a few funny looks. Some indulgent ones, mostly from the female population. The blokes, however, seem to silently agreeRather him than me.
“Come on, slowpoke,” I say, tugging on her little hand. Apart from feeling a bit of a tit, I’m feckin’ freezing! “Pirate code says stragglers will be left behind.”
“We aren’t pirates!” she answers with a giggle.
“Course we are. Captain Prince Charming and First Mate Belle.”
Clodagh’s expression turns immediately pensive.
“You okay?” I ask, slowing my pace.
“Just thinking.”
“Anything I can help you with?” I know Letty’s doing tough with the divorce, but with Clodagh, it’s harder to tell how she’s feeling. She seems to have adapted well to her new school and country, but she barely mentions her dad. Not that he’d be winning any prizes in the father stakes.
“I’m just thinking maybe next time you can be Gaston.”
“Gaston?” I say instead ofNext time?They’ve been staying with me up until recently, but this is the first outing alone for me and Clo. Frankly, the responsibility is terrifying.
“You look like Gaston,” she says, nodding her little blond head. “Not handsomest prince.”
“Oh, really?”Cheeky little shite.
“But you got the same color hair as Gaston. And a butt chin like him.”
I give a hearty chuckle. “So what I’m hearing is this Gaston fella is good looking.”Out of the mouths of babes.
“And he’s good at spitting. Plus, he’s hairy, same as you.”
“He sounds ... grand.” We reach the line of theatergoers queuing for general admission. If I thought I’d be here, I might’vemade some other arrangements.A box or something,I think, eyeing the group of kids a little way in front of us. I don’t know kids. I also don’t want to know kids. Or sit in among them.
“He isn’t grand, Uncle Matty. He’s a handsome, empty-headed jerk. He doesn’t love Belle. He just thinks she’s the prettiest girl in town, and because he has a very high ’pinion of himself, he thinks she should be married to him. He just wants to own her. That’s what Mommy says. But Beast, he has a good heart.”
There is so much to digest in her little speech.
“Well, that’s what you want, isn’t it? Someone with a good heart.” Though I think it might be a bit early to be talking about men and love. Clodagh is still only five years old.
“You’re not like Gaston, Uncle Matty. You say things that make Mommy laugh when Daddy says things that make her cry.”
“Mommy cries?” I thought she was done with all that.
