Little Darlings Read Free Page B

velvet jacket over the top, studded with all her badges and brooches, black and purple striped tights and little black pointy boots. She coordinated her outfit herself, even though she’s only five. Sweetie has known how to be a celebrity child ever since she could toddle.
    Ace is still at the toddling stage and doesn’t givea fig about celebrity. He was supposed to wear a miniature version of Dad’s outfit, but he screamed and kicked and said he didn’t want to wear those silly clothes. He would only wear his Tigerman outfit or he would bite. So he’s in his Tigerman costume – black and gold stripes with a long tail, and Mum has painted tiger stripes and whiskers on his face.
    Everyone goes ‘
Ahhh
’, and coos at him. Ace roars and they pretend to be scared. It’s the simplest of routines, but Ace is happy to play Tigerman all day long and well into the night.
    He’s not so sure about all the flashing lights of the photographers. He blinks and ducks his head and grabs Mum’s hand. She lifts him up and gives him a cuddle as he nuzzles into her neck, and he manages a little grin.
    But not me. I can’t smile. I’m not allowed to.
    â€˜Remember, you mustn’t show your teeth – you’ll spoil the photo,’ Mum hissed as the Mercedes drew up at the start of the red carpet.
    I have a gap in the front and snaggle teeth at the sides. Mum says I have to have extractions and braces but I am
scared of the pain
– and anyway, the orthodontist says we should wait several years. I’d like to wait a century or two. And anyway, I know I’ll spoil every family photo evenwhen my teeth are fixed. I’m not little and blonde and cute like Sweetie and Ace. They take after Mum. I take after Dad. I am dark and I have a wild mane of hair and big nose. They look fine on him but they look awful on me.
    My clothes don’t look right either. Mum picked everything out for me as she doesn’t trust me to choose my outfit myself. I can’t tell which top goes with which bottom (and I don’t
care
anyway), and the only kind of shoes I like are comfy ones. I wouldn’t mind a pair of sparkly baseball boots just like Dad’s, but Mum says I’d look too much of a tomboy. I’ve got these dinky scarlet boots with really high heels. Sweetie adores them and can’t wait to be big enough to wear them herself – but even Mum says five is too young to wear high heels.
    I am wearing weird itchy black leatherette leggings that stick to me all over, and a blue velvet smock top. I hate the
feel
of velvet, especially because I bite my nails. Every time the little raw edges of my fingers touch the velvet it makes me shiver.
    So no, I can’t smile, please. Mum won’t let me – and to be honest I don’t
feel
like smiling. I hate red carpet stuff. This is the film premiere of
Milky Star
, a funny film about a young boy band, and my dad has a cameo role as a wild rock star. Well, he isa wild rock star, though he hasn’t had a hit for a long time, and he hasn’t done a proper show for years. I mustn’t ever ever ever mention this, though.
    However, Dad’s still mega-popular – the crowd on either side of the red carpet are yelling his name.
    â€˜Danny! Hey, Big Danny!’
    â€˜I love you, Danny.’
    â€˜Sign my autograph book, Danny,
please
!’
    â€˜I’m your number-one fan, always and for ever.’
    Always and For Ever
is the title of Dad’s number-one hit. It’s the song that everyone knows. It was in the charts for weeks, and it’s a Golden Oldie request on all the radio shows, and last year it was the theme tune of a romantic comedy series on television. It’s the song that people always scream for at concerts. Some of the crowd are singing it now, arms in the air and swaying. They’re nearly all women, mostly older than Mum. Some of them could even be grannies, but they’re