Page 18 of Secrets of Starshine
“You have very pretty hair,” Lilly says, gazing up at me. “I wish mine was that colour and not ginger-nut.”
“Ah, but yours is beautiful – and do you want to know a secret about red hair?”
“I do!” she says, giggling.
“Well, lots of ladies, when they’re grown up, really wish that they had ginger-nut hair. People with boring old brown hair like mine pay lots of money to make it look like yours instead.”
“But why?” she asks, frowning. “Don’t people make fun of them?”
“Oh, no. I work in a hair salon, and copper – that’s what we call it – is one of our most popular colours. So even though you don’t like it now, when you’re older, you will. I promise.”
I see her turning this over in her mind, and eventually she responds: “I think if anyone calls me ginger-nut at school, I’ll tell them I’m not ginger, I’m copper-nut. Dad says I should ignore them anyway, and it doesn’t matter what other people think of me, it’s what I think of myself that matters.”
“He is totally right, lovely. But I know sometimes that’s not always the way we feel, is it? Sometimes things bother us even if we know they don’t matter. But just remember what I said – when you’re older, all the girls will wish they had hair just like yours! Are you all done?”
She nods, and runs ahead of me, back out into the main room. I see her disappear off onto the dance floor, disappearing in a puff of pink. I follow much more slowly, feeling strangely moved by the whole encounter.
I realise that although Archie mentioned falling in love with a local girl, she wasn’t among the people that Connie pointed out to me earlier – and Lilly, during our sweet but strange chat, never once mentioned her mummy. I may be imagining it, but I am starting to suspect that for some reason, she might not have one.
I put a less emotional expression on my face and re-join the party. I remind myself that I have only just met these people, that they have a right to privacy, and I am probably making up some tragic back story where one doesn’t even exist.
When I get back, I see Connie on the dance floor with George, going full on with theTime Warp. George is a little stiffer with the moves, but doing just fine for a man who is probably in his eighties. I laugh out loud when they do the knees-together bit, and go and sit with Archie. He is alone, a pint of ale in front of him on the table.
Now I see him properly in the light, I wonder how I could ever have thought his hair and beard were fake. He has a lot of both, to be fair, far more than you usually see these days. The hair is a deep shade of chestnut brown, wild but clean, down to his shoulders. The beard is full and bushy and comes complete with auburn streaks that suggest where Lilly gets her ginger-nut heritage from. He’s taken his pirate hat off, and smiles when I sit beside him.
“Thanks for that,” he says once I settle. He gestures towards a glass of wine that has been produced for me.
“No problem. You know us girls like to go to the loo in pairs.”
“So I’ve been told. She’s…well, she’s almost eight now, and she’s just too old to sneak into the gents with me. So far, when we’ve been out and about, I go in first to make sure the coast is clear, then go in with them and stand by the door. It’s all a bit awkward, but we get by. Recently, though, she’s refused, and if she refuses, that probably means Meg isn’t far behind.
“I mean, I can’t say that I blame her – much nicer in the ladies’! It’s not been an issue before, but she’s reached an age where she seems to be trying to figure out a few things…her mum isn’t around any more, and so far just Dad’s been good enough. I’m sensing that’s beginning to change, and to be honest, it kind of freaks me out. It only seems like yesterday she was learning how to walk, and now it’s all moving so fast I’m worried about what she’ll ask next…”
I have raised a son alone since he was eight years old, and remember there being a little cross-over with Archie’s experience – I didn’t think he was quite old enough to do certain things, like go to the gents’ on his own, but he wasn’t overly keen on being dragged into the ladies’. We had quite a few scenes outside the loos in John Lewis, I seem to recall – at a time when we were both grieving the loss of his dad, both coming to terms with a new way of life.
There were so many things I always assumed Steve would be there to do with us – take him to football games, talk to him about girls, teach him how to shave. I’d worked on the basis that there would be two of us doing everything I ended up doing alone – not that at least one of the things on that list ever became an issue, and he taught himself how to shave from a YouTube video, so I suppose it all turned out okay in the end. As with so many things in life, though, you don’t know that when you’re struggling with them.
“Oh, I know,” I reply, looking across at Sam, who is sipping another cocktail and now wearing a different tiara. “I mean, look at him – the lanky one in the Debbie Harry top. That’s my baby. He was taller than me by the time he was thirteen, and apparently has over 5,000 followers on TikTok. How did that happen?”
“The TikTok thing?”
“All of it! I love him to bits, I really do, but sometimes I wonder if I even know him at all…we’ve been on our own since he was eight, and it’s hard, I know, doing everything by yourself. Trying to be Mum and Dad. I’m sure Lilly is going to be just fine, because she’s surrounded by love, and because she has the kind of dad who remembers to collect twigs to use on snowmen. That’s pretty much premier league parenting right there, in my opinion.”
He smiles, and raises his glass to me. I oblige him with a quick clink, and we sit and watch the merriment unfold. Lilly is sitting with Connie’s children, Dan and Sophie, and Sam is showing her something on his phone. It’s probably that photo of me with drool on my chin from the other night…last night, in fact. Jeez, a lot has happened since then.
I am suddenly hit by a wave of exhaustion as the stress of the day rolls over me. I sip my wine, and look at the dancing, but know that there is no way on earth I will be joining them.
“How old are you?” Archie asks, out of the blue. I quirk an eyebrow at him and he laughs. “Sorry, that was a bit blunt wasn’t it – I was just wondering if we were ever in the Blue Angel at the same time is all…I’m forty-three.”
“Right. Well, I’m forty-two, so there is indeed every possibility that we graced those hallowed halls on the same night. Danced next to each other toCommon People– or passed each other on those narrow stairs. Weird thought, isn’t it?”
“God, yes, those stairs! Stumbled down those a few times…and yeah, a weird thought. Anyway, I don’t suppose we’ll ever know. I’m glad you made it here though, Cally. Now, I think it’s time I got my two little princesses off to bed…thanks for the company, and I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
As he stands up, Lilly races towards him, grabbing at his legs and demanding a dance. He rolls his eyes, but clearly has no intention of refusing. He scoops her up into his arms, and strides out onto the dance floor as the Weather Girls start singingIt’s Raining Men.
He whirls her around, and I see her screaming in delight, then he puts her down and she stands on his toes and gets walked around in time-honoured tradition. She flies away to her grandad after a few seconds, and Archie is joined by Connie and a small older woman with pixie-cut hair. The three of them dance together, and I can’t help but notice that the man has some moves – all those years in the Blue Angel have clearly not been wasted. He actually moves his hips, and in time to the beat.
As the chorus hits in, he reaches out, lifts Connie up into the air as though she is as light as a feather, and spins her, blonde curls flying, her expression delighted. As soon as that’s done, it’s the other woman’s turn – and I can tell that this isn’t a new thing. That Archie is their go-to man for dance-floor acrobatics. It’s very amusing, watching this large bear of a guy partner up with the ladies – like an impromptu episode ofStrictly, complete with lifts and twirls.
