I didn’t dare lurk in my room. I didn’t want him thudding up the stairs and bursting into my bedroom. If he saw my broken mirror he’d explode. I went downstairs, ducking my head, fiddling with my hair, so scared of what Dad might say to me this time. But he was in one of his determinedly jolly moods. ‘Hello hello hello, here’s my lovely little Beauty!’ he boomed. His face was very red and he smelled of drink. ‘Who’s my pretty girl, eh? You look lovely, darling.’ I felt my face going red too. He was trying to make up for yesterday. It didn’t make me feel better, it just made me go all squirmy inside. Dad patted the top of my head and then chucked me under the chin. ‘My little girl,’ he repeated. ‘I’m not that little, Dad,’ I said. ‘I know, I know, you’re growing up fast. Your birthday’s just around the corner.’ I held my breath. Mum came out into the hall. ‘I’ve fixed it all up,’ said Dad, and he planted a wet kiss on my cheek. ‘Fixed what, Gerry?’ said Mum.
