Bad Little Girl(54)

After that, she decided that darkening her hair might be a good idea; ‘It looks darker, now it’s short, but it needs to be really, really darker. Like George’s.’ And so she made Claire buy dark brown hair dye. ‘It’s a pity I can’t change my eye colour. You can’t, can you? No? What if I made it curly, my hair I mean? And we need a TV. One with all the channels. Even the nature ones.’ Lorna brushed sharp splinters of hair from her face. ‘It’ll help with the teaching, like I said.’

Lorna was full of purpose, and she wanted to come in with Claire to supervise the shopping, but Claire managed to persuade her to stay in the car. ‘They have cameras in big supermarkets, Lorna.’ Claire spent a fortune on clothes and treats to make it up to her. On the way home, Lorna nestled in the back seat of the car, amongst her gifts. Claire could see her admiring her new hair in the mirror, fingering her new trainers, spotless in the box. Her bright, pebble eyes gazed appreciatively at the sea, and she smiled with her tongue slightly protruding. It did Claire’s heart good to see her so happy, and she smiled at her in the rear-view mirror.

‘You look like a very pretty little boy with that haircut, Lorna!’

‘I think I’m too pretty to be a boy really – don’t you?’

‘Yes, I think so.’

‘So, I think that I can’t really pretend to be a boy, like George. So I’ll have to have another name.’

It was a good idea. A very sensible idea, when you thought about it. Then why did Claire feel so unsettled? ‘Another name?’

The girl nodded pertly. ‘I mean, I have to, really, don’t I? I can’t be Lorna if I’m with you. I mean people might find out and link us together. So I’ve been thinking – how about Lauren?’

‘Lauren?’

‘The new girl in EastEnders is called Lauren, and it’s nice. It suits me. Lauren.’ She swirled the name around her mouth, as if she was tasting it. ‘Lauren Penny? No, no, you should be my auntie, maybe. But then I could still be Lauren Penny, couldn’t I? You don’t look happy though.’

Claire tried to smile reassuringly. ‘I’m just a little taken aback. By how grown-up you’re being. You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?’

‘Yes.’ The girl’s eyes filmed over suddenly, and she looked down and bit her lip. ‘It’s all I’ve thought about since I was a Christmas Cracker.’





21





The TV took up one wall of the small sitting room, a black monolith primed for worship. The impossibly thin screen seemed to teeter down from the wall bracket, and it loomed and shouted all day. Lorna ran through all the channels, again and again, though she sped past the news channels as quickly as she could. Claire could guess why, but they’d have to watch the news at some point, just to see if Lorna had been reported as missing, if it was a big news story or not. It would be best if Claire looked alone though. She didn’t want to upset the girl.

Lorna was watching MTV videos and dancing. Claire peered round the kitchen door, an indulgent smile already on her lips, quickly fading.

On the screen, a gummy, emaciated woman in a bikini gurned and shook her behind at a shocked-looking bloodhound. Every now and again, the bloodhound’s eyes goggled cartoonishly as the woman bumped her rump against its nose. Lorna, only in her pants, was singing along tunelessly, aping the women’s movements. Her hips swung up, down and around, up, down and around. ‘Gimme gimme gimme what I a-ask forrrr,’ she sang. ‘Gimme gimme gimme all your pa-ha-shon.’ Her brow creased in concentration even as she twisted her mouth into a grimace of ecstasy. ‘Gimme, oh oh, gimme oh oh!’

Claire strode in the room, pale. Lorna stopped mid-grind, her eyes glassy, the trying-to-be-sexy smirk still on her face. Claire’s hands shook as she plucked the remote from the coffee table and turned off the TV.

‘That’s quite enough, Lorna,’ she managed.

‘Whu?’ The girl’s face was slack, uncomprehending.

‘It’s not . . . appropriate. That kind of dancing.’

‘What?’

‘That kind of dancing. All the wiggling about. It’s meant for older girls, women. Not little girls.’

‘I like dancing though!’

‘But, dancing like that. It’s just not—’

‘Not what?’ Lorna sank to the floor and pounded the carpet with her fists. ‘What?’

‘There’s no use having a tantrum about it!’ Claire hunkered down on her heels, looked into her furious little face. Lorna mouthed something.

‘What was that? Lorna?’

‘What was that? What was that?’ the girl mimicked softly.

Claire, taken aback, managed to maintain her teacher sternness. ‘And there’s no need to be cheeky either. I think, maybe, we’ll have to ration the TV—’

Lorna began to cry. Her fists opened and closed on the carpet, kneading it compulsively. A low moan escaped her, like an animal in pain.

‘Lorna, please. I’m not scolding you – I mean, this is probably my fault. For not looking at all the channels I mean.’ The girl looked up at Claire. She tried to smile. Oh it was heart-breaking! ‘Darling, please, I’m just thinking of you and what’s good for you, please.’ Lorna was putting her jeans back on now, choking back tears. Claire touched her arm, and said softly, ‘I didn’t mean to frighten you. I really didn’t. I was just a bit shocked – that kind of dancing. I mean, you’re so little still, and there’s plenty of time to grow up, and dance, well, however you want, but—’ Lorna had said something, something difficult to understand amongst the sobs. ‘What’s that, darling?’