Daddy’s Little Princess and Will You Love Me 2-in-1 Collection. Cathy Glass

I want to stay and talk to Beth,’ Jenni moaned.

      I kept my head down and concentrated on Paula’s zipper.

      ‘Do as you’re told,’ Jenni’s mother said firmly, and taking her daughter by the hand she led her away.

      I straightened and watched her cross the playground to stand with another mother and her child. She immediately began talking animatedly to the other woman, gesticulating with her hands. I could tell from her body language she was annoyed and I could easily guess with whom. Shortly, both women looked over at me and I knew I was the subject of playground gossip just as Derek had been.

      The klaxon sounded for the start of school and I said goodbye to Adrian and Beth. ‘Have a good day,’ I called after them.

      They waved as they ran to join their classes.

      I drove home, angry with Jenni’s mother and her heartless attitude. There is so much ignorance and prejudice surrounding mental illness; I hoped she didn’t express her venomous thoughts to her daughter, as it could affect her friendship with Beth.

      My hope was short-lived.

      That afternoon, when Beth came out of school, she was quieter than usual. I asked her a few times during the rest of the day if she was all right and she nodded and said she was. She perked up a bit to speak to her father but at seven o’clock, it was only at bedtime, when I asked Beth again if she was worrying about anything, that she said, ‘I don’t think I’m going to be friends with Jenni any more.’

      ‘Oh? Why is that?’ I asked.

      ‘She said some nasty things about my daddy. They upset me and I wanted to cry, but I didn’t.’

      ‘What sort of things?’ I asked gently. ‘Can you tell me?’

      Beth was sitting up in bed and I perched on the edge, facing her, and took her hand.

      ‘Jenni said my daddy has something wrong in his head and he has been locked up,’ Beth said, her little face very sad. ‘Jenni said he shouldn’t be allowed to look after me because he’s a nutter.’

      I knew where that had come from. You couldn’t blame Jenni. At her age she was just repeating what she’d heard at home. Beth’s eyes had filled and she was now looking at me for reassurance.

      ‘What Jenni said was very rude and also utter rubbish,’ I said forcefully. ‘You visited your daddy last Friday. You saw he was in a hospital, being made better. He wasn’t locked up, was he?’

      Beth shook her head. ‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘I should have told Jenni that, but I was too upset. I just walked away.’

      ‘Sometimes children say things they don’t understand,’ I said. ‘I think that’s what Jenni did. But it was probably best you didn’t get into an argument and just walked away. That’s what I would have done.’

      ‘My daddy tells me not to argue,’ Beth said sadly.

      ‘He’s right,’ I said.

      ‘Will I be allowed to live with my daddy again?’ Beth now asked.

      ‘Yes, of course, love. As soon as he is well and has left hospital.’

      Beth paused thoughtfully and then asked, ‘What is the matter with my daddy? I know he’s ill, but how is he ill? What’s the matter with him?’

      Beth had asked her father this question on the telephone when she’d first arrived, and he’d told her that things had been getting on top of him, and then he’d burst into tears and had had to cut short the call. Jessie had never told me exactly what was wrong with Derek, but from what I knew I’d assumed he’d had a mental breakdown.

      ‘Sometimes adults can become very unhappy,’ I said to Beth. ‘It’s called depression. Things start to get on top of them, sometimes little things upset them, and they keep crying. So they go to the doctors or the hospital and the doctors make them well again.’

      ‘When I was at home my daddy kept crying,’ Beth said. ‘I tried to make him better, but it made him cry even more. Was it my fault he kept crying?’

      ‘No. Definitely not. It was part of his illness.’

      ‘He used to get very tired too,’ Beth said. ‘And sometimes he got angry and shouted at me for no reason. He never shouted before. Is that part of his illness?’

      ‘Yes, love, it would have been.’

      ‘And not sleeping?’ Beth now asked, clearly relieved at finally being able to discuss this. ‘Daddy used to come to bed with me and then get up when he thought I was asleep. I’d wait for him to come back to bed, but sometimes he didn’t so I’d go and look for him. He was sitting in a chair with his head in his hands, or sometimes he was just walking up and down. If I asked him what was the matter, he’d start crying again.’

      I nodded and soothed her hand. The poor child had coped with so much, watching her father’s breakdown. Thank goodness, I thought, that Derek had sought help when he had and not left it any longer – for both their sakes.

      ‘Crying easily was part of your daddy’s illness,’ I said gently. ‘But the doctors are making him better. When you saw him last Friday he wasn’t crying, was he?’

      ‘No,’ Beth said, brightening a little. ‘He was laughing and joking and cuddling me like he used to.’

      ‘There you are!’ I said.

      ‘But why did Jenni say those horrible things if they aren’t true?’ Beth asked.

      ‘She didn’t understand what she was saying,’ I said. ‘I’m sure she didn’t mean to hurt you. Tomorrow I’ll come into school and see your teacher and ask her to explain to Jenni that what she said was upsetting.’ While I didn’t think Jenni was being intentionally malicious, the matter needed to be dealt with.

      ‘Oh no, please don’t do that!’ Beth cried, her eyes widening in alarm. ‘I don’t want you going into school and getting Jenni into trouble. I want us to be friends again.’

      ‘She won’t get into trouble,’ I said. I knew Miss Willow would handle the matter sensitively and tactfully. ‘Suppose Jenni says something else horrible? I don’t want you being upset and hurting.’

      ‘I’ll tell her not to be horrid,’ Beth persisted. ‘I can stand up for myself, but I don’t want you to go into school.’

      I hesitated; my instinct was to go in, but I was swayed by the forcefulness of Beth’s request not to. ‘If you really don’t want me to, I won’t,’ I said. ‘But I want you to promise me that if Jenni says anything else that upsets you, you’ll tell me. I don’t want you worrying. I’m here to help you.’

      Beth look relieved and finally smiled. ‘I promise I’ll tell you,’ she said. ‘But I’m sure it will be OK. Thank you for helping me. I wish I had a mummy like you.’

      It’s the little comments that are totally unexpected that often take my breath away and make me well up. Beth’s comment about having a mummy like me did just that. I felt my eyes mist and a lump rise to my throat.

      ‘That was a lovely thing to say,’ I said.

      ‘It’s true,’ Beth said. ‘If I had you for a mummy I’d be so happy.’

      And not for the first time I wondered why Beth hadn’t let Marianne be her mummy. From what I’d seen of Marianne I was sure she’d have made a very loving and caring stepmother. It was such a pity.

      True to my word, I didn’t go into school to see Miss Willow on Tuesday morning, despite still feeling it was the proper course of action. However, on Tuesday evening I had reason to reverse my decision. I’d said goodnight to Beth, Paula was asleep and I went into Adrian’s room to say goodnight to him. He was sitting up in bed reading a book, as he often did last thing at night.

      ‘Time to switch off your light and