The Girl Who Couldn't Smile by Shane Dunphy Read Free Book Online Page B

don’t think the axe has really fallen yet.’
    ‘Do tell,’ Lonnie said, leaning back in his chair, so the front two legs were in the air. He had remarkable balance.
    I told him about my first couple of days at Little Scamps, about the staff’s exhaustion and the general chaos.
    ‘So your plan is to redecorate, and get the kids to help?’ he said, peeling the label off his beer bottle.
    ‘I can’t change the kids in one go,’ I said, ‘but I can change the environment.’
    ‘Mmm. And our little water baby is one of your charges?’
    ‘Tammy, yeah.’
    ‘How has she been with you?’
    ‘You’d think she’d never ever set eyes on me before.’
    ‘What’s wrong with her, anyway?’ Lonnie asked.
    ‘No one seems to know,’ I replied, and told him what I had seen at Tammy’s house earlier that day.
    ‘I’d guess neglect might have something to do with it, then,’ my friend said.
    ‘To begin with,’ I agreed.
    ‘So what are you going to do?’
    ‘About Tammy?’
    ‘About all of it,’ Lonnie said.
    ‘Finish decorating and then play it by ear.’
    ‘What I like about that plan is its simplicity,’ Lonnie said sagely.
    ‘Kind of foolproof, isn’t it?’ I agreed. ‘I also need to hire some extra staff, and that may be a problem.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Well, Susan and Tush have tried and failed to get any newpeople to stay,’ I explained, ‘and I am, in fairness, supposed to be getting these children to settle down and feel safe and comfortable in the place. If I cause even more changes – particularly ones that don’t last – I might end up making things worse.’
    ‘Bit of a mess,’ Lonnie said, deadpan. ‘One might even go so far as to say that you’ve been a total disaster.’
    ‘Thanks for the support.’
    ‘You’re welcome. Now, seeing as how I hauled my arse all the way over here on a very warm evening, is there any chance of you feeding me before I die of starvation?’
    ‘Well, since you put it like that …’ I said.
    We went inside.
     
    Dinner passed pleasantly, with no mention of work. Lonnie had seen very little of the world, but he was widely read and could talk on virtually any subject. This made him an enormously entertaining dinner companion. That evening I was treated to his theories about the latent homosexuality in Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings (riddled with it, apparently), the real reason the French irritate so many people (how can a nation consider itself the pinnacle of art and culture when its greatest work of architecture is basically a bit of leftover scaffolding?), and whether or not Elvis was really dead (who cared?). When the plates were cleared away we took Millie for a short stroll through a pretty little wood near the cottage, where she spent her time chasing rabbits.
    ‘What do you think she’d do if she ever caught one?’ I asked Lonnie, as we watched the greyhound pounding helter-skelter after a bundle of grey with a white bobtail. As soon as it disappeared underground another (or maybe the same one) popped out of a hole ten yards to the left and Millie was off again.
    ‘I expect she’d break its neck, disembowel it and eat the viscera,’ Lonnie said, without a blink.
    ‘Not the baby?’ I said, aghast.
    ‘Nature red in tooth and claw,’ Lonnie said. ‘It’s instinct.’
    By the time we got back to the cottage it was starting to get dark. I lit a small fire (it wasn’t even slightly cold, but I always find a fire soothing and cheering), put some Miles Davis on the stereo and we sat nursing large whiskies.
    ‘I’ve been thinking,’ Lonnie said.
    ‘I always find those words deeply disturbing,’ I said.
    ‘You should.’
    ‘All right, I’ll take the bait. What were you thinking about?’
    ‘You need staff at this playschool, right?’
    ‘We do.’
    ‘How many do you need?’
    ‘One will suffice. For now, anyway.’
    ‘I’ll do it.’
    I took a swig of whisky. It was Teacher’s – not a single malt but very mellow. ‘That idea