soon to take her away again.

Bev had driven her in the pretty car to go shopping in a big store with

bright clothes and beautiful smells. She had bought bags and boxes of

things for Emma. Emma liked a pink organdy dress with a frilly skirt

the best. She'd felt like a princess when she'd worn it the day her dad

and Bev had been married. She'd had shiny black shoes with little

straps as well, and white tights. No one had scolded when she'd smudged

the knees.

The wedding had seemed very strange and solemn to Emma, with everyone

standing out in the garden and the sun fighting off clouds. One of the

men everyone called Stevie had worn a long white shirt and baggy white

pants. He'd sung in a husky voice while strumming a glossy white

guitar. Emma had thought he was an angel, but when she'd asked Johnno,

he'd only laughed.

Bev had worn a circle of flowers in her hair and a flowing multicolored

dress that had swept her ankles. To Emma, she was the most beautiful

woman in the world. For the first time in her young life, she had been

struck by true envy. Th be beautiful, and grown-up, and standing beside

Dad. She'd never be afraid again, or hungry again. And like the girls

in the fairy tales Brian was so fond of, she would be happy ever after.

When the rain had started, they had gone inside to have cake and

champagne in a room with fabric books and flowers and fresh paint. More

guitars had been played and people had sung along and laughed. Beautiful

women, in slim short skirts or flowing cotton dresses, had roamed the

house. Some of them had cooed over her or patted her head, but for the

most part she'd been left to herself

No one noticed that she'd had three pieces of cake and smeared icing on

the collar of her new dress. There had been no other little girls to

play with, and Emma was too young to be dazzled by the names and faces

of the luminaries of the music business who had wandered through the

house. Bored, a little queasy from cake, she'd gone off to bed, lulled

by the sounds from the party.

Later, she'd woken. Restless, she had dragged Charlie out of bed to go

downstairs. But the heavy scent of pot smoke had stopped her. She was

familiar with it, too familiar. Like the stink of gin, the sweet scent

of marijuana was firmly linked in her mind with her mother, and the

shakings and beatings that had come whenever Jane had crashed from her

highs.

Miserable, she had huddled on the steps, cooing rea.s.surances to Charlie.

If her mam was here now, she would take her away. Emma had known she

would never again wear the pretty pink dress, or hear her Dad's voice,

or go into the big, bright stores with Bev.

She'd cringed when she heard the footsteps on the stairs, and waited for

the worst.

"h.e.l.lo there, Emma luy." Soaring, at peace with the world, Brian had

dropped down beside her. "What're you doing?"

"Nothing." She'd curled tighter over the stuffed dog. She made herself

small, very small. If they couldn't see you, they couldn't hurt you.

"It's quite the party." Leaning back on his elbows, he'd grinned at the

ceiling. Never in his wildest fantasies had he believed he would one