Chocolate Frogs
Beep-beep.
Small, pale fingers wound their way around the cheap plastic cored.
Beep-beep.
A rounded, yellow-tinged tooth worried at plump, cracked cherry lips.
Beep-beep.
Shallow, nervous breathing filled the dark room. Baby blue eyes darted to the door, peering through the tiny crack. Dark. Still. Silent.
Beep-bee-
‘Hello-’
Heart pounding, she clutched the phone tightly in both hands, pressing it firmly against her ear. The sharp plastic edge bit uncomfortably into her skin.
‘-this is childline. My name is Denise. Can I ask who is calling please?’
Her grip tightened, her breath faltering. She opened her mouth. Bow lips moved slowly. She frowned, tears forming in her eyes. The sound refused to come out.
‘Hello? Is anyone there?’
Twin trails of crystal tears made their way down dirt-coated cheeks, as a single yellow baby tooth bit harshly into the flesh of her bottom lip.
‘Hello?’
A tiny whimper left her lips.
‘Are you still there, sweetie?’
She sounded nice. A bit like old Mrs. Evlyn from the corner shop. She always used to be nice when her Mummy used to take her there to buy something for tea if they hadn’t remembered to get enough from Waitrose the Saturday before. That was a long time ago. Back before David, when Daddy still lived with them. Old Mrs. Evlyn hadn’t liked David. She hadn’t liked the new little boxes her Mummy bought from her, either, or the big, clear glass bottles she bought in twos or threes.
She had still sneaked her a frog-shaped chocolate bar each time she came in, though, so even if she was mad at her Mummy, old Mrs. Evlyn must have still liked her. But then her Mummy had switched to shopping at Nettos, and David had moved in. Rather than taking her along when she went to the corner shop, she would take David. They always took an awfully long time, and often came back smelling funny. And they usually forgot the shopping. And her chocolate frog. Maybe old Mrs. Evlyn had forgotten her, too. It had been an awfully long time now…weeks and weeks and weeks. That was enough time for a grown-up to forget, wasn’t it? Mummy had forgotten Daddy that quickly, after all. So it must be a very long time indeed.
‘I know it can be hard. But you don’t have to say or tell me anything you don’t want to. I’m just here to listen if you want to talk.’
Tangled blond locks swayed as she nodded, both hands still holding the handset tightly. She licked her lips. Her nose scrunched at the yucky metallic taste that filled her mouth.
‘Would you like to tell me your name, sweetie? Or we could just chat if you want to. About anything you want, of course. Or I could just keep talking, if you would rather keep quiet.’ Denise paused.
‘L-’ Her voice faltered. She forced her fingers from the phone, carefully placing it down on the stained pink cotton duvet cover. Bare feet crept across cold wooden floorboards. Cautiously, she peered through the thin metal blinds, out into the dark street below. The car wasn’t there.
Sparing one last glace out of the window, she ran back to her small single bed, barely making a sound. She clutched the phone in trembling hands once again.
‘-llo? Are you still there? He-’
‘Lollie.’
The line fell silent.
‘Lollie? That’s a beautiful name, sweetheart.’
Her lips twitched, the corners turning upwards. This Denise-lady really did seem awfully nice.
‘Thank-you.’ She made sure to keep her voice down. Even if the house was empty now, there was no point in risking being heard. Just because the car wasn’t parked didn’t mean that her Mummy and David weren’t almost back. They had come back without the car before-both of them smelling funny and walking all wobbly. Mummy must have lost her key, as Dave had to throw a brick through the glass in the back door. They must have forgotten that she was there and could have let them in. She didn’t want to remind them. David was scary when he smelled like that. Especially scary. She didn’t like it.
‘You’re welcome. Now, is there anything you would like to tell me Lollie, or want to talk about?’
She bit her lip again. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea. After all, when the police lady came and told them all about childline and had given them each a shiny green and white card with the phone number printed stamped across the middle, she had said it wasn’t for silly little things, like when Elle asked if Robbie pushing her down and taking her cookie was the sort of thing that you could call about. She had said it was for children to call when they needed someone to talk to because their parents weren’t very nice or someone was hurting them. And no, she didn’t mean when your parents wouldn’t buy you a new game for your Wii, or if your pet hamster bit you. She had been very clear about that, Lollie remembered. So had Ms. Poole. She had frowned at them, telling them all about why none of them should tell stories or waste the nice people from the hotlines time. It was only for special cases. One thing Lollie knew was that she was anything but special.
‘Or we could even chat, if you just want someone to talk to.’
‘I-I’m sorry, Mrs. Denise’ She looked down at her thumb through watery lashes. Thumb sucking was for babies. David didn’t like seeing her suck her thumb. What David didn’t like, Mummy didn’t like. Daddy never used to care… ‘But Daddy isn’t here now’ She scolded herself under her breath. Mummy always got sad when she mentioned Daddy. David got mad.
‘Where is your Daddy, Lollie? Do you know?’
She blinked in surprise. Had she said that out loud? ‘Mummy said Daddy went to heaven. He’s been gone an awfully long time, now. I still don’t know when he’ll be back. Do you know if heaven is a long way away? I’ve never been there. Have you been there?’
She listened to the crackling noise the phone always seemed to give out since David had spilt his can all over it when he was mad. It had made an awfully loud sound when it had hit the wall just behind her head, showering both her and the phone in the nasty smelling liquid. She had been trying to call Grandma, to tell her all about Mummy and David and to ask if she had seen Daddy since he had gone to heaven. David hadn’t been happy at all.
‘No, I haven’t been there, Lollie. It is a long way away-a very, very long way away.’
‘Oh’
‘Didn’t your Mummy or one of your teachers explain all about heaven to you when your Daddy left?’
‘Umm…’ Lollie tried to remember. She had only had the courage to ask her Mummy where Daddy had gone once. She had seemed so sad. And angry. And then David had come along, replacing their nice shiny blue car with an old, rusted red car with a mismatched green door on one side. A lot of things had changed since her Daddy had gone off to heaven.
‘No’ She answered quietly. ‘Does…’
‘Yes, Lollie? Go on’
Denise did sound nice, like she actually wanted to listen. Nobody wanted to listen to her anymore, not even Mrs. Poole, who used to give her gold stars on her stories and maths homework and used to smile kindly at her, take her back to her office and give her a cookie if her Daddy was running a little late in picking her up. Now she just ignored her, or frowned at her if she was late coming into class because David needed to use the car and her Mummy didn’t want to walk with her because of yet another headache.
They were meant to tell the class about their weekend after the bank holiday. That was when Mrs. Poole stopped being so nice. She didn’t like fibbers, she had said. Especially when the fib was about something so serious. Lollie had been confused. She hadn’t fibbed at all. David had let her play cards with him and his friend while Mummy had to go into work, though she hadn’t understood the rules properly. That must have been why she had lost and had had to take her favourite yellow dress off that her Daddy had bought her just before he went off to heaven, and her matching yellow knickers and socks. David’s friend had been silly, breathing all funny. And he had to rush off to the bathroom. David had been happy, though. His fried had given him some notes before he left, though Lollie hadn’t remembered seeing purple and red notes before, only blue, with the funny lady’s head on it-the queen, Daddy had said when she had first asked him about it in Mc. Donalds.
David had been really happy-he even bought her a chocolate bar. Not her favourite froggy-shaped one, but a larger, darker bar, with little red pieces in that tasted like chilli. She didn’t tell him she didn’t like it, that she would have rather have had her froggy chocolate. After all, he was in a good mood. She didn’t want to spoil things. She had already made him mad enough when Mrs. Poole had called him and her Mummy in for a parent-teacher conference about what she had said about her weekend.
That’s when she had told her off for fibbing. Even her Mummy had been mad at her, even madder than David had been- ‘Kids will be kids.’ He had kept reassuring her Mummy. He kept saying things like ‘It’s a phase they all go through’ to her. He hadn’t been as nice, though, once Mummy had gone to buy more of the nasty adult-drink.
He had picked her up under her armpits, sitting her on the countertop in the kitchen. He warned her what happened to bad little girls, who told. How nobody would believe them anyway, and how their Mummy’s wouldn’t love them anymore, and all the other kids at school would hate them and would never, ever play with them again. She had promised never ever to tell again. That wasn’t enough, though, not for David.
The stove was on. Her Mummy had been cooking some pasta before she had left, leaving it to boil whilst she was out. He moved the pot over to the other ring.
Holding her wrist, he had looked into her eyes as he made her promise, swear, on her Mummy’s life, that she wouldn’t tell. He had thrust her had down, holding it there. She had screamed, and screamed and screamed. He had held his hand over her mouth. Good girls didn’t scream. They counted to five. Slowly. Then they were forgiven. So she had.
Mummy and Mrs. Poole had believed her about being clumsy with the pasta when she told them how her hand got so red and blistered, had believed her when she said it was her fault-that David had told her not to touch. The Doctor had believed her, too.
‘Does...does this mean that Daddy isn’t coming back?’
‘…I’m afraid so, sweetie…I’m sure if you asked your Mummy or one of your teachers, they would explain it to you properly.’
Fidgeting, she bit her lip. She didn’t think asking again would be a good idea, no matter how nice Denise sounded. Reaching down, she carded her fingers through her toes with one hand, the other still holding the phone, though not as tight as she had been. She looked down at her faded nighty. It really was getting a bit too short for her. David liked it, though. And Mummy was too busy to take much notice of those sorts of things anymore.
‘Umm…I-’
Thump.
Her eyes widened.
‘Come on, you goddamned ******** piece of s**t. Open already!’
‘Lollie sweetie? Are you still there? Can you tell me if you’re alright, I thought I heard a bang.’
Clinging to the cheap plastic, she glanced at her barely-open door, knowing it wouldn’t be long before one of them remembered how to open the front door properly, or at least remembered how to break it open again.
‘Sssh’ She hissed into the phone, hands scrabbling for her worn pink duvet cover. ‘I need to be quiet for a moment, kay? Umm…do you want me to go now? I have to be quiet for a while…’
‘No, no! That’s ok, you can stay on the line for as long as you need to. Can you tell me why you need to be quiet?’
She burrowed under the quilt, clutching the phone to her chest. ‘David and Mummy just got home. Ssssh. Mummy will be sleepy.’
She knew from experience that her Mummy usually came home being half-dragged, half carried by David or one of his friends most nights. When it was more than just the two of them, the other would usually give David one of those purple notes, she had seen when peeking through the crack of her door. She had seen a red one being given to him one time too. Then the friend would go and put her Mummy to bed. They always closed the door, too, and took ages to tuck her in. Sometimes David would come into her room while his friends visited her Mummy. He usually just looked, while she pretended to be asleep. Sometimes he would take the duvet off of her, or move her nighty. He breathed all funny too, when he did that, and fidgeted with his trousers. It made her room smell funny.
She listened carefully. It sounded like David had bought a friend home with him again. She waited, listening out for the sound of her Mummy’s bedroom door clicking shut.
She froze. Instead of her Mummy’s bedroom door, she could hear two sets of footsteps coming down the corridor.
‘Umm…I need to go now. Sorry for bothering you, Misses Denise.’
‘Wait, Lollie, why-’
Shoving the phone underneath her pillow, she tugged on the white cord, hoping it would pull out. It didn’t. She didn’t realise that she hadn’t hung up the phone correctly.
Screwing her eyes shut tightly, Lollie pulled the cover up over her head. Maybe they were just going to the bathroom. After all, David’s friends never visited her, only Mummy.
Click.
She held her breath.
‘Here she is, just like I told you.’
His voice sounded all slurry again. She wrinkled her nose. They both smelled icky.
A large, rough hand invaded her safe cocoon. Sandpaper fingers trailed over her cheek, foul smelling breath washing over her. She tried desperately not to breath it in.
‘That’s enough. £200 up front, or stop with the touching.’
She breathed a sigh of relief. He had said stop, after all, and the thick, rough fingers had stopped.
‘Here.’
She could hear rustling. She didn’t dare peek. David had been mad when he had caught her awake when he had tried to come into her room one night.
‘Just make sure you’re gone before Jenny wakes up. Stupid b***h should be out until eight, maybe nine at the latest. She drank enough for the three of us, after all.’
Lollie listened, confused. Why was David leaving his friend alone with her?
The door clicked shut.
The same large, rough hands returned, lifting her duvet off of her completely this time.
She blinked slowly, pretending to wake up.
She couldn’t see him properly in the dark, the little light coming through the blinds doing nothing to help. She could hear him, though, breathing heavily.
She looked at his shadowy outline, as he reached for her nighty. Her mouth fell open in a small o of understanding.
‘Ooooh, are you going to play cards with me, too? I still don’t know the rules properly, though.’ She pouted.
‘That’s ok.’ His breathing grew heavier. ‘I’d be more than happy to teach you.’
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