Public Secrets

He’d done everything early, crawling weeks before the baby books had warned Bev to expect it.
His face had been on the cover of Newsweek, Photoplay , and Rolling Stone . The world had an ongoing love affair with Darren McAvoy. He had the blood of Irish peasants and staunch British conservatives in his veins, but he was a prince. No matter how careful Bev was, the paparazzi managed to snap new pictures of him on a weekly basis. And the fans clamored for more.

They sent him truckloads of toys which Bev meticulously shipped off to hospitals and orphanages. Offers poured in for endorsements. Baby food, a line of children’s clothing, a chain of toy stores. They were unilaterally refused. Through all the attention and adulation, Darren remained a happy, healthy toddler, who was currently enjoying, with relish, his terrible twos. If he had known about the attention, no doubt he would have cheerfully agreed he deserved it.
“This is the castle,” Emma told him as she arranged blocks. “And you’re the king.”
“I’m the king.” He plopped down to bounce on his padded bottom.
“Yes. King Darren the First.”
“First,” he repeated. He knew very well the meaning of that word, and enjoyed being put there. “Darren’s first.”
“You’re a very good king and kind to all the animals.” She pulled the ever faithful Charlie closer. Dutifully, Darren bent to give him a wet kiss. “And here are all your good and courageous knights.” Meticulously she set up dolls and stuffed toys. “There’s Da and Johnno, Stevie and P.M. And here’s Pete. He’s, ah … prime minister. This is the beautiful Lady Beverly.” Pleased, Emma posed her favored ballerina doll.
“Mum.” Darren kissed the doll in turn. “Mum’s pretty.”
“She’s the prettiest lady in the world. There’s a horrible witch after her, who locked her in a tower.” Emma had a vague image of her own mother, but it passed quickly. “All the knights go out to save her.” Making galloping noises, she pushed the toys toward the doll. “But only Sir Da can break the spell.”
“Sir Da.” The combination of words struck Darren as so funny he rolled and smashed the castle.
“Well, if you’re going to go around knocking down your own castle, I give up.”
“Ma.” Darren wrapped his arms around her and squeezed. “My Ma Ma. Let’s play farm.”
“All right, but we have to pick up the blocks or prissy Miss Wallingsford will come in and say we’re noisy, messy children.”
“Pissy. Pissy. Pissy.”
“Darren.” Emma clapped both hands over her mouth and giggled. “Don’t say that.”
Because it made her laugh, he said it again, at the top of his voice.
“What a word to come out of a nursery.” Not sure if she should be amused or stern, Bev stopped in the doorway.
“He means prissy,” Emma explained.
“I see.” Bev held out her arms as Darren ran to her. “That’s a very important r, my lad. And what are you two up to?”

“We were playing castle, but Darren liked knocking it down better.”
“Darren the Destructor.” Bev nuzzled against his neck until he squealed with laughter. His little legs locked around her so that she could hold him in his favorite position. Upside down.
She hadn’t known it was possible to love so much. Even the passion she felt for Brian paled beside the love she felt for her son. He gave back without even knowing he was giving. It was simply there, a hug, a kiss, or a smile. Always at the right time. He was the best and brightest part of her lire.
“Here now, go help your sister tidy up the blocks.”
“I can do it.”
After setting Darren down, Bev smiled at Emma. “He has to learn to pick up his own messes, Emma. However much you and I would like to do for him always.”
She watched them together, the delicate, fair-headed girl and the dark, sturdy boy. Emma was a neat, well-mannered child who no longer hid in closets. Brian had made a difference for her. And Bev hoped she herself had had a hand in forming Emma into the bright, cheerful child she was today. But it was Darren, she knew, who had truly tipped the scales. In her devotion to him, Emma forgot to be frightened, she forgot to be shy. In turn, Darren loved her completely.
Even as a baby, he had stopped crying more quickly if Emma soothed him. Each day the bond between them only strengthened.
Bev had been pleased the day a few months before when Emma had begun to call her Mum. It was a rare thing for her to look at Emma and think of her as