Chapter 5: The Unexpected Challenges of Children's hair
"Right!" Richard said with more confidence than he felt. "I suppose we should get you washed and dressed."
"Ok!" Danielle agreed brightly, before jumping off the bed and tearing out of the porch doors before Richard really had any clue what was happening. He tried to follow her, slowed down by his shoes filling with sand, and discovered her dress discarded on the beach and her sitting in the shallows splashing happily and making appropriate 'washing' motions. Camille caught came up behind him, barefoot and laughing.
"God, aren't you supposed to wait half an hour before you swim, she could get cramp and die!" He went to make a mad dash to retrieve her, but Camille grabbed an arm to hold him back.
"Firstly, that's an old wives' tale, something I'm surprised you didn't know. Secondly, I don't think that counts as swimming."
"Right, yes, I did know that. I just momentarily…"
"Panicked?" she interrupted, with a smile.
"I did not panic," he said firmly. "I…momentarily allowed concern to override reason." She laughed lightly, and he just gave her half a smile back. Even he knew how lame that argument sounded. "Did you wash in the ocean when you were a child?" he asked, continuing to be bemused by Danielle's behaviour.
"No like most of the island we did have indoor plumbing, Sir." She sounded a little offended, and actually probably had to right to be.
"Sorry," he apologised. "I just can't figure out why she would respond like that."
"She probably just wanted to play in the ocean," She told him sensibly. He began gearing himself up to retrieve Danielle, perhaps hesitating a little more than most men would, and beside him he heard Camille tisk. She skipped out into the water, picked Danielle up with no regard for the fact her clothes were getting wet and carried the squirming, giggling child back over to him.
"I'll rinse the salt and sand off her, you check what she has to wear," Camille's tone sort of implied an order, but perhaps on this front he was best off following her lead.
He heard Camille ask Danielle what why she'd run into the ocean, to his surprise Danielle began to patiently explain to Camille that you don't get to go swimming in heaven.
Richard was relieved to find that four year olds could in fact dress themselves. It was rapidly becoming clear that not only did he not know anything about basic child psychology, he wasn't even clear on child development. He was starting to wonder if Danielle would surprise him at any moment by giving herself a manicure or even writing a novella. Camille was out on the porch phoning into the station so he was unable to look to her for help when Danielle approached him with a hair band. It would seem hair care was not on the list of skills she had developed yet. Problem was, it wasn't exactly on the list of Richard's skills either.
"Ok, right, um, turn around," Danielle did so obediently, and he grabbed his comb off the side. He managed to get it about half an inch through her tight curls before it got stuck. He didn't want to hurt the girl, but he tugged gently anyway, only for it to snap very decidedly in two. He frowned at the offending comb, wondering how he would extradite it, and himself, from this situation. He could hardly hand over Danielle to Eleanor Pattison with bits of comb stuck in her hair now could he? Danielle didn't seem to have even noticed there was a problem, she happily holding a conversation with Harry.
Camille returned and saw him staring at the source of his frustration, and smiled at him almost fondly, "Oh my goodness, my mother broke so many combs in my hair when I was a child. I think she had this vague idea her genes would balance out my father's and I'd end up with lovely loose curls. She soon learnt though."
She rummaged through the bag of things from Eleanor and retrieved a much more sensible looking wide toothed comb. Taking Danielle by the hand she popped her back down onto his bed and began to work Danielle's hair into a much more elaborate style than he had planned. Danielle was pretty delighted when Camille showed her in the mirror.
"Hey, you want to look at some more hairstyles," pulling some sort of woman's magazine out of her bag. Richard didn't know how she could appreciate classic literature, but also read such drivel. With the two of them settled down happily in his bed looking at photos of hairstyles far to elaborate to be worth the time, in his opinion, he decided maybe now was the time for tea.
There was one hell of an awkward moment when Eleanor Pattison arrived to pick up Danielle. Knocking briefly on the doorframe, she entered cheerfully beginning to wish Richard and Danielle a good morning, stopping mid-phrase when her eyes came to rest on Camille, still lounging in his bed with Danielle reading the magazine. It really didn't look good, and he hurried to explain the situation.
"Um, this isn't what it looks like," he started.
"Richard isn't exactly used to the intricacies of Afro-Caribbean hair," Camille interrupted him, before he could start the whole convoluted story. "I thought I better help Danielle out." She indicated the hair products on the bedside table. "We were just debating what hairstyles to try later on."
Richard had to admit Camille's explanation was vague enough to be interpreted incorrectly, but was still true. When he thought about it, the actual version of events would probably sound a little unbelievable. Hopefully Eleanor would assume Camille had come by earlier and stayed for breakfast. Hopefully she wouldn't notice Camille was wearing the same clothes as yesterday. Hopefully, hopefully, hopefully…
"Stop looking so worried Inspector, I was just a little surprised – not accusing you of anything," Eleanor said reassuringly.
"Ok, good, um, Danielle come here," the child hopped off the bed, magazine in hand, and came over to him, surprising him by taking his hand. "Eleanor has come to take you to play group, so you can play with some other children."
"Are you coming?" was her immediate reply.
"I can't I'm afraid, I have to go to work," he said, reasonably. Unfortunately, his response caused Danielle to start looking fearful and very much on the edge of tears. "Don't worry, Eleanor is very nice. You'll be back here for dinner!"
Danielle didn't look terribly comforted, "I could come to work with you. I'll be good."
"I'm sure you would be but, well, we have to ask some people some questions and they might not answer properly if you are there because they'll be worried about upsetting you. It's my job to find out what happened to your Mum, Danielle," he knew it was necessary, but he was still amazed by how guilty one slightly tearful child could make him feel.
"Can I borrow the magazine?" She asked Camille hopefully. Camille smiled back and told her to keep it, and Danielle obediently, if a little reluctantly, transferred her grasp of Richard's hand to Eleanor's. He waved her off cheerfully and then mentally drew a line – it was time to stop being sentimental and start being a police officer.
"Shall I drop you off at home so you can change, then meet you back at the station?" he said as he came back inside.
"Sounds like a plan."
He looked at her, gathering up her things, and felt like he owed her an apology. He'd completely frozen last night, and Christ only knew what would have happened if she hadn't been there. He couldn't let it happen again either – so not only did he need to apologise, he also needed her advice. Richard's main problem was the fact he had absolutely no idea how to broach the subject.
"Look, about last night," he began awkwardly. "I didn't exactly react in the most, well, appropriate or I don't know, supportive manner, and I'm sorry that…"
She held up a hand to still his fumbling apology, "Look, this morning if Danielle had said to me she thought it was a good idea to be dead as well, I probably would have just burst into tears. But you talked her out of it with reason of all things. So maybe we play to our strengths, I'll do the hugging and the pampering and you do the reasonable explanations for difficult questions and organisation and maybe between the two of us we can avoid messing her up any further."
It sounded like she was proposing a partnership of sorts, a shared responsibility of Danielle. He knew he needed the help that was for sure. And really, they were already partners at work, and Danielle had been assigned to his care because of work, so it sort of made sense. But on another level it disturbed him slightly, this realisation they'd essentially have to parent this child together for a few days, because he couldn't help but worry he might actually end up enjoying the experience. That playing house might prove just a little too tempting.
She was still waiting for him to make some reply, and there really was only one thing he could say, "Yeah, yeah I think that'll work."