Always His Baby

Chapter 9
Helper

Chapter Description: Can Sheridan hold onto her maturity at the supermarket?

“What would you like for dinner tonight?” Dad asks as they head down the fresh meat aisle; “Sausage and mash? Or maybe some chicken? We can have spaghetti and meatballs; your favourite, right?”

Sheridan gives a shrug along with a roll of her eyes. She doesn’t care. She’s bored and her feet hurt but she dare not tell her father as that would mean an instant trip to the child seat in the trolley. Then everyone would see her and think she’s a stupid baby. Whenever Sheridan does catch sight of a real, gurgling infant strapped into one of those seats with their mum or dad cooing nonsense to them, she makes a show of practically marching beside the trolley to show her maturity. The cost being that afterwards her little knees feel like they’ve been sizzled on a frying pan.

It doesn’t help that Dad keeps stopping the trolley every thirty seconds to scan what’s available and look for any bargains. It’s like he’s deliberately stalling. Doesn’t he realise how serious this is? Is he falling under the spell as well? Sheridan, too, begins to realise she’s been finding it all too easy to slip into an innocent, playful mindset. The sight of another child that’s only a few inches smaller than her has been enough to snap her out if it and remind her of what’s at stake.

If only the same could be said for her stupid slow-poke of a father.

“Look at these, Sheri. Dinosaurs!” Dan grins and shows her the breaded chicken in the shape of a T-Rex and various other prehistoric monsters; “Bet they’d be tasty, hmm? You better eat them before they gobble you up!”

“Stop it.” She hisses, trying to keep her voice low; “What are you doing? You know I’m not really a little kid!”

Her father’s face falls a little; “Of course I know....But we don’t want to make people suspicious now, do we? If someone did this to you on purpose, they might be watching. Making sure it’s worked. Then they won’t suspect anything or try to stop us before we get to the police. Understand?”

Sheridan nods. Her little head feels weighted down by the load of information but she’s able to form it into a completed puzzle of sense. It doesn’t mean she has to like it though.

“You can pretend to be a good little girl for a while. I know how good of an actress you are – remember when you were the angel in the school play? Kate Winslet; eat her heart out.”

Sheri tries to suppress a smile but it’s rather futile. Of course she knows she’s good at drama. Strange that Dad would pick such a juvenile moment as an example though. It wasn’t half as good as her performance in the Spring Shakespear festival where she played Ophey...Ophal...What was her name again? Why can’t she remember?

She shakes her head in frustration; “Fine. Just pick some food so we can leave and go to the police station.” At least she’s more in control of her childish speech. There’s no doubt she’s really a teenager.

“Got it.” Dad nods, standing up after what seemed to onlookers as a man trying to calmly and quietly talk his toddler out of a tantrum.

They continue through the shop and, to his credit, Dad does seem to be speeding up a little and not lingering quite as long. He does remind Sheridan to keep up when she finds herself distracted by some of the delicious looking birthday cakes on offer. She thinks back to Emma’s party the day before and her heart pangs. Would she ever be allowed round their house again? Would Sammy still want to play with Sheridan at school on Monday? Anger and shame battle inside of her for dominance. It takes her a moment to remember why she had got to upset at the party to begin with. So she wasn’t the same age as Sammy really – she was much older – but Sammy had been such a good friend that she’d still want to hang out with Sheridan. Right?

There’s a pat on her back by her father’s hand and she sighs, trotting to keep up with the trolley, snuffling and rubbing her eyes that threaten to tear up at any moment.

“Aww, someone is a tired teddy.” A rather floaty, feminine voice coos; “Why the long face, sweetie?”

Sheridan looks up and feels the floor vanish beneath her feet. Her jaw drops.

It’s...the woman. The woman from her dream, the one she’d seen glimpses of around town, stalking her. The same purple curls falling down past her shoulders and violet eyes sparkling at her. Sheri steps back and clutches for her father’s leg. She should say something. She should let him know but...it’s like her tongue is paralysed. Right now she’s the perfect image of a shy, speechless tot.

Dad pats her hair; “She’s just bored. She refuses to sit in the trolley. But we’re almost done now and she can have a lovely nap on the ride home.”

“Are you being Daddy’s good little helper?” The woman smiles and Sheridan feels compelled to nod; “That’s a good girl. But Daddy can’t hear you all the way down here with your thumb in your mouth. If you sat up here then you could tell Daddy what to get and help him put it in the trolley. You’d be much more helpful than a silly baby then, wouldn’t you Sheri?”

Sheridan is still, her fingers gripping at the denim of Dad’s jeans tight. How does the woman know her name? Why isn’t her father surprised by that? And what is she on about; she is helping more than a silly baby and she does not have her thumb in her mouth! It’s only when she tries to say something to protest that she realises...oh God.

Her mouth is stuffed full of one very wet thumb. How long had she been doing that? Had the woman...done something? And worst of all, why does it feel so good and she’s so reluctant to take it out? It makes her feel...secure. Like cuddling her Rapunzel doll last night had.

She looks up at Dad with her big eyes and reaches her arm up, bouncing on her shoes a little. She feels vulnerable down here with the woman staring at her, a teeth-rottingly sweet smile on her face. Down here Sheridan could do more than kick her in the shin. If she is a...Witch, as Sheridan is beginning to suspect, then she could swoop Sheri up and steal her away before Dad would have a chance to stop her.

But Dad smiles and scoops her up into his arms, holding her close, not saying anything about her thumb-sucking which she seems incapable of stopping with the woman’s eyes on her. She buries her face in Dad’s neck. I can’t see you if you can’t see me!

The woman gives a soft chuckle; “Adorable.” And then, thankfully, she walks off.

When Sheridan lifts her head up, she’s gone. Vanished She sighs heavily around her thumb. Dad jiggles her a bit in his arms and looks at her face.

“What got you all shy all of a sudden, ey?” He smiles, wiping her nose from where she’d snivelled a little.

Sheridan shrugs; “Lady scary...” She doesn’t know how else to explain it. She doesn’t have any real proof aside from the vague yet terrifying dream.

“She seemed very nice to me.” Dad says but doesn’t press on the subject; “You gonnna sit in the trolley and help me now? Or – if you wanna be bigger than all the other kids – you can ride on my shoulders. Then you’ll be the tallest princess in England.”

“Daddy’s shoulders!” She cheers with a new-found burst of excitement.

Dad nods and puts her legs either side of his neck, letting her hold onto his hair like short reigns. Yes, that’s better. Clever Daddy. Now she can see above everyone else. She feels gigantic above all the other children forced to come here with their parents. Even when she passes a boy who is also getting a piggy-back ride from his father, her daddy is much taller and so she can stick her tongue out at the boy giving her an envious frown.

She feels much more awake up here too. All she needed was to give her little legs a rest. And she’s more than happy to let Daddy know what flavour ice cream they should get and what spread she wants for her sandwiches (“Nutella or Marmite? Ask a stupid question.” Daddy knew that one on his own). She still feels a bit tired though, especially when they get to the tills and the young man is scanning all their food.

“Almost done, princess.” Dad pats her knee.

But she’s falling asleep in his hair, whimpering every time her body wakes itself up, wriggling with discomfort.

The till-worker smiles, sympathetically; “I’ll pack the shopping for you, Sir, if your hands are full.”

Dad smiles, gratefully, and lifts Sheridan down off his shoulders to hold her in his arms and gently rock her from side to side. Sheri sighs and wraps one arm around Daddy’s neck, sucking her thumb with the other, snuggling into his warm chest. Her little brain is far too tired to hold onto any of the worrying thoughts from earlier – from the police station to her friends to the scary woman. She doesn’t even worry about the trickle of urine between her legs. She’s wearing her special Pull-Ups which Daddy said she would need so it’s not a problem. Nothing leaks out or stains her overalls.

She hears Daddy thank the man at the till when he’s finished packing their shopping. Something about fantastic ’cus-mer serfice’...? Boring. Daddy’s cuddle is all that matters right now.

“No problem. I’ve got a sister about her age. They’re so cute at three.” The man...well, just a teenager surely. But still a lot bigger than Sheridan.

She raises her sleepy head. She should really tell the till-worker that she’s not really a toddler like his baby sister. He’s rather cute as well...shouldn’t he be thinking of her as something other than ’cute’? Not like this, of course, but how she should properly look. She blinks and takes her thumb out, rolling her tongue to try to find the words.

Dad rubs her back; “What is it, princess? What do you need?”

Need. What does she need? Something important...Something that needs to be sorted out now...

She squirms a bit, feeling the squishiness between her legs. Then she remembers!

“Wet my puw-ups, Daddy!” Sheridan announces, a lot louder than she had meant to. As soon as the words leave her mouth, her cheeks flush brighter than red cherries in the spring. Why had she been so proud to tell her father – not to mention everyone at the till – that embarrassing information?

Both Daddy and the teenage shop boy chuckle fondly. Sheridan’s thumb shoots back between her lips. What on Earth was happening to her?

“Don’t worry about that, sweetie. Daddy will sort that out for you.” He kisses her forehead and she feels a fuzzy, cuddly warmth surround her brain.

Then the worries go away again.

She feels like she’s floating through a dream, content with sucking her thumb and watching the big, strange world move around her as Daddy carries her to the Parent & Baby toilets. Daddy talks to her sweetly, making silly faces that bring out soft giggles, as he strips her down and removes her wet training pants before pulling a fresh pair up her legs. She feels like she should be helping Daddy to dress her but he seems to have everything under control. Daddies always do. It’s their job. What was wrong with Sheridan being a good girl and letting Daddy clean her quickly?

Sheridan later realises she must have fallen asleep right there in the toilets as, when she wakes, she’s back in the child seat in her dad’s car, Kiara cuddled up to her cheek in one arm and the other keeping her thumb in her mouth. She wriggles again and is relieved that she’s still dry. How long has she been out for?

And why is the car not moving yet? Don’t they have to get somewhere important?

She would ask Dad but he’s already talking...on his mobile. No, not one with stars and moons that go over a baby’s crib. Sheridan giggles to herself at the thought of Daddy talking to one of those.

Her laugh alerts her father who looks over his shoulder, giving her a brilliant smile; “She’s just woke up...Do you want to speak to her?...Okay...I’ll let you get on with that then and get us both ready...Two o’clock, right...See you then.”

Dad puts his phone away and gets out the car, moving around to open the door and unbuckle his daughter from her seat.

“Did you have a nice nap, princess? No more silly dreams?” He asks, lifting her up into his arms.

She shakes her head. None that she can remember.

“Who dat on phone?” She asks, curiously.

“It was your grandma.” He replies, brightly, tapping her nose; “She’s invited us round for dinner. Isn’t that lovely?”

Sheridan nods, a brief smiling appearing on her face before it falls away.

“But...we have to go to po’wice stash-on!” Why does she have to keep reminding Daddy of this? He’s supposed to be the responsible one. He’s supposed to be taking care of her.

Dad suddenly looks very sad, his eyes widening enough to give a puppy a run for its money.

“Of course, I forgot.” He sighs; “I suppose I better call her up and tell her we can’t come. Poor Grandma. She was looking so forward to seeing you. And she said she had a lovely present to give you too but...I guess that can wait. Though she probably won’t be able to give it to you when you’re a big girl who’s too cool for gifts from Grandma.”

Sheridan feels a stab of guilt in her chest followed by a buzz at the idea of a present.

Surely it wouldn’t hurt to go to the police station later, after dinner with Grandma? It wasn’t like the police were going to disappear if they waited.

“Well, should I ring her then? Do you want to tell her?” Dad asks, “You are a big girl after all...”

Sheridan shakes her head, not meaning to deny the last statement but she doesn’t notice.

“Go see Grandma! Wan’ pwesant nooow! P’ease, Daddy!” She begs, fidgeting and bouncing to show her enthusiasm. Grandma was more important than police any day. And she didn’t like that Daddy had looked so sad either.

How could she have resisted?