Cleo doesn't speak very much. Her silence says "I have asked you before, and you did not answer" Thats how she protests. She says, "I reduce myself as a way of growing tall, I am so small you will not see me stab back my revenge" Because sometimes she feels that way, like stabbing and crying and blinding blundering through the hearts of them all.

She smiles more now - here in this house with Jason, and Charlotte - a calm sea in the camality of her mothers mania. But no Granddad. That is the worst part.

She sees the soldiers and the policeman, she sees the angry men lock their gaze with other angry men, she sees the milkman and the teacher, and the neighbours and their children and the face of God - and amonsgt all this she searches for her father, always searching for the face of this man she knows so well and has not met.
She is so scared that if she ever were to see him, he would cease to exist.



Who Will Sing Me Lullabies - a song by Kate Rusby

Lay me down gently, lay me down low,
I fear I am broken and won't mend, I know.
One thing I ask when the stars light the skies,
Who now will sing me lullabies,
Oh who now will sing me lullabies?

In this big world I'm lonely, for I am but small,
Oh angels in heaven, don't you care for me at all?
You heard my heart breaking for it rang through the skies,
So why don't you sing me lullabies,
Oh why don't you sing me lullabies?

I lay here; I'm weeping for the stars they have come,
I lay here not sleeping; now the long night has begun.
The man in the moon, oh he can't help but cry,
For there's no one to sing me lullabies,
Oh there's no one to sing me lullabies?

So lay me down gently, oh lay me down low,
I fear I am broken and won't mend, I know .
One thing I ask when the stars light the skies,
Who now will sing me lullabies,
Oh who now will sing me lullabies?

Who will sing me to sleep,
Who will sing me to sleep?

Cleo has a father, she knows it, it doesnt matter that he's not there or that she can't see him. You can't see God and they say that he's real. It's the same thing, isn't it?

She loves him, beyond belief, and he is the good-guy, the superhero, the Greek God, the fixer, the magician and the clown. He is strong and tall and gentle. But he laughs as loud as he wants.


Words, Wide Night by Carol Ann Duffy

Somewhere on the other side of this wide night
and the distance between us, I am thinking of you.
The room is turning slowly away from the moon.

This is pleasurable. Or shall I cross that out and say
it is sad? In one of the tenses I singing
an impossible song of desire that you cannot hear.

La lala la. See? I close my eyes and imagine the dark hills I would have to cross
to reach you. For I am in love with you

and this is what it is like or what it is like in words.

I am beginning to feel that for this person not to exist would be ludicrous!

Almost certainly my name will be Cleo - this suits me. It is not too sweet or naive, which she certainly is not.

So many memories to write about and picture, and so many people to create and lives to build. It is almost quite overwheleming and we've barely even started. But it consumes me in a good way, an exciting way, I am so attatched to this imaginary self already.


Cleo's hair is curly, and Joan clips it into old fashioned styles, which Cleo likes.

Ian teaches her to read in his office. The door bumps the bottom of her bed if you open it too far.

Her Ma is sad and tired, she laughs nervously and rubs her head. Sometimes she shouts. But then she sings too, and the singing is the best part.

I have a home and a school and a church, I have Ian and Joan, and my mother Grace. I have Shaun from school and his dad, I have Molly and Michael, Mrs Johnson and Mr Hillsborough.

And all of a sudden there is this new man...