Papa's LITTLE Girls

Raleekah
Miss Featherstone thought that Raleekah was far too aware of her sexuality, especially since she was only four years old. She looked nothing the part of an amateur as she stood there in the corner of the classroom with one tiny hand held in between her legs beneath her school summer dress and the other attached to her mouth, as she endlessly sucked on her forefinger. A look of ecstasy was fixed upon her young face as she swung her non-existent hips to the beat. All of the nursery children were supposed to be dancing to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star during Music Time and once again, Miss Featherstone was concerned about Raleekah’s questionable dance moves. Enough was enough and that afternoon, at home time, she finally decided to address the issue with Raleekah’s mother.
‘Good afternoon Mrs Wilson, how was your day?’ said Miss Featherstone.
‘It’s not Mrs.’
‘Sorry?’
‘You called me Mrs Wilson. That ain’t my name. It’s Ms Denton... Me and Raleekah’s dad ain’t together no more. You know what? Just call me Nikky init. It’s easier that way.’
‘Oh, my apologies, I didn’t realise. Sorry about that.’
‘Yeah, it’s ok. Raleekah! Come now. Let’s go.’ She turned to face the children’s storage cabinet and bent down to collect her daughter’s book bag and lunch box from the tray marked Raleekah Wilson. As Nikky bent down, Miss Featherstone caught sight of her lower back and almost gasped at the sight of her tattoo. The image of a naked black woman, crouching down with her legs open, crotch exposed and her fingers clutching on to tufts of tangled afro pubic hair, had been marked on Nikky’s lower back for life.
‘Raleekah! You nah here me? I said let’s go. You think I got all day to be waiting for your little ass? Honestly that girl. She’s gonna drive me crazy one day...Always taking her God damn time to do things!’
‘Uh...Mrs Wil- Ms Denton... Nikky. We can’t actually speak like that in front of the children’. Miss Featherstone desperately hoped that the other parents had not heard the obscene remark that had just been made in the presence of their innocent young ones.
‘Oh please! It ain’t like they don’t already know what these words mean. Heck! Everyone knows that ass just means bum or backside or bottom – whichever term you guys feel is “most appropriate” and besides, it ain’t even like I said “arse”, I said, “ass”. Ain’t that just another word for a donkey anyway? They can’t be offended by that – it’s just like learning the names of all dem animals on MacDonald’s farm. Hell. I’m even doing them a bloody favour.’
‘Well... Yes... I suppose’ said Miss Featherstone. She was now looking very uncomfortable. ‘But even still, many of the parents wouldn’t be too happy knowing that such language is being used around their children you see.’
‘Do you think I give a damn about what would make the other parents happy or unhappy?’ said Nikky. Miss Featherstone was not quite sure how to answer this question. In fact, she didn’t know if she was even expected to answer it. ‘Do you see any of these other parents paying my nursery fees for me? No! So I can damn well say what I wanna bloody say. I was talking to my daughter, not anyone else’s bloody child and when the flipping day comes that any of these other parents wanna start paying the fees for my child – then fine! I’ll start saying whatever words they want me to say in front of their kids. Heck I’ll even sing the words they want me to say. In fact – you know what? The day that any of these parents decide they wanna pay for my daughter’s nursery fees, I’ll put on a bloody performance for them – a whole flipping pantomime with singing and dancing and whatever – but Miss Featherstone, until that day comes – and as long as I’m still bringing my child to this place and paying that flipping £155 every week for her fees, no one can tell me shit about what I can and cannot say you hear?’
‘Of course, of course,’ said Miss Featherstone, with a blanket of fear messily strewn across her pale face. Her friends from teacher training had always joked about these West Indian types, with their hot tempers and feisty attitudes but she never dreamed that she would ever have to really face it herself. ‘Don’t mind me,’ she said. ‘It’s just those people in the office. They’re always on my case whenever one of the children from the nursery brings a rude word into the classroom or something. It’s so silly really. I mean, come on, as if these kids aren’t going to hear such words outside the classroom anyway. I don’t really know why they even bother to be honest’, she said, more for the benefit of saving her own ass from a ‘Nikky lashing’.
‘Thank you girl!’ Said Nikky. ‘Now you see what I mean. Coz I was thinking...is this lady for real? And is she really trying to tell me about how I’m supposed to talk around my own child? I know you only started here two weeks ago but I knew – like – surely you couldn’t be that stupid. Imagine! Trying to tell a Nursery-Fee-Paying-Mother how to talk around her own child...nah love. Didn’t think so. What a load of crap! ’
Miss Featherstone smiled nervously. ‘Oh! Of course not. I was just saying it because I happened to catch a glimpse of Rachel from the office walking by outside the classroom and you know her, always eager to tell Beverly, the manager, everything and anything’.
Nikky’s attitude lightened at the opportunity for a good gossip. ‘Exactly. I knew there was something up with that Rachel lady,’ she said with a smile emerging across her face. ‘She’s always got her head half way up the manager’s arse, honestly, it’s like Rachel’s neck actually grows out of Beverly’s arse hole.’ She began to laugh uncontrollably at her own joke.
Miss Featherstone flinched at the words ‘arse’ and ‘arse hole’ but giggled anyway, hoping that Nikky would not pick up on her sense of apprehension. Nikky began to head towards the nursery exit and said, ‘Anyway love, I’ve got to be off now. Raleekah! Would you get your ass here now! Who told you that you could go back to your dancing when you can see that I’m ready to leave? And who you waiting to carry your damn book bag and lunch box for you? Girl, you best pick up them feet and move it before I move you with my fist. Don’t think I’ve got too much shame than to lash your ass in public honey! You can dance when you get home. Uncle Clive’s just bought mummy that new ‘Sexy Slow Jams’ CD that we saw at Sunday market last week, so you can shake your ass to that when Uncle Clive and me have finished ok?’
Before finally leaving with Raleekah, Nikky turned to her daughter’s teacher and said, ‘Thanks Miss Featherstone, see you tomorrow. I’ll be bringing in her fees for the week. It’ll be in that small pocket on the side of her book bag. There isn’t anything else you wanted to speak to me about is there?’
‘Oh no! Nothing at all! Everything’s fine. I’ll remember...book bag... side pocket. See you tomorrow Raleekah, be good’. With that, she sighed deeply and headed towards the seat at her desk in the messy classroom. Keeping a constant eye on the children, Miss Featherstone pondered the various events of the day. The image of Raleekah with her sensual style of dancing overpowered all of her other recollections of the day. She silently cursed herself, angry with the way that things had gone with Nikky. She hated coming across as a feeble idiot who cowers in the face of confrontations. Tomorrow, she would be better. She would finally tell Nikky that she didn’t approve of Raleekah’s provocative demeanour. The more she thought about it, the more it angered her. What she hadn’t thought about however, (simply because she didn’t know), was the fact that almost every day after school, when Raleekah arrived at home, this Uncle Clive of hers would be waiting in the living room of their tatty – looking apartment. Today would be no exemption.