Milly's Treat, by Peter Morford

   My wife Sally, our son Tom, his wife, Lorna, and their little daughter, Milly. are in the afternoon sun, watching the traffic go by. Across the road is the wide beach at low-tide.

   Sally winks at me and I know what she’s thinking. “How nice it is to be relaxed grandparents seeing the world through the eyes of a child who’s five today.”

   We order wine. What would Milly like?

   Her face lights up. “I want a Kickerboxer story.” A pause. “Please.”

   “You mean a knickerbocker glory.”

   “That’s what I said, “Kickerboxer story.”

   When the waiter returns with his tray Milly is puzzled. She looks at her treat on the table.

   “It’s too high. I can’t reach it,” she says. Without a word the waiter goes away to collect cushions. Tom grunts with the enormous effort of hoisting the laughing Milly onto her perch. She nibbles the cherry, gurgling with pleasure. We see her mind working, Which next? A probe with the long spoon. A tentative lick, A nod of approval. Like a miner hunting for treasure she eventually reaches the bottom, scrapes the last drop of goodness and carefully licks her spoon. I half- expect her to ask for another one but instead she wants to get back into the sea.

   We’re ready to go. Milly leads the way between the parked cars. Lorna shouts “Milly: stop,” but the child carries on. She’s in the road now. Tom hurries but Lorna runs. The chase is part of her fun.

   A car’s coming. In slow motion I watch the girl stop in the road. The car comes on, there’s a scream of fright from mother and daughter, then a thud. The car stops and Milly’s underneath, screaming. I can only see her head. The driver jumps out, leaving the engine running, saying something I couldn't understand. 

   A crowd gathers and I could hear snatches of shocked words. The car was speeding.. No the child didn’t give him time. Someone get an ambulance. Call the police!

   A man pushes through. On hands and knees he says “She’s between the wheels. Back the car very slowly.” The driver edges back and the stranger carefully checks for injuries. There’s the welcome scream of the approaching ambulance.

   The para-medic examines her and agrees there doesn’t appear to be anything broken but he would take her to the hospital for XRays. Her parents could travel with her and we old folk would have to find a taxi.

   At the hospital we wait anxiously for what seems like hours. We hardly speak, our minds full of fear. What if….?

   At last Tom , Lorna and Milly come out. Milly is dancing. “They took pictures of me and stuck a needle into my arm and I didn’t cry and they gave me a sweet and this.”

   It’s a card “Congratulations! you’re fit!”

   Tom croaks, “Don’t run away again. I’m going to keep you on a string. It’s called a rein.”