There's a little girl swinging next to Little A. They've been playing together for the last half hour.
She looks at me, backwards and forwards, wide-eyed and curious. Then she turns to her daddy...
"She's got red things on her cheeks."
Daddy shuffles, he's on the spot, a silent smile appeasing his daughter's enquiring mind.
He doesn't answer. We both know what she's talking about.
It cannot, must not be mentioned.
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