Barbara Smith

She was spoilt from the word go. I think someone cast a spell over my dad the day she was born because, to him, she could do no wrong, he idolised her. Don't get me wrong, he loved all three of us, but Cindy had a special place in his heart that blinded him to all her faults. And she was a quick learner, she sized up the situation before she could even talk. In fact I'm amazed she even learned to talk, she only had to point to something and daddy would run and get it for her.

He couldn't bear to see her unhappy, so much so that soon the household seemed to revolve completely around her. It all got too much for mum. She ran off with the gardener when Cindy was three. I think it had got to a point where she would have run off with the hunchback of Notre Dame if he had offered, she just wanted out.

Things got worse after she left. Poor dad, he had lost mum and he clung onto Cindy as if she was his lifebelt. Cindy of course made the most of the situation. My sister Sharon and I went through a resentful stage of course, but it made no difference and over the years we came to accept the way things were.

When Cindy was sixteen she started on at dad about wanting a car. Dad promised that she would have one on her seventeenth birthday, when she would legally be able to drive it. The trouble was that Cindy didn't want just any car, she wanted dad's Bentley. I would catch her sometimes, lying across the bonnet, stroking the paintwork with a dreamy look in her eyes.

At school Cindy was in with a pretty wild crowd, if the gossip about them was true, some of their exploits left a lot to be desired. Sharon and I tried to talk to dad about it, but it was useless. She was his princess and in his eyes, she was perfect.

The night that it all blew up, Cindy had been in town with her cronies. She wasn't any stranger to alcohol, but this night they had been experimenting with cocktails. By the time she and the creep she was with reach the house, she was high as a kite. The Bentley was parked in the driveway and seeing it must have given her the idea. None of us had heard her creep into the house and take the keys from the hall table. Sharon heard the engine start up, but by the time she got to the door the car was screeching down the road. It didn't take the police long to start following the Bentley as it lurched its way along the main street. Cindy must have caught sight of them in the mirror and decided to outrun them. Anyway, to cut a long story short, after a ninety mile an hour chase, she ended up wrapping the car around a tree and, would you believe it, walking away unscathed.

I have never seen dad so angry. I suppose he was thinking about what could have happened to her. Once he got her home he told her that she was grounded for a month. Cindy went through her entire repertoire, from tears to pleas, but this time dad stuck to his guns.

What must have spurred her on to keep trying was the thought of the big rock concert at the exhibition building. It was booked for the following weekend and Prince Sinbad and the Pirates would be playing. For the rest of that week, Cindy transformed herself into dutiful daughter. Sharon and I sniggered as we watched her volunteer for everything, from washing up to scrubbing the kitchen floor. Every now and again she would look at dad with her sad baby blue eyes, but the answer was still no.

I suppose we should have realised that Cindy was not the type to lose out, that she was bound to have a trick up her sleeve, but Sharon and I were too excited about the concert to give it much thought. Dad was going to the annual golf club dinner. He left around seven, calling out that he would be back by midnight. Sharon and I set off about ten minutes later, dolled up to the nines and ready to boogie all night.

Cindy must have gone into action the minute we left. First she phoned Sue Fairymum, one of her obnoxious friends and got her to bring over all the trendy gear stowed at her house. They had everything but transport to take them to the gig, but they had already thought that one out.

Sue had an admirer, his name was Stanley but everyone called him Button, because of his snub nose. Anyway, Button was assistant manager at a big car dealership and he had agreed to surreptitiously borrow a Rolls from the showroom and drive them down. They made their entrance just as the Prince was launching into his first number.

Cindy pushed her way to the front of the stage. She made sure the Prince had a good view of her in the slinky silver mini that fitted her like a second skin. I looked over to see if Sharon had spotted her. She had and was shaking her head in amazement. As soon as his stint on stage was finished Prince made a bee line for Cindy.

To the envy of all the other girls, she spent the rest of the night draped around his neck. Just before midnight, there was a bit of a commotion at the bar. I saw Cindy pushing her way through the crowd towards the exit. Prince was chasing after her calling out for her to wait.

The next morning I found out that she had arrived home about five minutes before dad. So he was blissfully unaware that his darling had disobeyed him and quite unprepared for what happened next.

On the programme this afternoon, she had made it sound so romantic. How she had had to dash away to get home before her cruel father, who never allowed her any enjoyment and would have beaten her had he found out. In her haste she had dropped one of her shoes . How Prince had found it and spent days searching for her.

Well, it's true that she left one of the shoes behind, but not by accident. She also forgot to mention that inside the shoe was a card containing her phone number. Prince rang her first thing next morning and she had sneaked off to meet him while dad was playing golf. He told her that the group had been offered a recording contract and they were tipped to make millions. That was enough for Cindy. They eloped to Gretna Green two days later. Poor dad was devastated, convinced that she had been taken advantage of.

Well, Prince and the Pirates didn't ever make it really big, they were mediocre at best and the millions never materialised. Cindy soon got through what money there was then divorced Prince and sold her story to the papers. When she realised how much money the press were prepared to pay for that kind of story, she decided to make a career out of it. I have lost count. I can't remember whether she has just got rid of her forth or her fifth, each one richer and more powerful than the last. But she is really going for the big time now. They were interviewing her this afternoon to ask if there was any truth in the rumours about her and the American President.

I can't wait to ring Sharon.