by John Wallis
***
Yesterday had been an awful day. a day when tensions and emotions had over ruled common sense.
It had been a little over a year since her father moved away. At first, it had been for a few weeks while the divorce went through, later it had become more permanent. Madeline was a self-confessed daddy's girl. So it felt odd that her father had left her at home. A home that was unrecognizable to what it had been before. Her mother Wendy ran a tight ship. There was no nonsense allowed which was unfair because Madeline liked nonsense. It was the best kind of sense. She wondered how anyone could not like a little nonsense now and again?
Chloe for once hated nonsense. Chloe was Madeline's younger sister. The reason Madeline never mentioned her much was that she has not actually much of a sister more a clone of their mother. Madeline's mother and sister did so much together that they practically ran the woman's institute and the local church. The many coffee mornings and committee meetings left Madeline home alone for the majority the time. So being immature and insensible she began doing things to purposely annoy the do-good duo as much and as often as she possibly could. However, her mother and Chloe simply labeled these rebellious acts a phase. Chloe was a twelve year old who would happily tell her friends that her sister was going through a phase, as odd as that sounds.
Looking at her life from the room with no doors Madeline knew that she was just upset. But yesterday there had been a lot of upsets.
She had come home from school and headed straight for her room. But the usual safe area did not save her this particular evening. Chloe appeared right away to greet her.
"Mother is not very happy with you," there was a degree of almost snitch worthy happiness in Chloe's voice.
Madeline decided she did not want to deal with whatever it was her mother wanted today and shut the door without reply. Turned out her moody door slamming show was that one-step too far.
"Maddie open this door. Open it this instance," came her mother’s voice.
The door flung open and her mother stood in the doorway. Not such an intimidating figure, she was wearing more makeup than Bozo the clown and her hair had done so many rounds with the curling tongs that it looked like a judge’s wig.
"You did not make those jam tarts, remember? They were for this evening."
Madeline shrugged. She had not forgotten the jam tarts; she had just never agreed to make them to begin with. She had been volunteered to make them. Making that point would be pointless, as her mother would hear nothing off it.
"Well," the war painted eyebrows moved up and froze waiting for a response.
"What am I going to tell Jean when I turn up with no tarts?"
Madeline could have suggested a number of things her mother tells Jean. None of which she could bring herself to say aloud. So she did what most girls did at her age, shrugged and made out she wasn't all that bothered. Which wasn't hard because she really did not care about Jean's tarts.
Then the argument truly started.
"Look at Chloe. You see how much she helps us all? And she is younger than you. Really, there is no excuse Madeline, I won't have this laziness any longer."
"Good for Chloe," Madeline responded quickly and out of anger and she had to admit a little jealousy.
"You need to grow up Madeline. You waste far too much of your time with your head up in the clouds. Keep chasing dreams, Madeline and you will end up just like him. Going from one thing to another and never really sticking to anything."
"NEVER speak about my father like that," Madeline said sternly as she stormed across to her bed almost knocking her mother into the corner. Madeline's mother looked broken and for a moment, Madeline felt a little concerned despite herself.
“It doesn't have to be like this all the time,” came, her mother’s low voice.
“I liked that you and your father had your storybooks, it was nice. Because the lord above knows I was never able to get through to you.”
Madeline allowed her mother to take her hand.
“You just have to get used to the facts now. Your father has gone and I am not the wicked witch you make me out to be.”
Madeline allowed herself a smile.
“You realize we just fell out over jam tarts right? That is kind of like one of my storybooks.”
Her mother let out an exhausted sigh.
“I am sure it is,” she said sounding weary.
“Madeline, I am worried about you. You don't have enough of a grip on what is important. Your sister just won a beauty contest. She goes out with friends, and has a life beyond books.”
Madeline shot her mother an evil look making it clear she was not happy with the comparisons her mother constantly made- another nugget of friction between them.
Finally, her mother left the room leaving Madeline alone.
Happy for the peace she lay on the bed and for a while enjoyed the silence. She got to thinking. Her mother was not a bad person. They just had very little in common with each other. Neither of them was truly at fault for that but it did mean their personalities clashed regularly.
She reached for one of her books but not having the energy put it back down again. On the side was a magazine her sister had left. The glossy kind you often see free with the newspaper. A quote popped in her head.
When I became an adult, I put away childish things
She put the book of fairy tales under her bed, took the magazine and flicked through the pages wondering how people read this. The fashion models all looked scarily unreal, like they were mannequins. The rest were horror-scopes and supposed real life stories. There was more making believe in the pages of the glossy magazine than in any of her fairy tales.
Suddenly, she noticed from the corner of her eye a cake and a cup of tea left on the bedside table. While she had been looking at the magazine, her mother must have come back with a piece offering. Odd as her mother did not usually approve of too many sweets or cakes. Madeline hoped for a moment that her mother was feeling nice and guilty. There was a familiar note with the cake. It read eat me.
Could her mother have read Alice's adventures in wonderland after all?
Perhaps this was her mother’s way of making it up with her?
Both assumptions could be very wishful thinking. But she was hungry so she took a bite of the cake- Raspberry sponge. Everything tasted normal. Apart from a big old wooden door appeared in the corner. Madeline decided against calling for her mother or sister. Explaining that she thought there was a big wooden door in her room could make her mother a little more worried about her. Besides, she felt oddly relieved to see the door.
