In the lavish world of 1970s high society, Madeline, once a poor relation, captivates the attention of a politician's son. Their story takes a sharp turn when Madeleine, now pregnant and abandoned, concocts a husband, Bill Shakespeare, to shield her...
I liked Madeline immediately. How could I not, when, after a rather stressful day, I came back to the hotel to find my socially awkward son laughing and actually talking with her, without any embarrassment?
They hadn't seen me come in. Simon was attempting to teach Madeline chess. Apparently, she was a woeful player. Their interaction was a joy to watch...
"W-wow, you're truly a-a-a-ab-b-b-b-bish-m-m-mal"
"Abysmal?"
"Yeah, that."
Madeline snorted. "You could've just said, bad, you know."
"I-I-I think I sound d-dumb when I c-cant say bigger words. What d-d-does the arse suggest?"
Madeline guffawed. "Simon, that's rude!"
"Well, I c-c-can't say the whole w-word."
"How about dinosaur dictionary?" Madeline suggested. "Get it? Thesaurus sounds like a type of dinosaur."
"D-d-dino-s-saur d-d-d-dic..." Simon doubled over with laughter. "N-no n-not much better."
I couldn't believe it. Instead of getting frustrated and leaving the room, because he couldn't get his words out, Simon was actually amused by it.
Madeline noticed me first. She stopped laughing and stood up abruptly. A red and black hard cover book fell from her lap. I recognised the cover -- Roget's Thesaurus, the pocket version.
We both bent to pick it up at the same time, and butted heads. "Oh, I'm so sorry," we said, together.
"Dad!" After a greeting that sounded more like a chastisement, Simon helped Madeline to her feet. "Are y-y-you hurt, Madeline?"
"Only my pride." She chuckled. "But, I have a metal clip in my hair, your father's the one you should be worried about. I'm really sorry, Uncle Stirling. Are you okay?"
"A sense of humour and a caring nature. What a sweet child you are, Madeline."
"Thank you, sir." Madeline blushed. "I hope I didn't hurt you."
"You didn't, sweetheart. Thank you for keeping Simon company, although, Didi was supposed to stay with him... Simon, where is your mother, and your sister?"
"I-I-I dunno. Edith snuck out when I-I-I was in the b-bathroom. Mum w-w-went to look for her."
"WHAT?"
Simon shrugged. "I t-t-t-told mum to look in the bar."
"SIMON!"
"B-bet she's there, trying to look all so-so-sophisticated."
"What time did your mother leave, Simon?"
"D-dunno, p-p-pretty much as soon as she a-a-arived. 'Bout three I think."
"You mean to tell me that you've both been left here alone, for the past two hours?"
"D-dad, I'm f-f-f-fourteen. I'm not a k-k-kid anymore. I can look after myself, and M-Madeline."
With her hands on her hips, Madeline added, "I don't need you to look after me, Simon Peacock! I was catching the bus on my own when I was nine, and by the time I was eleven, I could cook and clean the whole house by myself."
"T-t-there you go. See, dad? C-cousin M-Madeline is a-a-a most c-c-capable woman."
Madeline giggled. "Well, I'm not quite a woman yet..."
"Maybe n-n-not, but you're p-p-probably a whole lot m-m-more m-mature than Didiot!"
"Don't call your sister that, Simon." Of course I had to correct him, though personally, I agreed with his assessment of the situation. From what I'd seen so far, Madeline had a good head on her shoulders, and her addition to our family might be a Godsend.
The front door handle rattled. Odette entered carrying a pair of heels, one of which was broken. She was followed closely by a burly porter, who carried Edith in his arms. He laid her on the sofa. Odette slipped him a fiver. "For your trouble," she murmured.
"Thank you, madam. Your daughter should be all right. I'm sure it's just a sprain." Turning back towards the sofa, he addressed Edith personally. "Keep your foot elevated, young lady."
"If you insist." Edith raised her entire leg and winked at him, prompting Odette to slap the back of her head with her gloves. "Ow, mum! Can't you see I'm in pain?"
Odette bent down to whisper in Edith's ear. "If you don't keep your legs together, you'll be in even more pain, you brazen hussy!" she snarled.
To his credit, the porter remained professional. "I'll send up a bucket of ice," he said, before departing.
When he was gone, it was time to address the elephant in the room. "Simon, why don't you show Madeline where the restaurant is? We'll be down shortly."
"B-b-but I want to w-watch you spiflicate Didi."
Madeline gave him a suspicious look. "You can say spiflicate, yet you struggle with abysmal?"
Odette folded her arms and glared at her. I could see she was furious, that Madeline would speak to Simon like that, or at all, for that matter. Luckily, Simon spoke up -- again.
"I-I-I've had lots of p-p-p-practice with that word, M-Madeline. You see, Didiot is in c-c-constant need of spiflication."
"Are you going to let him speak to me like that?" Edith whined.
I'd had enough of her escapades. "Yes I am, Edith, because it's true."
"B-b-but Daddy." Edith began to blubber.
"Don't you, 'but Daddy,' me!"
"Um, Simon, I think we should go..."
Again, Madeline showed an emotional intelligence that belied her age. Once she'd ushered Simon outside, I let loose... Rightly or wrongly, the decisions I made that evening would impact both Simon and Madeline, as well as Edith.
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Author's Note:
The fiver ($5 note), that Odette gave the porter, is the equivalent of about $77 today. In 1968, $77 would've fed more than a dozen people.
