Post by Madeleine Baudelaire&Russ Ford on Jul 10, 2008 20:33:47 GMT
The train shuddered to a halt at the last stop outside Longbourn West, the last stop before Lylis Glen.
“And about bloody time too,” Russ muttered gruffly. “I’m dying for a smoke.”
“You should really give that up sometime soon,” Madeleine replied, slightly dreamily, looking out at the broad-leaved foliage that signalled the start of the trip into her ‘hometown’.
Well, she didn’t really have a hometown, but Lylis Glen had always been her favourite site. She’d been born in Lylis, her grandmother lived there, and her last memories of Shaun were held there…
Which was really as much of a reason to hate the place as to love it.
Turning her eyes away from the leafy glades, she studied her cousin for a moment. Today, any trace of good nature had been removed from his appearance, his lower face twisted into a scowl; eyes black as coal. This could be attributed to Madeleine’s reminder of smoking being bad, or the fact that he couldn’t smoke at the minute, but she doubted it. He’d been like this since they’d walked down to Cardsdale train station, early at 5 o’clock this morning. Knowing that it would be his last smoke for a good seven hours, he’d puffed (and huffed too, come to think of it) like the big bad wolf, but even then he’d been in a bad mood, and wouldn’t tell her why.
“If I want to kill myself slowly, I’ll kill myself slowly,” he said, predicting her words before she’d said them. “They’re just cigarettes.”
“Your lungs must be black.”
“Probably.”
“Just like your heart,” she smirked, tucking her legs underneath her on the padded train seat, waiting to see if he’d smile back.
He didn’t. “I guess a lot of people would agree with that,” he said darkly, after a pause.
Madeleine frowned. “What do you mean?”
The train slowly juttered into moving again, inching its way slowly along the track.
”Nothin’.”
She sighed. It wouldn’t be any use pushing the matter. The train started to move properly now, pushing along past the forests again. It was just after midday, and the sun was high above them in the sky. The weather seemed to be behaving itself nicely these days, avoiding the typical rainy summer. It’d probably start to pour soon enough, though.
Not that it’d affect Russ. Russ was only here for the day, before heading over to Spain with Imogen. They’d lived there for a short while, and Imogen thought that it would be nice to travel around Catalonia for a while, visiting some of their old friends. Russ thought rather less of the idea, though he hadn’t hidden his relief that he’d be living the travelling life properly during the break.
Lucky bugger, Madeleine thought enviously. Imogen and Russ had no ties, no one to visit, no one to stay with. Of course, Madeleine loved Madga, and loved visiting her, but after spending a year in the same place… she was feeling decidedly homesick for her former life.
There was suddenly a gap in the trees, and Madeleine could see the clear river that ran through the area, its surface bubbling and gurgling –
Bang.
“Aw, bollocks!” The fish slipped away and Shaun nearly toppled into river, losing his balance, feet slipping on the bank as Madeleine laughed.
She shook her head swiftly, feeling sick. This was going to happen a lot, she could tell now. It had happened at Christmas, but she’d been too wrapped up in her own head to really pay attention to it.
Now, she knew that it was going to sting.
That forest came back now, and Madeleine focused on the jewel-like leaves, trying not to remember other memories.
Racing up trees.
Skinning leaves.
Quickly, Madeleine looked back at Russ, who had turned back to his mp3 player disinterestedly, trying not to focus on his need for nicotine. “Looking forward to this?”
He looked up, pausing his music. “Huh?”
“The holidays; looking forward to them?”
Russ shrugged. “Sure. It’s good to get out of prison.”
Prison. He’d taken to calling Orchid Hill that recently, and really bugged Madeleine with it.
“Come on, Russ, it’s not that bad.”
He rolled his eyes. “It’s not, no, but no matter how good it is, it’s still four stone walls. I’ll never like that.”
“I said that too.”
“Yeah, you’ve changed a lot.”
She bridled a little at that, but knew it was true. Russ just made it sound like a bad thing. “Maybe you’ll change too.”
He laughed at that, shaking his dark head, but a bit of concern lay underneath his black irises. “Nah, won’t ever happen. I’ll always be-”
Madeleine started at him curiously. “Be what?”
“Nothin’.”
“Come on, spit.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s never nothing.”
He ignored her, pressing the play button again and turning it up, so Madeleine could hear the heavy drum beat from the earphones.
“You’ll wreck your ears,” she muttered, but it was futile. He couldn’t hear her anyway.
It riled her more than it should, really. It hadn’t had that effect before, possibly because she was just as bad.
Still, she’d be left with nothing but optimism once he left tomorrow.
They were only a few minutes away from the stop now, so Madeleine switched on her iPod and leaned back against the seat.
So keep the blood in your head
And keep your feet on the ground-
“You know the guy who works at the newsagents just outside Cardsdale?”
It took her a minute to register the words over the sounds of Brand New, but she frowned at him. “Sure, you mean Paul?”
“No, the other one. Older guy, beard, bad temper?”
It took her a minute, but she got there eventually. “Nicholas.”
“Yeah, him. He threw a girl out of the newsagents for flicking through a magazine yesterday.”
Her frown became even deeper now as she stared at him. “Oh? What did she do?”
“Nothing at all.”
“Really? I know he doesn’t like teenagers, but that’s not like him. Why’s it bugging you?”
“She was a traveller.”
So that was it. That’s what had been bugging him. “Oh.”
“Oh yeah,” he said, obviously frustrated. “She was just looking at the contents page, and he threw her out, because she was apparently going to steal it. He said to one of the one of the customers, after yelling at her – ‘They’re all the f*cking same,’ ” Russ’ low guttural tongue mimicked Nicholas’ harsh voice perfectly. “ ‘These travellers.” His tongue curled around the word, making it sound like a foreign, exotic curse word. “Thieving, underhand rats. You can’t trust any of that scum.”
Madeleine looked at him, concerned, but as always, feeling the sting underneath. “You’ve heard worse, Russ,” she said quietly.
“I know,” he said, looking down. “It’s not that.”
“So what is it?”
“I just left.”
Madeleine frowned. “What?”
He looked ashamed, and Madeleine bit her lip. “I just walked out. I didn’t say anything, I didn’t stick up for us-”
“Oh, Russ-”
“I guess I am changing,” he said bitterly. “I’ve always defended us. I should have defended her too, at the time, but I just stayed there, like a f*cking idiot.”
“Russ, it’s not your fault. What else could you do? He’d have reported you, and you’d have been expelled-”
“Yeah, but since when did I ever care about what’d happen?”
The train creaked, and once again slowly stammered to a stop.
The electronic voice sounded through the train. “Lylis Glen.”
Russ shook his head and stood up, picking up his bag. Madeleine followed suit, thinking over what he’d said.
Persecution like that; it happened all the time, particularly to teenagers, especially in shops and places like that. It just did. And everything happened more than once, usually. Often there was a sense of déjà vu about it all. They faced insults all the time – and not just teenagers. It was no secret that several of the people in Magda’s book club really hated Madeleine’s dad for being what he was, and refused to speak to him if he was in the house. Madeleine had heard the discussions that came after those incidences. They were nice enough to her, but Madeleine knew that that was only because she was related to Magda by blood.
But one incident like that shouldn’t bother Russ like that. After all, Russ himself had faced worse… Madeleine’s hand automatically went to her shoulder, touching the place where the scar was. They’d both been there, both of them. Madeleine knew that he hadn’t forgotten. He could still see the glass, see the flames…
But now wasn’t the time to talk about it. She followed him off the train, spotting her dad and Imogen – blonde with striking green eyes, open and sweet, the exact opposite of her sun – talking.
Russ made a beeline over to them, slipping his cigarettes out of his pockets and lighting up, sighing and looking visibly relieved as he inhaled.
Stephen Baudelaire caught Madeleine’s eyes as she rolled them at Russ, and laughed. “Hey, Madeleine.”
“Hi Dad,” she grinned, reaching up to hug him and putting all the thoughts she’d just had behind her.
“Still no taller, I see,” he smirked, taking her bag from her.
“Oh, you’re funny,” Madeleine said, with another roll of her eyes, glancing over at Imogen. She looked better than she had before, after Oliver had left, but she still looked tired, and the conversation she was having with Russ was suitably strained. It really wasn’t any wonder, though. After Russ’ dismissal, she wasn’t really in his good books.
“How’s it going, Russ?” her dad said, nodding to him.
“Not too bad, thanks,” Russ said, exhaling a long stream of bluish smoke. “Glad to be away from Madel’s tyranny.”
Her dad frowned at her, looking at her with a mixture of confusion and disappointment. “She’s a tyrant?”
“Busts everyone’s balls.” Only Russ would speak like that in front of her dad about her – they’d always gotten along well, even before Russ realised Stephen was his uncle.
“This true, Madeleine?” Stephen asked as Imogen laughed, the tinkling carefree laugh that no one had heard from her in a while. Russ was visibly taken aback.
Madeleine grinned. “Yes, sir.”
“That’s m’girl,” he chuckled, ruffling her hair. Stephen Baudelaire’s accent was a lot thicker than Madeleine’s, but it was still impossible to place, a mixture of many different accents picked up in childhood. It was unusual, anyway, but easily understandable except when he got angry. Then his accent became very thick and sometimes certain words sounded like another language, very difficult to understand.
She laughed, looking about her. “Where’s mum?”
“Back at the site,” he said, slinging her bag over his shoulder. “We only got there an hour ago. She’s unpacking the china so that you don’t have to do anything when you get there.”
“Fair enough,” Madeleine grinned. That bloody china. Many gypsies collected a type of china called Crown Derby, and Stephen had inherited a lot of valuable pieces from his mother. Although he was usually very traditional, he didn’t much like the beautifully patterned china, and had been wanting to sell the pieces off for years. Rhiannon, however, wasn’t so keen on the idea of selling it, and insisted on wrapping it up in a million layers every time they moved. Of course, a few layers made sense, but when it goes to paper to bubblewrap to paper to more bubblewrap to more paper and etc., until finally wrapping it a thick blanket, it was just time-wasting. The attempts to sell the china on had become more vehement lately, seeing as neither Madeleine nor Shaun were there to help unpack it. And it wasn’t even as though it was put on display or anything, it just sat in the cupboard!
Her dad was saying something to Imogen, and Madeleine turned to them, breaking away from the thoughts.
“… so we’ll see you later, then?” he was saying.
“We’ll be up for a few hours; our flight isn’t until late tonight.”
Only Madeleine saw Russ’ grimace as he stamped out his cigarette, and she smiled back wryly. As they left, Madeleine reached up on her toes (the guy was so friggin’ tall) and hugged him.
“What the f*ck?!” he spluttered, almost stepping back in shock. “You don’t do hugs!”
Madeleine grinned for a second, before muttering. “Don’t think about it Russ. There was nothing you could have said; it’s not worth it.”
He froze, before hugging her tightly. “Yeah, it’s not, but it doesn’t help.”
She stepped back – even concern didn’t stop the fact that she really wasn’t a huggy person – and smiled sympathetically.
“Ready to go, Madeleine?” her dad asked, impatiently waiting. It was a running family trait.
“Sure sure,” she said. “See you at school, Russ. Give up the cigarettes.”
“Hell no,” he retorted, with a grin. “Adiós, señora.”
She frowned. “Don’t you mean ‘señorita’? I’m not married yet!”
“No, I mean señora, and I know you’re not married. You’re still a señora.”
For having lived in Spain, Russ’ Spanish was really, really crap.
“Alright then,” she grinned, turning and following her dad.
Stephen took the keys to the car out of his jeans pocket as they approached it, and tossed them at Madeleine. "You want to drive?"
She grinned as she caught them with one hand, but threw them back, shaking her head. It was only a five minute long drive, on a clear road, but something was telling Madeleine it wasn't a good idea. "No, thanks."
"You sure?" He seemed surprised. As well he should be. He'd been teaching Madeleine to drive for a very, very long time - in total secret from her mum, of course. Rhiannon would have a fit.
But Shaun had taught her some. Shaun would come with her while she practiced, always offering hints, always ready to take over in the event of difficulty.
And of course, with Shaun's power - as much as it had cost him, it was a good one - it wasn't like she could ever get lost.
"I think I've forgotten," she laughed.
It was a lie. Of course she hadn't forgotten. A-B-C. Accelerator, Brake, Clutch. It was the simplest thing in the world. Madeleine knew perfectly well how to drive.
"You never forget," he said, truthfully, still surprised. It wasn't like her to turn the offer down.
"Maybe, but I have been sitting down for seven hours. I'm not sure my feet will work too well," she said, laughing again.
Stephen shrugged, pressing the button to unlock the car, and Madeleine slid in as he threw her bag into the back of the car. "Last chance?"
"I'm good," she said, relaxing back in the seat and switching the radio on.
Stephen’s style of driving was a little different to Madeleine’s, she reflected as they chatted. She held the wheel with both hands, he steered with one muscled arm, the other hand resting near the gears. His way of driving was very smooth, as though car and driver were one person.
He drove like Shaun. Or maybe it was the other way round.
“Warriors behaving themselves alright?” he was asking.
She smiled. “Oh, they always do. Well… no, that’s a lie.”
He laughed.
“They’re doing well, they’re a brilliant team. I couldn’t do it with any other people, I really couldn’t. It helps that we get on, and they trust me – I’ve no idea why, though!”
“You underestimate yourself.”
“Nope, they overestimate me. Russ’ll tell you what I’m really like as a Head!”
“You’d be surprised,” he smirked. “He sent me quite a complimentary email about you.”
If Madeleine had something in her hands, it would have been dropped.
“Bull.”
“No, seriously!” he laughed. “You underestimate him, too.”
Madeleine shook her head, turning up the radio.
“So are you nervous yet?” he asked genially.
“About?”
“Lee’s coming over.”
Dámn straight.
“Should I be nervous?” she asked, a little apprehensively.
“Maybe.” His brown eyes gleamed.
“Dad,” she said, sharply. “What did you do?”
He feigned innocence. “Me? I didn’t do anything.”
“Thank Christ you weren’t a Spy. We’d have had no hope.”
Stephen laughed a lot at that. A lot. “Alright, okay. Your mum and I invited a couple of people up.”
“How many is a couple?” she asked suspiciously. Magda had said that too, and she usually tended to understate or exaggerate as the situation called for.
He told her, and her jaw dropped.
“Dad!”
“Relax,” he said hastily. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. The Sorleys, the Shaws, the Zusaks, the McCourts… come on, they’re like family. You can’t not let them see you. And besides, most of them are only coming up for one night. They want to throw a party.”
“A party.”
Please, God, no. Her dad was right, those people were family. She’d grown up with them – maybe not all at the one time, but still – and she’d love them to be there; she missed them. But Madeleine didn’t think she could deal with being in the centre of attention for a party. Especially not if Magda and her mum were involved in planning…
“Not that kind of party,” he said quickly, reading her thoughts. “Just a casual get-together, that’s all. No food, no balloons, none of that crap. Remember what we would do sometimes, with a fire and just general chatting? That’s it. A lot of them haven’t seen each for a long while either. That’s all it is.”
Oh. Well, that sounded an awful lot better.
“That sounds great,” she said, and was surprised to find that she meant it. Still, she turned up the radio a little louder as the song finished.
The guitar introduction of this song sounded painfully familiar, and Madeleine frowned as she tried to remember it.
“Friday night, I’m going nowhere, all the lights are changing-”
Babylon, by David Grey.
It was a familiar song, she’d listened to it a lot before-
Bang.
She was in the passenger seat, the windows were down, and Shaun was driving, just like their dad, singing along at the top of his lungs to the song.
Madeleine’s fingers hit the ‘off’ button suddenly, switching the song off as a wave of mild pain swept over her.
Yeah, this was going to happen a lot.
“And about bloody time too,” Russ muttered gruffly. “I’m dying for a smoke.”
“You should really give that up sometime soon,” Madeleine replied, slightly dreamily, looking out at the broad-leaved foliage that signalled the start of the trip into her ‘hometown’.
Well, she didn’t really have a hometown, but Lylis Glen had always been her favourite site. She’d been born in Lylis, her grandmother lived there, and her last memories of Shaun were held there…
Which was really as much of a reason to hate the place as to love it.
Turning her eyes away from the leafy glades, she studied her cousin for a moment. Today, any trace of good nature had been removed from his appearance, his lower face twisted into a scowl; eyes black as coal. This could be attributed to Madeleine’s reminder of smoking being bad, or the fact that he couldn’t smoke at the minute, but she doubted it. He’d been like this since they’d walked down to Cardsdale train station, early at 5 o’clock this morning. Knowing that it would be his last smoke for a good seven hours, he’d puffed (and huffed too, come to think of it) like the big bad wolf, but even then he’d been in a bad mood, and wouldn’t tell her why.
“If I want to kill myself slowly, I’ll kill myself slowly,” he said, predicting her words before she’d said them. “They’re just cigarettes.”
“Your lungs must be black.”
“Probably.”
“Just like your heart,” she smirked, tucking her legs underneath her on the padded train seat, waiting to see if he’d smile back.
He didn’t. “I guess a lot of people would agree with that,” he said darkly, after a pause.
Madeleine frowned. “What do you mean?”
The train slowly juttered into moving again, inching its way slowly along the track.
”Nothin’.”
She sighed. It wouldn’t be any use pushing the matter. The train started to move properly now, pushing along past the forests again. It was just after midday, and the sun was high above them in the sky. The weather seemed to be behaving itself nicely these days, avoiding the typical rainy summer. It’d probably start to pour soon enough, though.
Not that it’d affect Russ. Russ was only here for the day, before heading over to Spain with Imogen. They’d lived there for a short while, and Imogen thought that it would be nice to travel around Catalonia for a while, visiting some of their old friends. Russ thought rather less of the idea, though he hadn’t hidden his relief that he’d be living the travelling life properly during the break.
Lucky bugger, Madeleine thought enviously. Imogen and Russ had no ties, no one to visit, no one to stay with. Of course, Madeleine loved Madga, and loved visiting her, but after spending a year in the same place… she was feeling decidedly homesick for her former life.
There was suddenly a gap in the trees, and Madeleine could see the clear river that ran through the area, its surface bubbling and gurgling –
Bang.
“Aw, bollocks!” The fish slipped away and Shaun nearly toppled into river, losing his balance, feet slipping on the bank as Madeleine laughed.
She shook her head swiftly, feeling sick. This was going to happen a lot, she could tell now. It had happened at Christmas, but she’d been too wrapped up in her own head to really pay attention to it.
Now, she knew that it was going to sting.
That forest came back now, and Madeleine focused on the jewel-like leaves, trying not to remember other memories.
Racing up trees.
Skinning leaves.
Quickly, Madeleine looked back at Russ, who had turned back to his mp3 player disinterestedly, trying not to focus on his need for nicotine. “Looking forward to this?”
He looked up, pausing his music. “Huh?”
“The holidays; looking forward to them?”
Russ shrugged. “Sure. It’s good to get out of prison.”
Prison. He’d taken to calling Orchid Hill that recently, and really bugged Madeleine with it.
“Come on, Russ, it’s not that bad.”
He rolled his eyes. “It’s not, no, but no matter how good it is, it’s still four stone walls. I’ll never like that.”
“I said that too.”
“Yeah, you’ve changed a lot.”
She bridled a little at that, but knew it was true. Russ just made it sound like a bad thing. “Maybe you’ll change too.”
He laughed at that, shaking his dark head, but a bit of concern lay underneath his black irises. “Nah, won’t ever happen. I’ll always be-”
Madeleine started at him curiously. “Be what?”
“Nothin’.”
“Come on, spit.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s never nothing.”
He ignored her, pressing the play button again and turning it up, so Madeleine could hear the heavy drum beat from the earphones.
“You’ll wreck your ears,” she muttered, but it was futile. He couldn’t hear her anyway.
It riled her more than it should, really. It hadn’t had that effect before, possibly because she was just as bad.
Still, she’d be left with nothing but optimism once he left tomorrow.
They were only a few minutes away from the stop now, so Madeleine switched on her iPod and leaned back against the seat.
So keep the blood in your head
And keep your feet on the ground-
“You know the guy who works at the newsagents just outside Cardsdale?”
It took her a minute to register the words over the sounds of Brand New, but she frowned at him. “Sure, you mean Paul?”
“No, the other one. Older guy, beard, bad temper?”
It took her a minute, but she got there eventually. “Nicholas.”
“Yeah, him. He threw a girl out of the newsagents for flicking through a magazine yesterday.”
Her frown became even deeper now as she stared at him. “Oh? What did she do?”
“Nothing at all.”
“Really? I know he doesn’t like teenagers, but that’s not like him. Why’s it bugging you?”
“She was a traveller.”
So that was it. That’s what had been bugging him. “Oh.”
“Oh yeah,” he said, obviously frustrated. “She was just looking at the contents page, and he threw her out, because she was apparently going to steal it. He said to one of the one of the customers, after yelling at her – ‘They’re all the f*cking same,’ ” Russ’ low guttural tongue mimicked Nicholas’ harsh voice perfectly. “ ‘These travellers.” His tongue curled around the word, making it sound like a foreign, exotic curse word. “Thieving, underhand rats. You can’t trust any of that scum.”
Madeleine looked at him, concerned, but as always, feeling the sting underneath. “You’ve heard worse, Russ,” she said quietly.
“I know,” he said, looking down. “It’s not that.”
“So what is it?”
“I just left.”
Madeleine frowned. “What?”
He looked ashamed, and Madeleine bit her lip. “I just walked out. I didn’t say anything, I didn’t stick up for us-”
“Oh, Russ-”
“I guess I am changing,” he said bitterly. “I’ve always defended us. I should have defended her too, at the time, but I just stayed there, like a f*cking idiot.”
“Russ, it’s not your fault. What else could you do? He’d have reported you, and you’d have been expelled-”
“Yeah, but since when did I ever care about what’d happen?”
The train creaked, and once again slowly stammered to a stop.
The electronic voice sounded through the train. “Lylis Glen.”
Russ shook his head and stood up, picking up his bag. Madeleine followed suit, thinking over what he’d said.
Persecution like that; it happened all the time, particularly to teenagers, especially in shops and places like that. It just did. And everything happened more than once, usually. Often there was a sense of déjà vu about it all. They faced insults all the time – and not just teenagers. It was no secret that several of the people in Magda’s book club really hated Madeleine’s dad for being what he was, and refused to speak to him if he was in the house. Madeleine had heard the discussions that came after those incidences. They were nice enough to her, but Madeleine knew that that was only because she was related to Magda by blood.
But one incident like that shouldn’t bother Russ like that. After all, Russ himself had faced worse… Madeleine’s hand automatically went to her shoulder, touching the place where the scar was. They’d both been there, both of them. Madeleine knew that he hadn’t forgotten. He could still see the glass, see the flames…
But now wasn’t the time to talk about it. She followed him off the train, spotting her dad and Imogen – blonde with striking green eyes, open and sweet, the exact opposite of her sun – talking.
Russ made a beeline over to them, slipping his cigarettes out of his pockets and lighting up, sighing and looking visibly relieved as he inhaled.
Stephen Baudelaire caught Madeleine’s eyes as she rolled them at Russ, and laughed. “Hey, Madeleine.”
“Hi Dad,” she grinned, reaching up to hug him and putting all the thoughts she’d just had behind her.
“Still no taller, I see,” he smirked, taking her bag from her.
“Oh, you’re funny,” Madeleine said, with another roll of her eyes, glancing over at Imogen. She looked better than she had before, after Oliver had left, but she still looked tired, and the conversation she was having with Russ was suitably strained. It really wasn’t any wonder, though. After Russ’ dismissal, she wasn’t really in his good books.
“How’s it going, Russ?” her dad said, nodding to him.
“Not too bad, thanks,” Russ said, exhaling a long stream of bluish smoke. “Glad to be away from Madel’s tyranny.”
Her dad frowned at her, looking at her with a mixture of confusion and disappointment. “She’s a tyrant?”
“Busts everyone’s balls.” Only Russ would speak like that in front of her dad about her – they’d always gotten along well, even before Russ realised Stephen was his uncle.
“This true, Madeleine?” Stephen asked as Imogen laughed, the tinkling carefree laugh that no one had heard from her in a while. Russ was visibly taken aback.
Madeleine grinned. “Yes, sir.”
“That’s m’girl,” he chuckled, ruffling her hair. Stephen Baudelaire’s accent was a lot thicker than Madeleine’s, but it was still impossible to place, a mixture of many different accents picked up in childhood. It was unusual, anyway, but easily understandable except when he got angry. Then his accent became very thick and sometimes certain words sounded like another language, very difficult to understand.
She laughed, looking about her. “Where’s mum?”
“Back at the site,” he said, slinging her bag over his shoulder. “We only got there an hour ago. She’s unpacking the china so that you don’t have to do anything when you get there.”
“Fair enough,” Madeleine grinned. That bloody china. Many gypsies collected a type of china called Crown Derby, and Stephen had inherited a lot of valuable pieces from his mother. Although he was usually very traditional, he didn’t much like the beautifully patterned china, and had been wanting to sell the pieces off for years. Rhiannon, however, wasn’t so keen on the idea of selling it, and insisted on wrapping it up in a million layers every time they moved. Of course, a few layers made sense, but when it goes to paper to bubblewrap to paper to more bubblewrap to more paper and etc., until finally wrapping it a thick blanket, it was just time-wasting. The attempts to sell the china on had become more vehement lately, seeing as neither Madeleine nor Shaun were there to help unpack it. And it wasn’t even as though it was put on display or anything, it just sat in the cupboard!
Her dad was saying something to Imogen, and Madeleine turned to them, breaking away from the thoughts.
“… so we’ll see you later, then?” he was saying.
“We’ll be up for a few hours; our flight isn’t until late tonight.”
Only Madeleine saw Russ’ grimace as he stamped out his cigarette, and she smiled back wryly. As they left, Madeleine reached up on her toes (the guy was so friggin’ tall) and hugged him.
“What the f*ck?!” he spluttered, almost stepping back in shock. “You don’t do hugs!”
Madeleine grinned for a second, before muttering. “Don’t think about it Russ. There was nothing you could have said; it’s not worth it.”
He froze, before hugging her tightly. “Yeah, it’s not, but it doesn’t help.”
She stepped back – even concern didn’t stop the fact that she really wasn’t a huggy person – and smiled sympathetically.
“Ready to go, Madeleine?” her dad asked, impatiently waiting. It was a running family trait.
“Sure sure,” she said. “See you at school, Russ. Give up the cigarettes.”
“Hell no,” he retorted, with a grin. “Adiós, señora.”
She frowned. “Don’t you mean ‘señorita’? I’m not married yet!”
“No, I mean señora, and I know you’re not married. You’re still a señora.”
For having lived in Spain, Russ’ Spanish was really, really crap.
“Alright then,” she grinned, turning and following her dad.
Stephen took the keys to the car out of his jeans pocket as they approached it, and tossed them at Madeleine. "You want to drive?"
She grinned as she caught them with one hand, but threw them back, shaking her head. It was only a five minute long drive, on a clear road, but something was telling Madeleine it wasn't a good idea. "No, thanks."
"You sure?" He seemed surprised. As well he should be. He'd been teaching Madeleine to drive for a very, very long time - in total secret from her mum, of course. Rhiannon would have a fit.
But Shaun had taught her some. Shaun would come with her while she practiced, always offering hints, always ready to take over in the event of difficulty.
And of course, with Shaun's power - as much as it had cost him, it was a good one - it wasn't like she could ever get lost.
"I think I've forgotten," she laughed.
It was a lie. Of course she hadn't forgotten. A-B-C. Accelerator, Brake, Clutch. It was the simplest thing in the world. Madeleine knew perfectly well how to drive.
"You never forget," he said, truthfully, still surprised. It wasn't like her to turn the offer down.
"Maybe, but I have been sitting down for seven hours. I'm not sure my feet will work too well," she said, laughing again.
Stephen shrugged, pressing the button to unlock the car, and Madeleine slid in as he threw her bag into the back of the car. "Last chance?"
"I'm good," she said, relaxing back in the seat and switching the radio on.
Stephen’s style of driving was a little different to Madeleine’s, she reflected as they chatted. She held the wheel with both hands, he steered with one muscled arm, the other hand resting near the gears. His way of driving was very smooth, as though car and driver were one person.
He drove like Shaun. Or maybe it was the other way round.
“Warriors behaving themselves alright?” he was asking.
She smiled. “Oh, they always do. Well… no, that’s a lie.”
He laughed.
“They’re doing well, they’re a brilliant team. I couldn’t do it with any other people, I really couldn’t. It helps that we get on, and they trust me – I’ve no idea why, though!”
“You underestimate yourself.”
“Nope, they overestimate me. Russ’ll tell you what I’m really like as a Head!”
“You’d be surprised,” he smirked. “He sent me quite a complimentary email about you.”
If Madeleine had something in her hands, it would have been dropped.
“Bull.”
“No, seriously!” he laughed. “You underestimate him, too.”
Madeleine shook her head, turning up the radio.
“So are you nervous yet?” he asked genially.
“About?”
“Lee’s coming over.”
Dámn straight.
“Should I be nervous?” she asked, a little apprehensively.
“Maybe.” His brown eyes gleamed.
“Dad,” she said, sharply. “What did you do?”
He feigned innocence. “Me? I didn’t do anything.”
“Thank Christ you weren’t a Spy. We’d have had no hope.”
Stephen laughed a lot at that. A lot. “Alright, okay. Your mum and I invited a couple of people up.”
“How many is a couple?” she asked suspiciously. Magda had said that too, and she usually tended to understate or exaggerate as the situation called for.
He told her, and her jaw dropped.
“Dad!”
“Relax,” he said hastily. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. The Sorleys, the Shaws, the Zusaks, the McCourts… come on, they’re like family. You can’t not let them see you. And besides, most of them are only coming up for one night. They want to throw a party.”
“A party.”
Please, God, no. Her dad was right, those people were family. She’d grown up with them – maybe not all at the one time, but still – and she’d love them to be there; she missed them. But Madeleine didn’t think she could deal with being in the centre of attention for a party. Especially not if Magda and her mum were involved in planning…
“Not that kind of party,” he said quickly, reading her thoughts. “Just a casual get-together, that’s all. No food, no balloons, none of that crap. Remember what we would do sometimes, with a fire and just general chatting? That’s it. A lot of them haven’t seen each for a long while either. That’s all it is.”
Oh. Well, that sounded an awful lot better.
“That sounds great,” she said, and was surprised to find that she meant it. Still, she turned up the radio a little louder as the song finished.
The guitar introduction of this song sounded painfully familiar, and Madeleine frowned as she tried to remember it.
“Friday night, I’m going nowhere, all the lights are changing-”
Babylon, by David Grey.
It was a familiar song, she’d listened to it a lot before-
Bang.
She was in the passenger seat, the windows were down, and Shaun was driving, just like their dad, singing along at the top of his lungs to the song.
Madeleine’s fingers hit the ‘off’ button suddenly, switching the song off as a wave of mild pain swept over her.
Yeah, this was going to happen a lot.
