The Other Bill Shakespeare

1. Madeline - Spring, 1968

I was five when mum died. I remember that she smoked, and she seemed to cough a lot. One day the coughing stopped, and she was gone. Her family didn't even come to the funeral.

When I was old enough to begin asking questions about them, dad would respond by saying that they never forgave her for marrying him. That was all he ever said about it.

I didn't understand what he meant, but neither did I feel the need to probe. Even as a small child, I distinguished a difference between us, and them. Dad and I were happy and I didn't really want anything to disturb our peace, especially if they didn't like him. Sadly, fate had other ideas...

I was usually home from school by four o'clock. Dad worked as a tailor in town, so it took him a bit longer. However, he was always home in time for the news, which broadcast nationally at six. Except on my birthdays.

On my birthdays he'd leave early, so he could take me to visit mum before it got dark. He'd be at my school gate by 3.30 pm. We'd bring her flowers and then we'd have a picnic -- right there, in front of her grave. I know that'll seem morbid to some, but for me, it was wonderful. I got to share my birthdays with my mum. I'd tell her about everything I'd done at school since my last visit, even the boring bits...

I remember getting so animated in my story telling, that dad would say, "Madeline, for mercy's sake, take a breath! Give your mother's heavenly ears a break. Let's eat." Then we'd have cake, and blow out the candles.

My wish was always the same. I wanted to marry a handsome prince and live happily ever after, like all the fair maidens in the fairytales. As I matured, I decided that he didn't have to be a prince, or even wealthy, but he did have to be handsome. That was non negotiable.

On my thirteenth birthday, dad wasn't there to meet me after school. I figured, he must've been held up at work, so I caught the bus home. I expected him to be there. He wasn't.

How could he have forgotten my birthday? I was hurt, and rehearsed an indignant speech in my head, that I planned to hurl at him, when he showed up in time for the news, only...he didn't.

I wasn't sure what to do. I was scared. Should I call the police or not? Dad always told me that if I ever needed help, I should call Father Coffey. He was our parish priest. I lifted the phone's handset, but Father Coffey materialised at our front door before I had even begun to dial the number.

The usually jovial priest looked particularly serious. I knew then, that something terrible had happened. I saw him part his lips. I watched his mouth move in slow motion. I heard the words, but couldn't comprehend them.

"Your father... Collapsed... Heart attack... Dead on arrival..."

I was numb. I couldn't cry, couldn't articulate my feelings. I didn't even cry at dad's funeral.

Father Coffey organised for me to stay at the convent nearby. The nuns were all very kind to me and I felt safe there, but I was withdrawn. I carried out the chores assigned to me, robotically. If any of the sisters asked me directly, how I was, I would answer, "fine, thank you," then immediately ask to be excused, so that I didn't have to be drawn into conversation.

Days became weeks. I still hadn't cried, and I'd forgotten how to smile --
until the Superior, Mother Joseph, asked me to help with John.

John was the sisters' dog. He was named after John the Baptist, because, like most Newfoundlands, he absolutely LOVED water. Unfortunately for me, he also liked mud. The day he dragged me into a muddy pond, my emotional damn burst.

I began to sob. John circled me a few times, then seemingly satisfied that I wasn't actually hurt, he slumped next to me and let me grieve. I cried and cried. He sat patiently beside me, until bored with my misery, he licked my face and returned to the pond.

Determined to share his wet muddy fun with me, John splashed about excitedly. His joy was so endearing, that I stopped crying. His loud barking alerted the gardener, Mr Brown, and several of the sisters who were outside. By the time they'd fetched Mother Joseph, I was covered in water, mud and slobber.

"John, you naughty boy!" Mother Joseph exclaimed. John simply blinked at her with a satisfied smile on his furry face. "Goodness, Madeline, what a mess. Sister Bernadette will not be pleased if you bring that mud inside. She's only just finished polishing the floors."

"Shall I hose 'em off a bit for ya, Mother?" Mr Brown asked her. "It's mighty warm today, so there ain't no danger of Miss Madeline catchin' a chill."

John continued to bark, and wag his tail enthusiastically. As far as he was concerned, anything to do with water was a good idea.

"Well, er..." Mother Joseph hesitated.

John began to whine, and I fell about laughing. Mother Joseph stared at me wide eyed. She hadn't seen me smile once since coming to the convent, but now, I was laughing ecstatically. Clearly, that 150 pound bear of a dog was helping me heal. She made up her mind. "Yes, Mr Brown, wash off every trace of that mud," she said, with a smile.

John barked his thanks and we both gleefully submitted to being hosed. In the coming weeks, we would share more muddy adventures together. Suffice to say I was no longer numb...

Author's Notes:

Poor Madeline. I'm glad John is helping her smile again. What do you think of her so far?

The inspiration for John came from my childhood memories of a Newfoundland called Sammy, owned by the Good Samaritan Sisters, at my primary school.

The kindergarten kids would lounge all over him, despite his being taller than many of them, 😂🙎‍♂️🐕🙎‍♀️ yet he was always incredibly gentle and infinitely patient. I think he loved them as much as they loved him.

Prior to meeting Sammy, I was really intimidated by dogs, particularly large dogs, but he was such an affable gentle giant, that we soon became friends.
All photos from Google images.

Ugh! Wattpad is doing it again. I spent a LONG time collecting photos for this story and it often refuses to show them at the header, if I post using my phone, (which I sometimes have to do). If it happens to be one of those times I can't access my computer, I'll post the photos at the bottom as well, just to make sure. My apologies if you see them more than twice. This has been an ongoing issue. I've reported it several times but it's never resolved for long...