LISTEN TO:
Liability - Lorde
Lovely - Billie Eilish, Khalid
***
If only something would happen, something new, something worth looking forward to, Madelaine wished rebelliously, dragging her sore feet across the convent grounds.
If the Sisters knew of her wayward thoughts, Madelaine would be punished by cleaning the bathrooms again, but as she had undoubtedly already earned herself a scolding by skipping maths, she might as well keep piling on her sins.
Her hair was another injustice. She despised her long straightened locks, but whenever she pleaded to have it cut, the Sisters reminded her that her father hadn't given his permission.
The Nuns knew more about her father's wishes than she did herself, Madelaine reflected bitterly. She hadn't seen him in years.
As time passed by, Madelaine accepted the reality of her situation, that her father intended to keep her within the walls of the convent for the rest of her life, as the birthday cards stopped being delivered after her 10th birthday.
Most of the girls in her class had already left, free to enjoy the liberties of the world, swept away by their families. Some further continuing on their studies at exclusive schools, others being committed into carefully arranged marriages chosen by their parents.
She always wondered what it would be like to have a welcoming home, to have a father that truly cared about her. As a younger girl, Madelaine fantasised about the day her father would come to collect her, who would tell her how proud he is, and how proud her mother would be. But her mother was beyond this life, a distant memory, a vague imagination.
Madelaine realised that fantasies are meant for little children. She had to grow up and realise it was pointless dreaming about such things.
The convent wasn't simply a school in the ordinary sense. Most of the girls came from wealthy and entitled families, knowing that the strictly enforced regime and stern moral attitudes would prepare their daughters and produce young women the French described approvingly as bien élevée.
Her innocence, both mentally and physically, was what they tried to protect. But Madelaine was aware that a far different world existed outside the convent walls from what she had been taught.
She envied the girls whose scandalous conversations echoed around their bedroom during the dark hours of the night; girls whose parents were not quite as... insouciant as her own father.
They would all gather round in a circle, the single flame of a candle illuminating their faces, and share stories about their holidays abroad.
Some would get too tired and return to the comfort of their beds, but Madelaine stayed. Every night, she listened intently to the hushed whispers, telling her about how their mothers took them shopping through the streets of Paris, and the taste of trademark wine at dinner lingering on their tongue.
The more she listened, the more she grew frustrated and angry, that she would never be able to experience any of these luxuries of her own.
***
The weather was the kind that feels like a kiss of summer without the fiery heat of noon time in August.
Feeling the refreshing breeze brush across her cheek, Madelaine closed her eyes so she could focus on the sounds of birds chirping and the leaves rustling.
She opened her eyes and let the daylight flood back in, bringing the early April day back onto focus. From the distance, she could see the silhouette of a girl as she made her way down the concrete path.
Naomi Rivera, one of Madelaine's closest friends, strolled onto the field, after unpacking from her visit home. Her glossy chestnut waves framed her angelic face as she lay on her stomach, her legs lazily swinging in the air behind her.
Her tanned skin was glowing as the sun's rays scattered through the tree's branches. Naomi was the first friend Madelaine made when she was assigned a dormitory, and since the first night at the convent, they had been inseparable.
Shaking her head at the memory, an unexpected pang of emotion flitted across Madelaine's face, as the Hispanic girl beside her described the sensual feelings for the young man she had encountered while at home.
"Of course, Matteo is not 'suitable'" Naomi added in a detached tone. "Yes, he may be wealthy, and quite the gentleman," she giggled nervously, "and we enjoyed the little time we spent together, but my father only sees him as a distraction from my studies..."
Naomi's voice faded into the background as Madelaine brooded over her own future, her elbows digging into the grass. She turned 18 two weeks ago, and still no word from her father.
The majority of the girls had an idea what their parents had planned for them, but Madelaine was left clueless.
She would wait for the post every morning in the hope that her father would have the opportunity to write back. As expected, there were no letters asking her of her well-being, not even a basic phone call. Madelaine guessed he was probably too busy with business propositions to remember he had a daughter.
As the bell rang signifying the start of lunch, Madelaine sighed and stretched as she stood up, examining her uniform for any creases and grass marks.
As the nuns preached 'Cleanliness is next to Godliness'. Madelaine, with her golden locks in a loose ponytail and gawky limbs, often earned the Sister's comments of disapproval as she passed them through the corridors.
She had recently started to notice her body significantly changing. She wasn't as thin as she used to be. In fact, it made her blush to realise how provocatively full her breasts had become, the thin white fabric of her shirt straining across her chest.
Her hips grew wider too, the tight skirt complimenting her accentuated curves. The same skirt her father had purchased for her two years ago, not expecting her to mature so quickly.
Naomi had remarked that she was starting to look "incredibly sexy", as they both stood accessing her body in front of the mirror. But then again, Naomi loved to tease her.
Besides, Madelaine was not so naïve that she didn't know that "incredibly sexy" was the last thing the convent wanted its pupils to be.
Despite the warmth of the summer's day, Madelaine shivered slightly, her bemused cerulean eyes staring back at her, mocking her innocence. Sex was a subject only to be discussed in hushed whispers in the girls' dormitories.
Madelaine, who had not spent any more than two days outside the convent walls since she had entered them, had no knowledge of her own, except the carefully organised Biology lessons prepared by the Sisters, and what she had learned from the other girls' experienced conversations.
From what she had discreetly managed to read from the romance novels her friends brought back from home, she knew of the ecstasy two people could experience together, but she didn't understand how this blissful feeling could be matched with the regretful realities of reproductive life mentioned by the nuns.
***
Today was 'French day', which meant that only French could be spoken, but Madelaine was fluent in the language not to mind. Impressively, she was fluent in a handful of languages, not just German and Italian taught at school.
French is soft and romantic.
Italian is expressive and passionate.
German is dominant and refined.
However, the language which intrigued her the most was Russian. Perhaps her interest grew from Russian literature or their music, the melody mysterious and seductive.
Her thoughts drifted into forbidden waters as she sat at the crowded lunch table, her fingers absentmindedly twirling a strand of hair which escaped from her French braid.
"Are you guys excited for the summer holidays?" Naomi asked to her left, brushing the crumbs off her lap. "This year, my parents rented a villa in Bali, we've got an amazing view." she gushed in an excited manner, not bothering to speak French.
Naomi was a sweet girl, never with the intention of being cruel or purposely hurting her feelings, but the words stung as Madelaine chewed on the inside of her cheek, trying to control her emotions.
Many of the girls had invited Madelaine to share their holidays with their family, but her father repeatedly refused.
Why? She was tired of asking the same questions, becoming frustrated when he never provided her with an answer.
"It's almost as though he wants to keep you locked in here forever." another girl remarked boldly, when yet another invitation had been declined.
Behind her fake smile, a tiny sliver of fear had lodged deep in Madelaine's heart. Could this be true?
Now that she was 18, surely she was her own person? Legally, perhaps, her mind racing with confused thoughts. She was trained to recognise which vintage wine to serve with each dish, and how to dress accordingly for a formal gathering. However, she had very little idea how to take care of herself in a world which Madelaine sensed she would find alarming and hostile after the cushioned protection of the convent.
The convent had an exceptional library, which she made proper use of, spending her free time flicking through the pages of adventure and romance. That was her way of escape, by living through another.
She filled her mind with fictional fantasies and hoped that one day they would become real. But because her head was always stuck in a book, she never got the chance to have adventures of her own.
However, all her knowledge of the past could not compensate for her lack of perspective about the present, and the uncertainty that the future held. Madelaine frowned at the strange feeling of restlessness as a voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Madelaine? Madelaine, you are daydreaming again, child." She could detect the exasperated tone of Sister Katherine's voice, causing her to flush guiltily.
"The Reverend Mother has asked for you," Sister Katherine continued, ignoring the twig in the girl's hair. "Allez, file, mon cœur. You mustn't keep her waiting."
Madelaine's heart started to thud as she briskly walked down the empty corridor, the clicking of her shoes matching the rhythm of her racing heartbeat. She remembered the several occasions when she had been summoned during her school life, and she wondered why she had been sent for now.
It couldn't have been because her father had refused her permission to spend the upcoming holidays with another friend. This year, she knew better than to ask.
The Reverend Mother had a suite of rooms separated from the main school building. Normally, Madelaine would've enjoyed admiring the enclosed garden the Reverend Mother's rooms looked out on, but today, she felt nervous as she tried to remember what she could've done wrong.
Surely, as wise and all-knowing as she was, the Reverend Mother couldn't possibly know of Madelaine's sinful thoughts which may have become an unnecessary distraction recently.
Arriving at her study, Madelaine hesitated before knocking on the door, smoothing her wind-blown hair and straightening her school tie in a nervous attempt to look presentable. A clear voice motioned Madelaine to enter.
The Reverend Mother was a small lady compared to Madelaine's five foot eight, but possessed such a presence, an aura of calm peacefulness, that it was Madelaine who felt dwarfed.
"Take a seat, child", motioning towards the cushioned seats in front of her.
Madelaine Thompson was the only English pupil, and the Reverend Mother had been surprised when the girl's father told her his wishes. Madelaine was to be confined in a way she wouldn't even wish for a person who committed a heinous crime.
William Thompson had been most adamant that his daughter was not to be "contaminated" by any contact with the outside world.
But while she disapproved of William Thompson's lack of concern and fondness for his only child, the Reverend Mother had no choice but to obey his orders, with one or two exceptions.
In today's society, there was no point of hiding the facts about Sex from the girls' curious ears.
The Reverend Mother had to reconsider her decision to include Sex Education in the curriculum, and her first impression of William Thompson made her wonder rather cynically at the double standards of the world.
As she had expected, Madelaine's father had not been in touch before her eighteenth birthday. Most of the girls left at sixteen, and it grieved her that Madelaine, one of the brightest students would never go on to university.
The Reverend Mother eyed her sympathetically, as Madelaine played with the hem of her skirt under the table.
"Don't look so worried, Miss Thompson. I've got some good news for you. You are leaving us." Madelaine widened her eyes in shock, as the Reverend Mother presented her with a pen to sign the school documents.
"I have been informed that your father is currently in France. A friend of his, Monsieur Vladimir Bordeaux is coming to collect you tomorrow, who will take you to your father."
The Reverend Mother busied herself with finalising the paperwork, well aware of the emotional storm swirling inside Madelaine's head. She only wished the young girl was not so vulnerable and more equipped to deal with the unpredictability of life outside the convent, but it wasn't up to her to question the dictates of the pupil's families.
"I know this has come as something of a shock, and highly unexpected too. We have watched you grow up into the bright girl you are, and it is time to take your place in the world. Remember, child, we will always be here for you if you need us."
It was what she said to to all the girls when they left, a well practised speech to avoid any emotional confrontations. Some deep instinct told her that Madelaine was more likely to require the shelter offered by the convent than any other student.
Although she felt disappointed that it wasn't her father who was coming to collect her in person, a sense of relief washed over Madelaine, a sincere smile growing on her face.
She was finally free!
Shaking the worn hands of the Reverend Mother, Madelaine thanked her for the kind hospitality and slung her bag over her shoulder, the sound of the door echoing as it closed.
Like someone in a dream, Madelaine made her way back to her room, never wanting the dream to end. It finally happened - her father had sent for her! She lazily changed out of her constraining uniform, her brain not yet able to comprehend the sudden turn of events.
After dinner, there was a free period where the girls could discuss their day before heading to bed. However, Madelaine was strangely reluctant to tell her friends about her departure from the place she had called her home for the past 9 years.
She could imagine the pitying looks on their faces when she told them her father couldn't be bothered enough to collect his daughter himself, but had sent a complete stranger in his place.
Madelaine was tired of coming up with excuses for him, because that's all they were. Excuses. She was tired of pretending that he genuinely cared.
She was aware of her father's many corporate interests, but the most important relationship to maintain was with the Montgomery's, the worldwide merchant bankers, whose headquarters were based in Paris.
It was a pity that her father cared more about his reputation and wealth than his own family.
In her room, Madelaine sank her head into the pillows from exhaustion, her body curling on the narrow bed. Thin strands of hair brushed lightly across her cheek as she stared unseeingly at the blanket of stars that stretched to infinity outside the window.
Diamonds filled the sky with the promise of life in the darkness, a sense of warmth springing from the cold. In the serenade of the black, the stars were a choir; they were lights that sung in infinite patterns. Sometimes eyes needed music, and the darker the night the sweeter the song.
It was eccentric how only this morning, she had been longing to escape the convent. Then why was she feeling strangely empty when her wish had come true?
Though Madelaine was never particularly devoted to religion, she found herself praying in silence, profoundly fearful of the world she would soon discover outside the convent.
The young girl wanted nothing more than to lay down and be enveloped by the warmth of silence. She never would have though silence would be considered warm but there she was laying in her bed, prepared to be swept away by the hope that her sleep would be filled by light.
***
Madelaine woke from a blissful sleep to the sound of her alarm. Half-conscious, she wriggled her arm free from the warmth of her duvet and slapped at her bedside table, searching for the clock. Its relentless buzzing continued to burrow into her brain. Consciousness crept over her, confusion, the uninvited guest that decided to show up alongside.
The nuns preached the importance of waking up early in the morning and starting the day with the remembrance of God. Every morning, the radio screeched with various Bible verses as the girls got ready.
Exodus 24:4 "Moses then wrote down everything the LORD had said. He got up early the next morning and built an altar at the foot of the mountain and set up twelve stone pillars representing the twelve tribes of Israel."
Psalm 5:3 "In the morning, O LORD, You will hear my voice; In the morning, I will order my prayer to You and eagerly watch."
"God's voice can reach our minds more easily in the morning. It is easier to hear God's voice because our minds are not cluttered from the day yet. There is a holy hush at daybreak, a stillness in the air." Sister Katherine chanted over the speaker.
Madelaine breathed in deeply, blinking the sleep away from her eyes. Walking around her bed to open the curtains, she reached her hand out to stroke the fabric, noticing how close the light pours through every open space between fibres. The material was warm beneath her fingers, and when the sun flooded the room, she felt the golden rays soaking into her skin.
Pushing the curtains aside, she gazed out at the horizon, its vivid light extended across a rosy sky. Clouds formed a perfect line-up in the blue, as if they were boats safely moored in celestial harbour.
Madelaine supposed this was something the majority of people would consider beautiful, but she found it hard to find it so meaningful in something so 'every-day'.
It's not like the sun wouldn't rise. It had, after all, been reliably happening since the beginning of time. So what was so special about it? She could never feel the joy from it that others did; the magic that drew so many artists and photographers in, as if they had some lens or filter she'd missed out on.
Madelaine sat back on the edge on the bed, stroking her hand across the linen of the duvet, remembering the countless nights where she struggled to fall asleep. The memorable times when her and Naomi ate all the caramels after lights out, sharing secrets under the covers.
A sigh escaped her lips, as this was Madelaine's last day in this bed. "Better make the most of it." Madelaine recited in her head, as she got dressed for breakfast.
***
The Refectory, as the convent's dining room was called, carried a positive vibe laced with the aroma of the meals spread out across the table. One end serving continental breakfast, the other a traditional English buffet.
Too nervous to eat anything, Madelaine filled a cup with coffee, ignoring the impatient growls of her stomach. She winced as the warm liquid lingered on the tip of her tongue, as she thought about what the day had in store for her. It was overly bitter and lacking cream, but it was a source of caffeine so she drank like a sailor new to whiskey.
As today was her last day at the convent, Madelaine was excused from lessons. After breakfast, she had nothing to do for several hours, other than walk in the garden trying to suppress her nervousness.
Madelaine glanced apprehensively over her shoulder, but no one had come to disturb the calm peace of the garden. It was her secret retreat for the times when being surrounded by other people swamped her spirit.
The intensity of the Spanish sun was an indication that soon her peace would come to an end.
Madelaine was pacing with calculated steps for the third time when Sister Katherine came hurrying towards her, breathless and hot, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Madelaine, mon petit, the Reverend Mother wishes to see you." Sister Katherine bowed forward, resting her hand on her knee, trying to catch her breath.
As before, Madelaine paused before knocking on the door, catching the soft murmur of the Reverend Mother, and a deeper, masculine tone of her companion.
Little did Madelaine know that opening those closed doors was going to change her life forever.
***
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