Chapter six

Madeline stared at the girl she's supposed to take care of, wondering what her story was. Was her mother dead? Inattentive? Occupied with work? Whatever the case was, she told herself she'd make sure the girl felt the absence less.

Not wanting to scare the girl when she woke up from the way she's angled over bed, Madeline gently pushed herself off the bed to take a look on the restroom. As expected, the place is “we just bought this from the factory" clean. She gripped the door handle tighter as she stared around the room, taking in everything it encompasses.

On the wall facing her was a window too high for the little girl to reach. In truth, even her hands couldn't reach there. By the wall to the left were rows of hair creams, lotions, and soap, a mirror above them.

Children are allowed to have all these? she thought.

Madeline thought the zinc only added beauty to the pink paint of the walls, making her wish for a breif moment she had this kind of childhood. When her face catches the bathtub placed on the far right end of the restroom — a room large enough to house her room with enough space left — she found herself thinking, “How rich are you, Robinson?"

After walking into the sitting room of the family she's supposed to work with yesterday yesterday, everything else spun fast.

After Charles left, Madeline managed to hear Mrs Àna say something about Robinson being the boss. The anger that was carefully building in her burst, blurring out the words that greeted her ears next.

Somehow, for another twenty minutes in a too-large kitchen, she managed to hear some things that Robinson said, most of them getting lost in the ringing that was her ear. One of the things she ended up not hearing was the name of the child sitting in the other room and she wasn't ready to ask Robinson either.

Although she only arrived yesterday, there's already a wish to leave the building in Madeline. It riles her up that she could dislike a job she liked that much. Madeline loves kids! She absolutely don't mind spending her entire life taking care of children. Yet, there she was.

Several minutes of arranging her room later — which in truth, was her rearranging what she had arranged, before scattering it to start over in a bid to burn off the anger —, she came to a decision. The only reason why she was still in the mansion the next day.

Madeline decided she'd block out Robinson, his ridiculously large house, the fancy sports car she saw outside, Charles's advice, and everything else that seemed unnecessary. Instead, she'd pour out all her love to Mariam and watch the rest unfold.

Her being there was for one reason: to care for Mariam. She told herself she'd make that the only thing she invested myself in for the next three months.

The sound of body shuffling behind her drew Madeline back to the four walls of the restroom. She closed the door lightly, in case the girl wasn't quite awake.

“Mom," the little girl called.

Huh? What am I supposed to do?

Madeline waded over to her as quietly as possible, then lowered myself onto the bad right by the little girl's head.

“Mom," she whispered again.

“Uhm… err… hi," Madeline quipped. The last word came out more of a question than a response.

She stayed there a while, saying and doing nothing. “Who are you?"

The question hit Madeline by surprise and she found herself unsure of what to respond to her with.

“Who did you call me?"

“Mom."

“So? Why do you think I'm not your mom?" The girl didn't respond, only the careful rise and fall of her body frame as she took in long breathes of hair. Her head rose to rest on Madeline's lap as her right hand worked around the designs printed on her skirt.

She raised her head and looked Madeline dead in the eye. “My mom's clothes are never this long."

An involuntary gasp escaped her lips. What she was wearing was a plaid skirt over a blue cardigan. The skirt being referred to as short would be unbelievably short then because Madeline's was just an index finger's length away from the top of her knee.

“Hi," Madeline breathed in response to her finally, looking into those dark eyes. “My name is Madeline and I'm your nanny for a while. Mrs Àna will be going away for a while, so I'm going to take care of you until she gets back."

She rose, settling her weight on her heels. Her eyes gauged Madeline's, head tilted sideways. Madeline saw the hint of a smile on her little lips. Lips that would come to kiss a boy soon.

“Miss Àna isn't married."

Madeline blinked, unsure of how to make a comeback from that. She thought the girl must know she didn't ask Mrs- Miss Àna. It made sense to her then. Àna had had this smile on her lips when Madeline addressed her as Mrs.

“I didn't know that." After a moment of high-level awkward silence, she asked, “What is your name?"

“Hi, my name is Mariam and you'll be taking care of me."

The smile that broke out of her pursed lips quickly turns into a grin and Madeline had to force her mouth shut to stop the laughter coming.

“Hi, Mariam. Nice to meet you."

Madeline considered asking her where her mom was but decide otherwise. It would be a topic for another time.

“Tell me, then, Mariam, what do you do when you wake in the morning? The first thing."

“I'm to brush my teeth."

Something about the way she said it prompted the next question. “Do you brush your teeth first?"

Mariam let off a wide toothy grin before burying her face in her palms. Madeline heard her giggles come out faint and muffled.

“Don't tell Uncle Robin," she called out through the laugh.

There was a sudden pause in her thoughts as the words slapped at her. Did Mariam just refer to Robinson as Uncle Robinson? Her father? Or, isn't he-

“Is Mr Robinson not your Dad?" she asked, unsure of how Mariam would take the question because it clearly was stepping the lines.

“No. He- he-"

As she struggled to find her words, Madeline noticed the sadness that was trickling into her face at an alarming rate. She had to cut Mariam off. Her investigation would continue some other time.

“Oh, no, darling, don't cry. Come, on now," Madeline coaxed, wrapping Mariam's light frame into her body. “You don't have to tell me, okay?"

Mariam nodded into het chest and she hugged her tighter.

Whatever your story is Mariam, she decided, I'll find out. Madeline promised herself she would find out in a way that didn't force tears into Mariam's cute little face.