Chapter Text
Madeline. Her gorgeous lovely Maddie, is sat on the absurdly decorative sofa with a blanket around her shoulders and a dainty, oversized pair of glasses perched on her nose, as she highlights her latest script in pink pen, because duh, she’s Madeline Ashton.
As Helen is pinning her auburn stands into a French twist, she can’t help but sneak glances at Madeline and her concentration face. No one gets to see Madeline this comfortable and candid. Helen is sure she is the only person to ever know that Madeline Ashton has a pair of the most adorable, yet stylish glasses.
As she sneaks another glance, she can’t help the small smile to herself as she catches Madeline gazing back at her. She really does love her, so very much.
Which is why she sighs loudly once she finishes getting ready to go out. Helen would much rather spend the rest of the afternoon curled up into Madeline’s side as she helps her with her lines. She may not be an actress anymore, but it’s something she and Mad can share. A part of the blonde’s world that she does understand a little bit of. That and getting a free show of Madeline Ashton doing what Madeline Ashton does best. She would never tell her that often though. The blonde doesn’t need her ego inflating any more.
Helen finds her favourite beige trench coat and brown leather gloves, then gives herself one final glance in the foyer mirror.
You can do this. She whispers to her reflection.
“Right, Mads, I’ll see you in a few hours.” She finds the woman in question so she can place a quick kiss on her lips before she heads out the door. “Love you.”
“Love you too, Hel. Promise me you will call me if it gets too much.”
Madeline has every right to be hesitant about letting her go, she reasons. It’s not like Helen ever comes back from a ‘catch up’ with her mother and recalls what a pleasant time that was had.
Mad would never stop her from going, but she was never afraid to show the extent of her concern every time the moment arose.
Madeline is so gentle with her, so loving, so caring. She smiles back at her as she lets the blonde fix her silk scarf for her.
“You look adorable.” Another kiss from the blonde. “I’ll see you when you get back.”
Any form of reunion with her mother had Helen’s heart pounding in her chest.
Virginia Sharp had never been the kindest woman in the world, and never failed to remind her daughter of what she believed to be her shortcomings. But they were going to be in a public place, somewhere where people knew the Sharps. There was no chance that her mother would act up and embarrass herself in front of her peers, at least that’s what Helen had naïvely thought.
As soon as she arrives into the fancy café, that her mother had insisted upon meeting at, she unties the scarf from her hair and slips off her sunglasses. Thankfully it isn’t particularly busy, it is a late Tuesday afternoon after all, and she spots her mother rather easily.
An eyebrow is arched in her direction from across the room and Helen finds herself taking in a deep breath to prepare herself, before awkwardly making her way through the other diners, to finally reach her mother and her disapproving gaze.
Virginia Sharp closes her eyes to prevent them from rolling out of her head at her daughter’s clumsiness, before stiffly rising from her seat so Helen can kiss her cheek in greeting. Out of obligation and appearances more than maternal love and instinct.
“It’s nice to see you, Mother,” Helen remarks, politely. She’s unconsciously wringing her hands under the table as a result of her nervousness.
“And you, Helen.” Virginia acknowledges, curtly.
So far, so good. At least considering everything.
“It’s been quite some time. I-”
“And who’s fault is that?” The older woman scorns, almost as if she’s trying to bait her, to get Helen to lose her control in some way and Virginia can be a victim once more.
The Sharps weren’t known for their warmth. Helen often wondered as a child if her parents had actually been replaced with robots. Clara, the nanny, had been the one to kiss away her tears, patched up her grazed knees and even attended her music recitals in her parents’ stead.
She tries to not resent her mother too much, but she will always be that little girl desperate for her mother’s love and approval, and always falling short.
“You’re right, I’m sorry.” She’s meek, not at all the woman she’s grown up to be.
There is an awkward silence. Helen can’t help but feel uncomfortable during prolonged silence, it’s something that’s consumed her since her childhood. That’s why she enjoys Madeline’s company. The blonde doesn’t know the meaning of an awkward silence.
“How have you been? How’s father?” Words finally coming to her.
And Helen is genuinely interested.
They haven’t spoken since Helen went home to explain to them both that she had made up with Madeline, when she had also hand delivered the invitation to their upcoming wedding. The same day she came home and had Madeline holding her, as she cried for hours.
Madeline had insisted that she go with her, for moral support, but as much as she loved that the blonde always jumped to her defence, she also knew that Madeline would get so worked up that her fist would make some form of contact with her mother’s jaw.
Virginia already considered herself a victim in all of Helen’s “drama”, she didn’t want Mad being villainised any more than she already is by the horrible old woman.
It wouldn’t have made a difference because they cruelly decided to not show up to the party and found a way to deliver the news in a way that was supposed to upset and embarrass her.
It worked. She’d had to run into a quiet room to have a moment to grieve and process the slight betrayal. Madeline had been furious with the older couple that night. She can’t imagine what she would have been like if she had heard the things they had not only been saying about her, but also Helen.
“How is” she pauses, interrupting Helen from her thoughts, “Madeline?” Her face full of spite.
“Mad’s well…She’s back on the stage. She got a new script that she’s working on a-”
“That’s nice.” She waves her hand dismissively, outwardly implying that she was asking out of ‘politeness’ not because she cares.
“Yes.” Helen finds herself replying, awkwardly again.
She watches carefully as Virginia sips haughtily from her champagne flute again.
The tension is so thick you would need a sharp saw to cut through it. The silence between them dragging out longer with each passing second.
Talking about Madeline was something she always tried to avoid with her parents. It never ended complimentary and Helen didn’t have it in her to repeat herself yet again.
There were productive yet neutral things she could talk about with her mother, surely.
“So, Sarah was wondering-” Helen finds her words, but is immediately interrupted again.
“Ah yes, Sarah. What a lovely young woman. Now that is someone I wish you had met and become friends with all those years ago. You could learn so much from her. She knows how to keep hold of a man, and for him to want to stay long enough to marry her.”
It had been too long for the older woman to take her first swipe at her, that the younger Sharp has been in a mixed state of on edge yet somewhat confident when it comes to standing up for herself.
Helen physically feels her frustration bubbling as she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.
Part of her is glad she’s praising her friend. At least she’s being positive about someone. Sarah is lovely and, despite all the could be awkwardness, she’s incredibly grateful she gets to call her a friend.
“Yes, Mother. Sarah is wonderful. She is a great friend and that’s why she is my maid of honour. Madeline missed out for obvious reasons.” She makes herself giggle, even if her mother isn’t remotely amused. Her smile is gone as soon as it curls up to her lips.
“She’s also very clever. You let someone else take that doctor away from you. Helen, you had someone right there. It had taken you so long to get to the point where someone wanted to marry you.”
“But I didn’t love him. I’ve always loved Madel-”
“I suppose you can’t blame the man for leaving. You have always been such a plain girl.”
“But I am getting married. Madeline asked me to marry her.” Helen calls back to her mother’s first barb.
“Oh, darling. That doesn’t count. I mean a proper marriage.”
Helen looks down at her hands again. They’re red and scratched from her frequent wringing of them. Before she then moves on to biting the inside of her cheek to ground herself, to distract herself from the tears that were threatening to fall, because she doesn’t trust herself to speak.
Virginia knows she’s hit a nerve as she smugly watches her daughter flounder in front of her.
“Um, right…so…Sarah, being the great maid of honour that she is, has been the queen of organisation. I honestly can't thank her enough. All this wedding stuff is getting a bit overwhelming.”
Tears still sting her eyes but as long as she keeps breathing, she’s sure she will be alright enough for the rest of the time they are here. If she ignores the jabs towards her, she can continue as though nothing is amiss.
“And with everything happening with my current manuscript and helping Maddie prepare for rehearsals, Sarah has managed to book us in on Friday to be able to look at choices for my dress. Is 2pm good for you? We could have a late lunch after, you, me and Sarah. Mad has a dance call rehearsal in the theatre during the day, so she won’t be able to come, but I thought it would be just as lovely regardle-”
“I’m not going.” Virginia stares at her from the opposite side of the table, taking another sip of champagne.
Helen can’t help the frown on her face as she looks back at her in confusion.
“Oh. Does Friday not work for you? That’s alright. I can ask Sarah if we can rearrange, I’m sure she won’t mind. I can also do-”
“No, Helen. You’re not listening. I’m not going to indulge you in this little charade any longer, and neither is your father.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“You never do, darling.” The patronising tone Helen knew all too well resurfacing. “We have let this go on long enough now. We thought it would fizzle out on its own, but you’ve always been a stubborn and obstinate girl, and, well, we all know what that Madeline Ashton is like.”
Suddenly Helen is seventeen again, not the thirty-eight year old woman who was about to marry the love of her life and finally had her life on track, or so she thought, as she listens to her mother berate her for her choices and, most importantly, her friendship and relationship to one Madeline Ashton.
How Helen was capable of so much and yet she chose to throw it all away for something as futile and unremarkable as creative writing; it didn’t matter that Helen had written a New York Times Bestseller, she would always be looked down on for not being a doctor or a lawyer like her two older brothers.
The author doesn’t realise she’s disassociated from conversation. Her mother’s sharp voice and cruel words pulling her back in.
“…when she decides she’s had enough of you, as she has done many times in the past, don’t come running to me. I want no part in this anymore. You’ve embarrassed us enough already when we had to…”
The room begins to spin slightly and her body doesn’t feel like her own. It’s like she’s watching herself on the outside, looking inwards. Nothing feels real.
Whatever her mother is still saying to her doesn’t matter anymore because she can’t concentrate on the vitriol the older woman is spewing her way. She has to get out, escape. She can’t do this in front of her. She needs Madeline.
Despite herself, Helen abruptly rises from her seat and starts to put her coat back on. Shaking from adrenaline and fear as she tries to execute this one task with some level of dignity.
“Excuse me, where do you think you are going?”
Helen exhales deeply before retorting, “I’m going home, to my fiancée. It’s clear we are not on the same page and I think it would be wise if we parted ways now before either one of us says something we’ll regret. Have a good evening, Mother.”
That leaves the older woman shocked to the extent where she has her mouth hanging open. Clearly not expecting her daughter to talk to her in such a way. She wouldn’t be getting away with this, Virginia would make sure of it.
The time between leaving the café and putting on her seatbelt in her car feels like a blur. Helen can feel her lungs constricting still, but she feels a bit more in her own body again. She can deal with the hyperventilating. It’s the feeling of losing of control, spiralling, that she’s always frightened of during a panic attack. The quicker she gets home, the quicker she can be wrapped up in Madeline’s arms. That was enough to kick her body into gear and get herself back to what she considers safety.