"I do not care so much what I am to others as I care what I am to myself." Michel de Montaigne

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VI. Pride

Sophie hadn't always lived as she did. There was once a time when she really had not understood the value of money.

She had grown up in a posh London neighbourhood, had attended one of the best private girls' schools in the city, and had been set up for great success by her obscenely wealthy parents.

While they had not been at all receptive to the idea of Sophie studying for a degree in musical theatre, they could still brag to their friends that Sophie had been accepted into the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art.

Of course, Sophie had only been there three months before she had found out that she was pregnant with Maddie, and her parents promptly had informed her that she was no longer welcome in their house if the situation was not quietly handled.

And so, Sophie had not spoken to them in eight and a half years, and for the first time since their last conversation, Sophie found herself standing outside of their Kensington townhouse.

She stared up at her childhood home in awe, wondering if it had always been so grand. Either way, it was home to two of the grandest, most pretentious people to ever walk to earth.

She could remember her mum, Susan Cartwright, screaming at her, telling her she was too stupid and too irresponsible to properly care for a child. Her father, investment banker, Paul Cartwright, had promptly threatened to cut her off completely.

As soon as she had left this house, he had followed through on his threat, with all her bank accounts emptied and cancelled.

Sophie had promised herself that she would never return to this house, especially to ask for money. She would rather drink toilet bleach then let them be right about her.

But Sophie knew that was selfish, and that Maddie's needs were more important that her pride.

The minute she had left the meeting at Maddie's school, she had phoned the child psychologist that had been recommended to her. If Maddie was autistic, as scary as that word was, Sophie wanted her diagnosed and put in whatever programs were necessary to help her to be where she needed to be.

Life should not be hard at Maddie's age, and Sophie needed to do whatever she could, even if that meant making her own life harder.

But that conviction went out the door when she was informed that without health insurance, the psychologist fees would be no less than eighty pounds and hour.

Sophie didn't have ten pounds spare at the end of the month, let alone eighty pounds a week for a psychologist.

It was this mindset that had almost put her into an emotional trance and had taken her off the tube at what once was her normal stop.

She needed to swallow her pride, and she needed to speak to her parents, no matter how hard it would be.

Sophie opened the gate, and approached the white front door, only made more intimidating by the brass door knocker in the shape of a lion's head. Sophie climbed the stone steps and took the door knocker in her hand, knocking twice. She could hear the sound echo within the two-storey foyer of the house.

A minute or so later, the door was opened, and Sophie was met by the face of her mother.

Susan Cartwright was every bit the proud society wife. Her life was dedicated to supporting her husband's career by throwing parties and schmoozing the wives of other rich men over ten o-clock in the morning champagne cocktails at the country club.

Her face was youthful thanks to the quarterly nips and tucks by her plastic surgeon. Her hair was once the same strawberry blonde colour of Sophie's, but she had long kept it a perfectly highlighted blonde, and it had not changed since Sophie had last seen her. It was styled into a perfect bob, with not a single strand out of place.

Her figure was kept by daily Pilates, and weekly tennis matches, and she accentuated it with a navy blouse and a white pencil skirt. She always wore heels, even at home, and today was no different.

"Sophie," she remarked, surprise in her voice, but not evident on her smooth face. "I was not expecting you. You might have telephoned."

"I need an appointment to see you, do I, Mum?" Sophie murmured.

"Do not mumble, child. I cannot cope with mumbling. Elocution is a virtue." Nevertheless, Susan opened the door, and Sophie entered into the house.

Considering she had lived eighteen of her twenty-six years in this house, it felt like she was walking into a stranger's house and she ought not to touch anything.

Her mother always entertained guests in the front sitting room off the foyer. Sophie was taken through to the back of the house and into the pristine kitchen.

It did not escape her notice that there were still pictures of her hanging in her parents' house. She didn't know how that made her feel.

Susan boiled the kettle, and it looked utterly strange to see her own mother doing that.

"Do you still take tea?"

"An English Breakfast teabag will do, Mum," Sophie replied, truly trying not to be any trouble.

A teabag, of course, was an offensive idea, and Susan disregarded it. She spooned tealeaves into her blue china teapot and collected the matching cups. She set them on a tea tray, before filling the teapot with boiling water from the kettle.

Sophie did have to admit that the aroma was comforting. She carried the tea tray over to the little breakfast table and set it down before Sophie, before she poured her tea through a silver tea strainer.

"How have you been, Mum?" Sophie asked nervously.

Susan arched a perfectly threaded brow. "How have I been?" she repeated. "Sophie, please do not insult my intelligence in leading me to believe that you have appeared on our doorstep purely for a chat," she sneered. "You look dreadful," she said bluntly, gesturing to Sophie's appearance. "That outfit looks like it came from an Asda bargain bin. Your skin looks awful. Your hair looks like it hasn't seen a stylist in a decade. You look underweight. Sophie, are you a ... street person?"

Sophie closed her eyes as each one of her mother's insults slapped her across the face. She couldn't be rude. She was here for Maddie.

"My dress is from an Asda bargain bin, Mum. Five pounds fifty," Sophie said dryly. "My skincare routine is washing my face with a flannel. I cut my own hair. I might be underweight, I don't know, but that's not on purpose. And no, I am not homeless." She did her best to keep her voice calm and her thoughts coherent. "Aren't you curious about your granddaughter?"

Susan did look taken aback before she collected herself. "A girl, was it?" she said nonchalantly.

"Yes," confirmed Sophie. "I named her Madeleine, but I call her Maddie." She took a sip from her teacup and hated to admit that it was one of the nicest cups of tea she had had in a long time.

"Shortened names are for children, Sophie," Susan said disapprovingly.

"Well, Maddie is eight," Sophie replied cynically. She could feel the tension rising between them, and Sophie knew that she needed to get her request over and done with before she lost it at her mother. "I came to talk to you about Maddie. She's having some problems."

"Is she ill?"

"No," Sophie replied quickly, not even wanting to contemplate the idea. "Maddie's teachers believe that she might have autism." Sophie was still absolutely terrified of the idea that Maddie would have any sort of label, but she was glad that she was able to say the word without crying.

Susan's brown eyes widened. "Autism?" she repeated. "Your daughter is intellectually disabled?"

Sophie could not honestly tell if her mother was trying to be offensive or not. "No," she replied defensively. "She is not intellectually disabled. Autism is not a disability, and I do not even know if she has it. I've ... I've been referred to a psychologist and a paediatrician –"

"Ah," Susan realised. "But of course, I should have known. You need money."

She said it in such a condescending way that it made Sophie's skin crawl, as though she was taking pleasure from making Sophie feel inadequate.

Swallow your pride, Sophie willed herself. Maddie needs this.

"Mum, I need eighty quid a week for the psychologist. I can't afford it, and Maddie needs it. Will you help me?"

Susan placed her perfectly manicured left hand on top of the table, on which a ring the size of Jupiter sparked on her wedding finger. She continued to appraise Sophie, looking over every inch of her with a holier than thou expression on her face.

"No."

She said it with such finality that Sophie was certain that she might have hallucinated the whole thing, but she could see it on her mother's face.

"What?" gasped Sophie.

"You have made your bed, Sophie. Now you must lie in it."

Sophie shook her head in disbelief. "Mum, I could feel down the back of your bloody sofa and find eighty quid!" she exclaimed. "It will be no skin off your nose! And it is to help your granddaughter! I am not here because I want to be!"

"Exactly," replied Susan calmly. "You wanted your own life, go on then. Your parents are not bank machines, Sophie."

"I have not asked you for a single thing in eight years," Sophie said angrily. "I am not asking for money for clothes or to go on holiday. This is Maddie's education I am talking about."

"And what of your education?" countered Susan. "We paid a small fortune for that, and look where it got us?"

"Oh, fuck off, Mum," Sophie snapped.

Susan recoiled. "Language!" she cried. "How dare you speak to me in such a way!"

"Don't worry, this was a waste of both of our time." Sophie stood up abruptly from the table. "Do you know, one day you are going to wake up and realise that all the bloody Botox and Dom Perignon in the world won't make up for what you missed out on. I'll find a way to make the money without you. I've managed by myself all this time anyway."

Sophie stormed out of her parents' house and was back out onto the street within moments, inhaling the air that was free from potpourri and prejudice.

She did not feel worse about herself. It was hard to feel less than she already did. The flaws that her mother pointed out, Sophie was already well aware of.

But if anything, it was confirmation that she had done the right thing all those years ago. Getting out of that house was the best thing that she could have ever done for her own sanity.

***

As Sophie got off the train and climbed the stairs back up onto Charing Cross Road, she decided then and there that she was going to ask Pete to work weekends. If she worked all seven days, she hoped that the extra money would help her to scrape together what she needed to send Maddie to the psychologist.

The poor kid wouldn't get a weekend at home, but at least she would be taken care of academically.

The idea continued to hit her though. Maddie might have autism. It hurt her very soul to think of Maddie having anything that would make her life harder than it had to be. She already missed out on so much and she didn't even know it.

She walked back into Pete's and she was certain that she looked just as devastated as she felt, and she needed to get a handle on her facial expression before anybody asked any questions.

She looked around for Maddie and found her colouring bits laid out on one of the tables, but Maddie was not sitting there. She was sitting up at the piano next to Noah.

Noah was looking at Sophie, questions and concern on his face. Maddie noticed her moments later, and a huge smile filled her face.

That was enough to shake Sophie out of her mood.

Maddie clambered off the stage and immediately ran towards her, weaving in between the tables before reaching her. Maddie crashed right into Sophie, who needed to brace herself on Pete's door to keep herself from toppling over.

"Mummy! Mummy!" she cried excitedly. "Guess what?"

"What?" Sophie asked, putting on just the level of excitement that Maddie needed.

"I can play a song!" she squealed; her face filled with delight.

"You can?" Sophie enthused. Bless Noah. He had probably taught her chopsticks or something.

"She sure can," interjected Pete, who appeared from the backroom. "Quite the little musician is your Miss Maddie."

Maddie twirled confidently as she accepted the compliment. Sophie shot Pete a grateful look for going along with Maddie's story.

Maddie seized Sophie's hand and subsequently dragged her towards the piano. Sophie had to twist awkwardly to stop her hips from bumping into chairs. Maddie stopped just before the stage, before she climbed back up next to Noah.

Sophie smiled at Noah, her heart swelling at the confidence and the joy that she could see in Maddie's face as she settled into the piano stool. She had never seen Maddie look so happy to be applying herself to anything.

Just as she was about to start cheering for Maddie's clumsy rendition of chopsticks, Maddie began to play.

Play.

Sophie's eyes widened in pure shock as Maddie's fingers began to play a tune. Noah joined in on the duet, playing the lower notes as Maddie took responsibility for the higher notes. She knew exactly what to do.

"Have you got this, kid?" Noah asked her.

Maddie nodded, and Noah stood up from the piano, leaving Maddie to play alone. She placed her left hand where Noah's had just been, and she started to play his portion of the duet.

It was a song. A real song. It was the bloody song from "Big" and Maddie was playing it by herself.

Sophie had planned on cheering, but instead she burst into tears for the seventh time that Friday morning, and clapped with pure pride, clasping her hands together and holding them under her chin.

Noah jumped down from the stage and came to stand beside Sophie.

"I had no idea she could do that," whispered Sophie in utter shock, unable to wipe the smile from her face.

"She can do a whole lot more," replied Noah. "I thought you might like to know your daughter is not stupid."

Sophie's head snapped around to look up at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"Kids can't just do what she's doing. She's not stupid. Quite the opposite, in fact. If she's got what I'm pretty sure she has, she's ten times smarter than any kid in her class. Smarter than her teacher, probably. Kid's just bored out of her damn mind."

Sophie's brain shorted out with her second stroke of the day. "How could you possibly know that?" she managed to choke out.

Noah shrugged his shoulders and put his hands in his pockets. "She's like me," he said simply.

----

Hope you enjoyed it! 

I've managed six days in a row of updating! When was the last time I did that? Let's see if I can go a week straight tomorrow!

I hope you're all safe and healthy. 

Please keep coming back to visit me, and I hope I can take your minds somewhere else for a little while xxx

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