Madeleine's Memoir

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is one of my homework pieces that I had to do on my English course - I got quiet a respectable mark for it and so wished to publish it on Booksie to share!

Submitted: January 12, 2010

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Submitted: January 12, 2010

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Madeleine: I am in the rafters of the barn. A quiet place, which allows me to be alone with my thoughts without being constantly distracted by the disappointed looks of my family. Throughout my life, I have often come up here in order to offer my life some sort of escapism. I find it most relaxing to climb the ancient wooden ladders to the very top of the barn and sit watching the sky turn from bright blue, to raging orange, to pastel pink until it turns to the deep blue of a precious sapphire stone. I then return into the warmth and have a cup of coco before retiring to my chamber. However, tonight I feel that I would rather stay outside to sleep, in order to allow the cooling night air to evaporate my foul mood as I do not wish to inflict it upon the family any longer.
I have never in my life met anybody with such an inflated opinion of themselves as Mr Edgeworth has; (apart from Mr Darcy in Pride and Prejudice, but that can hardly count can it? That is classic fiction after all) However, as Elizabeth Bennett says about Mr Darcy “I could easily forgive his pride, if he had not mortified mine.” In all honestly, it was not only my pride that he had mortified, it was also my fathers. I cannot believe the way in which Mr Edgeworth criticized my father’s invention and our stall at the market place. How rude! Especially on our first meeting! I shall talk you though the events, if you will allow me to.
This morning, the whole family, including Mr and Mrs Huckleberry and Joshua, arise early as it is market day. We eat Mrs Huckleberry’s homemade porridge (which of course is divine, and a great way to start the day,) we then pack the cart ready for market. Although we live on the same premises’, the Huckleberry’s have their own stall a small way away from our own and so leave half an hour before ourselves in order to set up the stall. However, Joshua insists on staying behind to help me load the homemade butter, milk, meat and eggs along with my father’s new invention onto the cart. We then travel the five miles into Melrose Village and set up stall ready for a day’s trade. The day pasted with great delight (that was until Mr Edgeworth made the displeasing comment about my father’s invention). Most people, including Father McKenzie, stops in their tracks when they saw father’s invention. With my siblings demonstrating how to use it, it was bound to be a success. My father had invented something which had never before been seen in Melrose. He had created a writing implement which, when used, the writing would be a different colour. And believe it or not all that was used in order to make it was discarded candle wax and a hint of Mrs Huckleberry’s food colouring (with her permission, of course.) My father had created wax crayons! The crowd that surrounded our stall at about ten o clock was large, so much so that I began to feel sorry for the other market stall holders. I turn to my left to see Joshua’s stall full of regular customers who cannot resist Mrs Huckleberry’s homemade jams, cakes and bread. However, it is fair to say that their stall was nowhere near as crowded as ours. Then that was when I saw him. Walking, with an over inflated sense of personal pride and loathing for the people around him. “Make way, make way! What is all the fuss about?” He called over the many heads of the people who had gathered there at our stall. This man was Mr William Edgeworth of Melrose Manor and the new market inspector. Before he had even begun to speak, I was fully aware of the feeling of loathing, which had suddenly arisen inside on me, like a monstrous beast, awoke after many centuries lying dominant. “Do you realise, Sir that this market is to sell produce which has been produced on local farms?” I could not believe now my father reacted to this question! Normally, my father is a strong willed man, who will easily stand up for what he believes to be right. However, Mr Edgeworth’s question had seemed to turn my father into a silhouette of a frightened child, who had been told off by their mother. He did not say anything and began to pack the crayons away and place them into the cart again. I however, would not and could not stand to see this (frankly arrogant) man dictate to my father what he should and should not sell on his stall. May I state that I spoke to him in a completely expectable manner (in my opinion, that is); “If it is quiet alright to say so Mr Edgeworth? My father here did make these crayons at the farm. I know they are not the typical produce to be found on traditional farmers market. But, I can fully pledge that he did make these during the little spare that he has whist on the farm in order to keep my siblings occupied. Furthermore, I do not quite understand your reason for objecting the sale of these items? I mean after all, the more of these we sell the more shillings you shall have to line your pockets.”
This was to be the end of our delightful day, the whole crowd of people (including the other stall holders) has began to disperse like a herd of wild antelope, hurrying to get away from a ravenous pack of lions. Mr Edgeworth said no more. However, he stared down at me and my father. After a few seconds (or minutes) we understood the uncommunicative message and packed the stall into the back of the cart and heading back to the farm. Father said nothing to me on the way home, nor did Evelyn or Oliver. Mr and Mrs Huckleberry looked at me bleakly, while Joshua didn’t give the small smile he usually gives when I look at him.
And that is why I am here, in the rafters of the barn, underneath the deep blue of the sapphire sky, looking out towards the village and the manor beyond.
 
 


© Copyright 2019 Emma L Denison. All rights reserved.

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