MATILDA (A Series of Unfortunate Events)

CHAPTER 14: FESTOONED WITH SQUIGGLY FACIAL HAIR

The Baudelaire's once again found themselves in Mr Poe's car, shuttling along streets and avenues to yet another unknown destination. Cramped in the back seat of the small car, Matilda sat squashed between the car door and Klaus' warm form. Before entering the vehicle, Matilda took a small moment to heave her dislocated shoulder into place, the others oblivious to her movement. She held her arm as still as she could, every movement causing a burst of pain to emerge from her shoulder and radiate down her arm. Finding comfort in being carted away from Count Olaf's grasp and sitting alongside the only people in the world she felt as though she could trust, Matilda was lulled into sleep, despite the jerking movements of the small car. Klaus glanced to his side as he felt a weight land on his shoulder, finding Matilda's head resting against him. Looking at the girl, he could see the marks caused by the cage still patterning her skin, and underneath, he could view the plethora of scars that almost blended into her pale skin. A rage bubbled within him at the thought of the man who had reaped this cruelty and vileness upon her. Glancing at Violet, his burning fury was met with its twin, Violet blue eyes clouded in anger. With that single glance at one another, the siblings made a promise: to protect this girl as much as they could. Sunny envied Matilda for being able to fall asleep, instead of listening to Mr Poe's babbling and incompetency.

The streets shifted from suburbia bliss to manky city alleyways before settling amongst rotten trees that bent and warped in obscure directions, the black twigs lacing the space forming a gloomy aura. A rancid bitterness awakes Matilda, the cars other passengers beginning to cough at the awful smell created by the decomposing sour apples and nearby horse radish farm. Her eyes blink open before screwing up in disgust as Mr Poe attempts to describe the smell.

"Ginger, I believe," pausing to release coughs due to the foul stench. "We're here," is punctuated by a pathetic cough as grand, dark gates reveal a pocket of paradise in the stinky, horrible surrounding environment.

Divulging a large house, bursting with light and colours, majority of the house resembling a greenhouse. Grand roofs of glass shimmer in the sunlight and the living contents of the residence exuding into the vitality of the magnificent garden. As the children ask Mr Poe about their relation to the owner of such a beautiful home bursting with light, Matilda moves her gaze to her fiddling hands. This place was such a contrast to the one she had grown up in; a faint idea of hope seeping through the glass panes compared to the constant dread and trauma in the dark mansion. Looking at her dreary clothes, her dirtied hands and acknowledging the dull ache in her shoulder, she questioned her place in this home. An intruder to the wonderful place, the most likely wonderful man inside and the undoubtedly wonderful children sat next to her. Suddenly, Matilda places an intent focus on controlling her breathing, her chest flowing with shuttering, inconspicuous breaths.

The car came to a jolting stop, the Baudelaire's are quick to exit the car and Mr Poe's company and satiate their curiosity with the building before them. As they approached the door, Matilda let a small, panicked tear leave her eye, quickly wiping the evidence away, as she seemingly got a hold of her rebelling respiration rate. She stood far behind the Baudelaire's, unsure of her place, maintaining a stare with the patterned cobblestone of the driveway. In her position, she could faintly see the bottom of Violets pink amour, dressed in a light blue, soft cardigan and beside her, a smartly dressed Klaus.

"What do we call him?" Violet asks, her hopeful tone undercut with caution of due to their previous guardian. "I mean, hes not exactly our uncle." Klaus glances around curiously at the extravagant landscaping where large green snakes bounded through the garden. Eyes landing on Matilda, who was standing quite far behind them, he couldn't conceal a worried frown at the girl who was holding her arm tightly to her chest, but Mr Poe's voice returned his attention to in front of him.

"Well, you can call him Dr. Montgomery," the banker answered. "Unless, of course, he asks you to call him by his first name, in which case youll call him Montgomery." A brief confused, and amused expression flittered over all the children's faces.

"His name is Montgomery Montgomery?" Klaus vocalised the curiosity swarming the other Baudelaires and Matilda.

"Yes, yes." Mr Poe accented the words with an imprudent nod. "And I'm sure hes very sensitive about that, so please don't ridicule him. 'Ridicule' means 'tease'." patronising the children's intelligence, the Baudelaire's became slightly miffed at the degradation.

"We know what ridicule means," Klaus spoke with a chuckle of disbelief. Ignoring his words, Mr Poe was hit with the stench once more.

"I can-I can still smell that ginger," his perpetual coughing seeming to come in handy to rid his senses of the smell.

"I hope Dr. Montgomery is a decent person," Violet attempted to instil hope into her siblings. From behind them, Matilda could not help but agree. The chiming doorbell was promptly answered as Montgomery Montgomery flung open the door. Almost mimicking the count in their first interaction, Dr. Montgomery greeted the children with:

"Hello, hello, hello." Moving forward to crouch down to the children's level, a platter of cakes in his hand. "You must be the Baudelaire's." Followed by a hurried 'yes' from Mr Poe. "Well, this is perfect timing because I have just finished frosting this delicious coconut cream cake. Take a fork, take a fork, take a fork." Montgomery Montgomery was a strange looking man, but to Matilda, it was a welcome strange. She had glanced up at his arrive to perceive his brightly coloured, patterned shirt against his warm, brown skin and an odd moustache. The wiggly, black facial hair reminded Matilda of a rat's tail that had somehow slithered onto his face during the night. This though caused a brief twitch of her lips as her stare returned to the ground; comfortable with being ignored for the moment.

"Nice to meet you Dr. Montgomery." Maintaining her propriety and manners, Violet greeted him on behalf of the others.

"Please call me Monty. I don't like fancy titles unless they get me a discount at the movies." With a jubilant gasp, he asked: Do you like going to the movies? Violet answered promptly. Matilda had never been to the movies. She imagined them to be mesmerising. To see a story and share the perspective with others whereas books allow the subjective mind to create a world just for the reader. Though she enjoyed the liberty and creativity that books cultivate, she believed that movies formulated an interconnectedness between its audiences. A bond that Matilda could previously only yearn to share.

Matilda snapped out of her train of thought as Monty addressed her.

"And this must be Matilda," he spoke gently and stood up to observe her over the other children. "Come here and let me look at you." He beckoned with his hand. She quickly moved closer to the Baudelaire's, unable to disobey Monty's request, still maintaining a distance from the pristine children. Violet and Klaus parted for the man as he stepped through them. As he crouched to Matilda's level, she cowered slightly into herself while continuing to look at the almost meticulous pavement laying. His attempt to get on her level shocked her, her eyes widening at the adult stopping to her height. "My child," his hand reached to lift her chin, Matilda wincing in response. Monty's gentle hand moved her face to make eye contact with the frail girl. In a quiet, soothing voice, he reassured the frightful girl, "I promise you will be safe here."

Matilda could only stare into the kind, dark eyes of the man before her. His benevolent smile festooned with squiggly facial hair, his warm skin and pools of eyes that held a sincere determination to maintain his promise. Welling tears create a shine on her eyes as a small smile tugged at her lips, allowing herself to put faith into this man.

Oh, how wrong she was.

A/N

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