Bright Spark | Miss Honey • MATILDA

Chapter Two

"What the hell are you doing at my door, boy?"

The words that set the tone for Max's return to his family home weren't unexpected. His father eyed him suspiciously.

Max's jaw clenched as he stared the smaller, portly man down.

"I'm here to make sure you don't ruin another childhood." He practically snarled in warning. "Don't worry, I've got an apartment of my own, you don't have to worry about that. Now, I suggest you let me in so we can start talking."

He paused as he heard the cry of an infant echoing from within the house, and the sound of his mother yelling in exasperation. He assumed Michael was busy at school.

Harry looked like he was about to refuse, puffing up his chest as he glared at his eldest. Max quickly shut that down and stepped closer to the man, towering over his short, rotund frame.

"Now, old man."

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It was surprisingly easy for Max to convince his estranged parents to let him care for Matilda during the day.

As long as Max stayed out of Harry's way and signed for any packages that came to the door, he didn't give a crap. His mother was of a similar thought; Max staying with Matilda during the day meant more time for her to go out and play bingo. She had next to no interest in her newborn daughter.

The first few weeks were difficult, filled with soiled diapers, messy feeding, and endless mocking from his father. But as the days passed, Max settled into a routine. He would arrive at the Wormwood household early, just as his parents and Michael left for their day. He always made sure to bring his laptop and work with him, as he could spend Matilda's nap times working on writing his new book. And when she were awake, he would read to her from his favourite books; stories of legend, history, and fiction. At the end of the day he would often have an awkward or tense exchange with one or both of his parents as he left, before heading to his part time job where he worked evenings at his old mechanic position at the local garage, needing to earn enough money to keep up the payments on his apartment and to afford gas for his car.

It was lonely, each day spent alone with just a small baby for company, but then he would look at her smiling face babbling to him in that way that babies do, and he would feel his heart swell. He was doing this for her, so that she wouldn't have to be alone.

But it was when Matilda was around seven months old that he first witnessed her do something extraordinary. She had always been a remarkably well behaved baby, rarely screaming and crying, never issues with her food or sleeping pattern. She would gaze up at him from his lap, silent, enraptured by his words, her big blue eyes wide in wonder.

He had walked in on his mother scolding Matilda for making a mess of her puréed spinach on the counter, and Zinnia flounced off whining about raising tomatoes instead of babies.

Max glanced at Matilda who had been plonked in the kitchen sink with the tap running. She slapped her chubby fists against her food covered onesie, looking mighty confused as to why she was sat in a cold metal sink. Her blue eyes blinked at him and she waved her hand in Max's direction before babbling away to herself as she stared at the counter where her once breakfast in a jar now lay splattered.

Max sighed with a soft smile at her, moving to clean up the mess before he bathed Matilda (in the actual bath, not his mothers kitchen sink), only to freeze in shock.

Spelled out in the disgusting purée was a roughly written 'MATILDA', the letters clearly drawn using a rather tiny, chubby pointer finger. Max stared at the letters in shock, his mouth hanging wide open. His eyes flickered between his baby sister and the purée.

"Did you do this?" He asked Matilda, pointing at the word with a dumbfounded expression painted on his face. His only reply was a burbling giggle and two messy purée covered hands once again slapping at a chubby little stomach. "Guess I'll take that as a yes, then." He blinked in shock as the realisation sunk in.

"Holy-" Max quickly cut himself off. He cleaned up with mess with a damp rag, before retrieving Matilda from the sink.

"Bath time, yea girl?" He held her close to his chest, ignoring the gross puréed spinach that was smeared on his shirt by Matilda's mucky hands, grateful that he had a spare t-shirt from the garage for later.

Matilda splashed about in the warm water, giggling and burbling to Max as he leant over the edge of the tub with his sleeves rolled up, attempting to get her clean. She observed him using the wash cloth to clean the food from her skin, and when Max sat back down next to the bath, keeping a careful eye on her, she grabbed the cloth and copied the action. She swiped the cloth over her face, arms and legs, gurgling to Max as she did do. After Matilda finished she held the cloth out in a chubby fist, as if to say 'now what?'

Max stared in part bemusement and disbelief. He held his hand out to her, letting her grab onto his fingers.

"Incredible, that's what you are," He told her gently, smiling when she babbled nonsense back to him. "My brilliant little girl." Max leaned forward and pressed a kiss atop her head.

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