The Woman Who Painted her Dreams [antikvár]

Discovering TedWhen Madeline Green was three she made a dlscoveiy. Her father was a Ted. Thus far she had thought of him as Daddy. Though she knew some people the milkman and Mrs Turner along the road, for example called him Mr Green. But this Ted thing was a revelation.'You're not Ted/ she almost scolded. 'You're Daddy.''I'm only Daddy to you,' he told her. 'You're special. My daughter. My friends call me Ted. That's my name. Like your name is MadeUne.'He had noticed of late that the little bundle of humanity he washed, fed, helped dress, then left each weekday morning with JVLrs Turner three doors down was becoming very vocal. As if, from nowhere, she had opinions: 'Tomatoes aren't very nice.' Questions: 'Do frogs have teeth?' Ted didn't think so. He wasn't sure. He noticed that the child, once given to small remarks on the obvious, pointing to things, stating what they were - dog, moon, yellow flower had started stringing words together m small strident sentences. She had learned to speak. And, now that she had mastered the art, it seemed she would never stop.Ted would waken to the sound of her chattering to herself in the grey dawn light, and would fall asleep to the childish mutterings each evening at seven when he put her to bed. He'd be reading to her, and would often slip into a pleasant slumber himself, book open on his knee whilst Madeline lay abed, blanket comforter pressed to her cheek, chattering, disagreeing with the events in the storybook.It had happened, this Ted revelation, at one of his little gatherings. Three years a widower, he was slipping back into the world. Making friends. Recovering. He was a prominent and very active member of a watercolour society. It was 1959.