The Bamboo Mirror (8 page)

Making A Right

by Faith Mortime
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Fitting my front door key in the lock, I was dismayed to hear the scrunch of car tyres on the gravel drive. Dismayed because I had a lot to do; Annabel needed to be put to bed for a rest, I wanted to get on with sorting for the car boot sale and I
knew
that the arrival of my domineering sister-in-law would just hinder me.

Turning to Annabel I hustled her inside; hopefully Sonja hadn’t seen her.

‘Quickly now up the stairs and hop into bed. I’ll tell Auntie Sonja you’re not well and we’ve just come from the doctor’s.’

Annabel needed no prompting, disappearing into the hallway as fast as she could go.

‘Clare! Glad I caught you. Was that Annabel with you I saw? Shouldn’t she be at school?’

I arranged a smile upon my face and turned to face Sonja. She was dressed with her usual care; russet-coloured tailored jacket and black skirt worn at just the right fashionable height, ankle boots and handbag in matching kid-leather. Her hair looked freshly tinted and streaked and her face make-up was immaculate. Standing on my doorstep in last year’s coat, favourite jeans and baggy sweater I felt dowdy compared to my glamorous sister-in-law.

‘You did. She’s not well with a tummy bug. We’ve just come back from the doctor. He’s told her to take a day or so off school to get over it. There’s a lot of it about.’

‘Is there? I hadn’t heard. Are you going to invite me in then? I’m dying for a proper coffee. Marcello’s only had instant and you know how much I hate that.’

My heart sank. She’ll notice the packed boxes in the kitchen and hallway and ask questions. I had no choice. One rarely argued with Sonja.

‘What on earth are you doing, Clare? Most of this stuff is Dominic’s. You can’t be throwing it away. He’s not been gone two months.’

 ‘Some is for charity and some for a car boot sale.’ I don’t tell her that some is for the rubbish tip, as I knew she wouldn’t understand. But I had made up my mind. I was doing what was best for my family.

‘Surely that is Dom’s computer? Why are you getting rid of that? It’s barely a year old.’ Bending down over a cardboard box she retrieved a laptop. As she pulled it from the box the back came away exposing wires. ‘Whatever has happened to it?’ She turned her beautiful spoilt face towards me with an accusing stare etched across it.

Taking the machine from her I return it to its resting place.

‘It’s broken. Dom dropped it down the stairs and the back came away. Don’t worry it’s insured, we can buy another.’

Barely mollified, Sonja turns towards the kitchen. I know she is annoyed that I’m getting rid of some of her brother’s – my husband’s things. She will give me no peace. Sighing I follow her and entering the room, switch the coffee maker on.

‘It’s such a tragedy Dominic died so young. You should have had loads more happy years together.’

‘We should have. But he’s gone and I have to move on. I have Annabel and little Tania to think about.’

‘Yes, and this is such a good way of keeping in touch with him. You can be near to him once again. It will be almost like you’re keeping your marriage alive.’

I wince. I’ve heard it all before. Sonja has a friend of a friend who is a medium. She wants me to see her.

‘Come on. Don’t pretend you’re not pining for him. Look at the state of you. You’ve lost weight and you’ve large black circles under your eyes. I bet you’re still not sleeping. I don’t think throwing all Dominic’s things out is a good idea. It was part of him and part of your marriage.
That
is not the answer.’

I frown as I stare down into my coffee. Do I want to contact Dominic? Even if this medium, Madame whatever really can put me in touch with my departed husband. I let her carry on; she is exactly like her brother, always right.

‘Look. I know you feel guilty, Clare,’ she blithely continues. ‘After all it was a dreadful accident, but I hardly think Dom would blame you.’

Startled, I give her a look. Just what is she suggesting? Does she think I had something to do with his death?

I thought back to a month or so ago, when I’d heard the coroner’s verdict. He had been quite emphatic. ‘Dominic had died from a tragic accident. The ladder he’d been using, propped against the back wall of the house hadn’t been secured. Falling from such a great height, he’d sustained a horrific head injury. With a lack of witnesses, we have to conclude this is consistent with such a fall. This accident has left a widow and two young girls without a father.’ Indeed it was a tragic accident.

How Dominic could have used the ladder without securing it is still a mystery to me. He was so correct in everything he did. He never had a thing out of place; he was fastidious to the point of being fussy and was always right. His word, in our house was law. Neither my girls nor I were ever allowed to contradict him. Living with Dom wasn’t always a bed of roses despite what his adoring sister might think.

But Sonja is wrong. I do feel guilty and I can’t rid the thoughts from my head. The accident is still uppermost in my mind.

Even so, employ
a medium
? I’ve never believed in anything like that and I’m sure Dominic wouldn’t either. He was quite out spoken when it came to ‘charlatans and vagabonds’ as he frequently put it.

‘Sonja, I don’t think either of us is into anything like that…’

Sonja doesn’t take no for an answer and interrupts me. ‘Madame Cecilia is very experienced. Loads of my friends go to her for consultations over all manner of things. I’m sure you’ll find the visitation a very fruitful and comforting experience. It will let you get in touch with Dom and then you can have other meetings whenever you feel like it.’

‘Sonja, neither of us believes in any of that stuff. Dom would laugh if he were here. He could never abide fortune-tellers at the local fair and as for mediums well! I doubt if he’d even turn up, if it were true! Dom hated gypsies and suchlike. He considered them the great unwashed.’

‘Gypsies! I don’t think so. Madame Cecilia is so successful she drives the latest Mercedes sports car.’ Sonja leaps in, hardly letting me finish what I was saying. ‘Madame Cecilia is very respectable and hardly a gypsy.’

Sonja crosses one elegant sheer-clad leg over the other and wiggles her foot in annoyance. I begin to hate her legs. Respectable or not, I know Dom would not approve. Nor would he appreciate some hocus-pocus person calling him up from the afterlife. Knowing him as well as I did, I doubt if he’d even answer. He was the one who liked to control a situation let alone a conversation.

‘Dominic didn’t believe in any of that as I’ve already told you! No afterlife or reincarnation or ghosts. He’s dead and buried; he’s had a nice funeral with lots of mourners and beautiful flowers, a Maplewood coffin and a funeral supper.’

Sonja lifted her eyebrows at my outburst. I didn’t add that I hadn’t been consulted over any of it.
She
had seen to that. She’d given some spiel over me not coping. Within days of the body being released she’d chosen the coffin, flowers, and music for the ceremony. She’d even had the effrontery to choose the guests and decide what food the caterers were to provide. I was left with my thoughts running around in my head, telling myself that I could have managed. I would have preferred that. It would have given me something to do.

‘No Sonja. Dom would be dead against it. He never approved of anything like magic. He’d say it was just a macabre trick, aimed at getting as much money out of the participants as possible.’

Dom had been so strict at times. It was all we could do as a family to celebrate Christmas or Easter. The girls were rarely given treats; being told that most celebrations were pagan and American driven. No Santa or Easter bunny visited our house on the allotted date.

‘It would never work. Madame whatever-her-name-is would never be able to contact him.’ I stand up; wanting this painful conversation to end and hoping she might take the hint to leave. Walking over to the sink I begin to rinse our cups. Thoughts were clouding my head and I only caught the last part of her sentence.

‘…appointment for tomorrow if you like…a trance might well be the answer…’

My hands stopped what they were doing. A trance! For heaven’s sake! Dominic had no time for mediums, fake or otherwise, let alone get involved in anything like a trance. It was becoming funny. I could imagine Dom telling them to stop whatever they were pretending to do, pull themselves together and stop mumbling.

‘Dom would absolutely hate the idea of a trance.’ I am now getting very annoyed with my sister-in-law and her interfering ways. It was time be firm and I turn round from the sink to face her.

Sonja looks belligerent. A look I know of old. Some things run in families obviously. She must see that she is not winning, but I know she won’t give up easily. Like sister like brother.

‘Rubbish! He’d do anything to get in touch with you, and what about the girls?’

Danger bells ring in my head as I see she is taking a different tack.

‘I’m sure they’d love to speak to their father; after all he was taken from them so early and little Tania being so young. And what about Annabel? She’s been looking particularly drained lately. She’s still very young to cope with all this and with her exams coming up too.’

I feel guilty again, but for a different reason. Annabel does look ill. If I looked tired and haggard then my older daughter looked positively dreadful. I am to blame for not noticing sooner, but we are working with a good counsellor and I’m praying that she’ll be able to put this devastating event behind her and get on with her life.

‘Shall we ask them?’ Sonja looks exactly like her brother - when he wanted his own way.

In fright I squeak. ‘No!’ I clear my throat. ‘No thank you, Sonja. We are all fine. Annabel is just not well with this stomach thing. Honestly we’ll be fine. Thank you for your concern but I think we need to work this out for ourselves in our own way. It will take some time but we’ll manage. We don’t need anyone else, especially not a medium. I don’t think that would help or make us feel better and I’m sure Dom wouldn’t get involved anyway.’

Sonja looks annoyed, but even she must know that in this instance I have the final say, for once in my life. She sniffs. ‘Well if that’s your final word then. If that’s how you feel.’

She uncrosses her ten-denier-clad legs and stands. With deliberation she stalks from the kitchen into the hall and for a moment pauses as she decides which route to take among the many boxes and black rubbish bags littering the floor. Her exit is not quite what she would have chosen.

I feel a pang of regret. Have I been too hasty, should I call her back and apologise? She has lost her only brother, after all. Perhaps she was looking for something to cling onto, some hope, something to plug the gap his passing away meant to her.

As the door closed behind her, I remembered what he had done to us. My decision was the right one.

Heaving a big sigh, I place the cups in the dishwasher as Annabel walks in to the kitchen.

‘She’s gone then?’ Her eyes look huge and bruised in her pale face. ‘What did she want?’

‘She wants to arrange a meeting with a medium for us.’

‘What you mean like a fortune-teller at the fair?’ Annabel screeches. ‘Mum, please, I don’t want anything like…’

‘Sshh. I know. Don’t worry. ‘I put my arms around her thin shivering body. ‘I think I got her to understand that none of us wanted anything to do with it. That your Dad wouldn’t want it either. I hope she’s accepted that but, she may be back for another try.’

Annabel looks worried as she pulls away from me and looks into my face. ‘But we’ll have gone by then, won’t we Mum? She doesn’t know we’re moving far away from here, does she?’

‘No. She does not. I kept that secret just for us.’