The Girl in the Mirror (16 page)

D
on’t ask. Just do as I say. Keep quiet and you won’t be hurt.

Her legs trembled and she leant against the work surface in the kitchen for support.
Don’t scream or I’ll have to kill you.
She could feel her chest tighten as the words spun in her head. She couldn’t breathe. Someone was lying on top of her, crushing the air out of her lungs.
Don’t ask. Just do as I say.

Then her two worlds collided and she remembered

It was John, John’s voice, then as now.
Don’t ask. Just do as I say. Keep quiet and you won’t be hurt.
Close, too close – his face pushing into hers, and the pressure of his chest forcing the air out of her lungs. She was on her back, arms pinned to her sides, and John was on top of her. She could smell his sweat mingled with the soap he used, the heat of his body, the stubble on his chin as he tried to kiss her. She was lying helpless in the dark, too frightened to cry out, having woken in the night to find him on top of her, forcing her legs apart, trying to drive himself inside her. She knew now what had happened. Since arriving she’d known something was wrong, something was trying to free itself from her subconscious, something that had to be remembered. And John’s words now, nearly identical to those spoken ten years ago, had brought her two worlds together and made her remember. The monster had tried to rape her! And now he was alone with Grandpa!

Her chest heaved, bile rose in her throat, and her head felt as if it was about to explode. She wanted to run, run from the house
and never stop, but she knew she had to stay to protect Grandpa. Pushing herself away from the work surface she hurtled across the kitchen and into the hall. Without hesitating and ignoring John’s warning to stay out, she flung open the study door. ‘Don’t touch him!’ she cried. ‘Keep away from him. I know now! You monster!’

John looked up, startled. He was leaning over the bed with a pillow in his hand. ‘Get away from him!’ she cried, raising her fist and rushing towards him. John straightened and took a step back. Grandpa’s eyes were closed and he lay very still. She couldn’t see or hear him breathing. ‘What have you done?’ she shouted. ‘What have you done to him?’

‘Nothing,’ John said, shocked and confused. ‘I couldn’t.’ The pillow slipped from his hand and fell to the floor. She heard Grandpa take a breath.

‘Bastard!’ she hissed, turning to John. ‘I hate you! All this time and you never said a thing. You sat in here night after night, knowing what you did and pretending nothing had happened. I thought I was going mad – seeing and hearing things. But I wasn’t, I was remembering! Something so dreadful my mind had blocked it out, until now. You evil bastard! I was just thirteen and you tried to rape me!’ Opening her fist, she slapped his face hard. His hand went instinctively to his cheek as he stared at her. She went to slap him again but he grabbed her wrist and pushed her arm out to one side. ‘Mandy?’

‘Let go, you monster!’ she shouted, and kicked his leg.

He flinched. ‘Mandy,’ he gasped. ‘It wasn’t like that. You’ve got it wrong. I loved you and I –’

‘Bastard!’ she cried again before he could finish. Wrenching her hand free, she fled the room.

She ran along the hall, tears streaming down her cheeks, praying he wouldn’t come after her. Where to go to be safe? She was
in a monster’s house. She ran into the cloakroom, pulled on the light, slammed the door and turned the key. ‘Bastard!’ she wept. ‘Fucking bastard!’ She leant heavily against the door. How dare he say he loved me? How could he? He was my uncle and I trusted him. I looked upon him as a second father. All those nights in the study, caring for Grandpa together, with him knowing and me beside him. How could he! How dare he! She thought of the naked photographs of her on his laptop and her stomach lurched. Words and phrases came flooding back, their meaning obvious now, but buried so successfully she hadn’t understood at the time. Mrs Pryce had known. She’d been there when her father had rushed her from the house. Mandy could see her standing in the hall, comforting Sarah, as her father raised his hand in fury at his sister:
If you ever come near my family again, I’ll have the lot of you arrested!

Mrs Pryce knew, her father (and presumably her mother) knew; John, Evelyn, Sarah, even Gran and Grandpa knew – and all of them had colluded in a conspiracy of silence that had lasted ten years. The only person who hadn’t known was she: the victim. She felt utterly betrayed – betrayed by her family, the very people whom she should have been closest to; whom she should have been able to rely on for their openness and honesty. And John! Bastard! Did he really think she wouldn’t remember eventually, and that when she did it wouldn’t matter! Through her tears she now thought how she’d been driven away in the back of her father’s car on that last night. Now it all made sense. A sickening, depraved sense.

Heaving herself away from the door, she pulled a tissue from the box and blew her nose, then looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were red, her skin was blotchy and pain was etched across her face. But as she gazed it wasn’t a woman of twenty-three she saw, but that girl of thirteen. With her hair tied in a
ponytail and her cheeks wet from crying, Mandy saw her distress and felt her guilt now as then, for surely her childish crush had encouraged John, and she was partly to blame. But it had only ever been a fantasy, nothing more. He wasn’t even supposed to know, let alone do anything.

Taking another tissue from the box, she blew her nose and flushed it down the toilet. There was no way she could face John now, and maybe never would again. Perhaps she should phone her father and ask him to collect her, but she couldn’t face seeing him now either. Her head was spinning and she needed time to think – decide what to do for the best. Perhaps she could phone Adam and ask him to collect her, but she doubted she had the words to explain right now. The comment Adam had made on Sunday flew at her like an arrow from a bow:…
at Uni the word was you didn’t date, which was why it took me so long to ask you out. There was a feeling…you’d had a bad experience with a bloke and didn’t want guys near you.

She went cold and her legs shook. Clearly Adam, and others, had seen something in her that she had not; something she’d been totally unaware of – something unclean. Sullied.

Leaving the cloakroom, she crossed the hall. With her hand gripping the banister she started up the stairs, listening and looking for any sign of John. She would go to her room and try to think what to do. Grandpa was here, she didn’t want to leave him, she really didn’t, but how could she stay? She supposed John had now phoned the nurse who would be on his way with another injection, which would last another hour.

It was quiet upstairs; Evelyn must have slept through her shouting, and Gran never heard anything without her hearing aid. At the top of the stairs she turned right and went along the landing, but instead of going into the bedroom she was using at the back of the house, she stopped outside the door on her right. This led
to the Pink Room, which Evelyn had said she’d used when she stayed as a child, and which presumably she’d been in on her last night – when John had come in.

With her mouth dry and heart pounding, she placed her hand on the doorknob and, slowly turning it, pushed open the door. It was dark inside, but not as dark as it had been on that last night when the curtains had been closed. Now, with no one using the room, the curtains had been left open. Through the window came a faint glow from the lamp on the driveway. Enough to see the wardrobe and chest of drawers to her left, the bookshelves beneath the windows in front and the bed on the wall to the right. All as it had been ten years before.

Taking a step in, she closed the door quietly behind her and, instinctively knowing where the switch was, clicked it on. Colour flooded the room. It was pink, all pink – the reason for its name. The walls and ceiling were emulsioned light pink, and the carpet and curtains were a darker shade of rose. Mandy remembered that as a child pink had been her favourite colour and her aunt had had the room decorated especially for her. It was her room when she stayed. Sarah had liked blue, and the room next door – the Blue Room – had been hers. Sometimes they’d slept together; then they stayed up half the night giggling or telling horror stories and scaring themselves silly. But if they’d had little sleep one night Evelyn always insisted they slept in their own rooms the following night, otherwise they were like ‘bad-mood bears’, Mandy remembered her saying. She also remembered that when Evelyn and John were in bed Sarah had stolen into her room with midnight feasts. They were good times and even now she remembered how happy she’d been until…

Standing by the door she confronted the room. The furniture had not changed, and it stood in the same place as it had on that
last night. The bed wasn’t made up, but a pink candlewick bedspread was draped over it. The top of the chest of drawers, where Mandy had kept a few soft toys, was empty. The bookshelf beneath the window was also empty, apart from three small china ornaments arranged on the middle shelf. From the distance of the door, Mandy stared at these, and then shuddered with a stab of recognition, powerful and bitter-sweet.

Moving silently and slowly over the carpet, she crossed the room for a closer look. The ornaments were of dogs, a poodle, collie and King Charles spaniel, each sitting in its own little wicker basket with a small tartan rug. She’d known the names of the breeds of dogs even as a young child. She’d loved dogs and had wanted one of her own. Mandy remembered how Sarah and she had saved up their pocket money and had bought the china ornaments from the village shop. Sarah had collected horses and she had collected dogs. These three were part of a larger collection. The other eleven were on the bureau at her flat, and until now Mandy hadn’t been aware any were missing. Now, she realized that in the chaos and outrage of that last night she’d forgotten to pack these three – her most recent purchases. Here they’d sat, unremembered, her mind having blocked out their existence as successfully as it had blocked out everything else connected with the house. Until now.

Straightening, she turned and looked at the bed. The memories and fear came flooding back. Terrified at being suddenly woken in the night, she’d tried to push John off but he was too heavy, and the weight of his body had kept her pinned to the bed.

‘Don’t scream or I’ll have to kill you,’ he hissed close to her ear. ‘This is our secret, Mandy. Cry out and I’ll kill you.’ Yet despite her fear she found the courage to cry: ‘Sarah! Help! Help me, please!’ She felt the sting of John’s hand as he slapped her across
the face. Sarah appeared in the doorway and screamed. Then Evelyn appeared beside her and screamed too. John fled. But Sarah and Evelyn’s shrieks were so terrible that they made her more afraid than ever. She clutched the sheet to her chest, rigid with terror, and wept helplessly. Then Mrs Pryce, who, unlike Mrs Saunders, lived in, arrived, and for a moment the three of them were silhouetted at the bedroom door. She could see the horror on their faces as they stared at her, and she lay paralysed with fear, clutching the sheet to her chin and sobbing uncontrollably.

Mrs Pryce took control and told Evelyn to see to Sarah and phone Mandy’s parents. She switched on the main light and came over and sat on the bed. ‘It’s all right now,’ she said in a gentle but firm tone, stroking Mandy’s forehead. ‘You’re safe with me. Nothing can harm you now. There’s no need to be frightened any more.’ Eventually the words of comfort and her cool, soothing touch reached her and slowly, very slowly, Mandy was persuaded to release the sheet. Mrs Pryce took her in her arms and held her close, cradling her like a baby. Mandy remembered the soft, reassuring warmth of her body after the cold, harsh rigidness of John’s. She buried her head in the fabric of her dressing gown and clung to her for all she was worth. Gradually her tears began to subside but she kept tight hold of Mrs Pryce. When she finally dared to raise her head Evelyn and Sarah had gone from the door. Mrs Pryce sat on the bed beside her and comforted her until her father arrived.

She heard the wheels of his car crunch on to the driveway below. ‘That’ll be your father,’ Mrs Pryce had said gently.

The front door slammed below and they heard his voice shouting angrily in the hall. And his anger, after Mrs Pryce’s calm reassurances, made Mandy afraid again; that and the look on his face when he finally came into the bedroom.

‘Get your things,’ he said brusquely.

Mandy clung to Mrs Pryce, not wanting to leave the safety of her arms. ‘It’s all right, love,’ she reassured. ‘You’re going home. You’ll be safe there.’

Mrs Pryce told her father to wait outside while Mandy got dressed, then she helped her into her clothes and packed her belongings. Mandy remembered holding tightly on to Mrs Pryce’s arm as she carried her case to where her father waited on the landing. Passing him the case, the three of them went down the stairs in silence, her father first and she still clutching Mrs Pryce’s arm.

Evelyn and Sarah were in the hall in their dressing gowns, crying. John was nowhere to be seen. Her father took her arm and began hurrying her towards the front door. Fast, too fast, almost dragging her away from Mrs Pryce, Sarah and Evelyn. She threw off her father’s arm and ran into the cloakroom where she bolted the door and sobbed. She clutched the hand basin for support and stared at her distraught reflection in the mirror, tears streaming down her face, as her father hammered on the door. ‘Open the door, Amanda,’ he demanded. ‘Now! We have to leave.’ Too afraid to disobey him and aware they had to go, she unlocked the door and allowed him to lead her down the hall and to the front door. As he opened the door he paused and, turning, raised his clenched fist in anger at Evelyn: ‘If you ever come near my family again, I’ll have the lot of you arrested!’ And his shouting, their crying, and the knowledge that she was to blame were more than Mandy could bear. By the time they’d arrived home, two hours later, she was already blocking it out.

M
andy stared at the bed from the safe distance of the room. She felt hot and cold at the same time; her cheeks were damp and her legs trembled. She could feel the weight of John’s body on hers, the bristly hair around his mouth, and him hard against her legs. All the years the memory had been shut away seemed to have preserved it, and now she could see it, feel her pain crystal clear as though it had been frozen in ice. John on top of her, so heavy he was forcing the air out of her as his body chafed roughly against hers and he tried to force himself into her. But what had happened after she’d left her aunt’s house that night and had arrived home with her father, she’d no idea. Had her parents questioned her? Had she seen a doctor or the police? She didn’t know. Perhaps those incidents had been traumas in themselves and would need more time to remember. But what she now realized was how she’d subsequently dealt with boys and dating – she hadn’t. Adam had been right – she’d shunned all intimacy. And had it not been for his gentle and unthreatening nature, when he’d taken time to get to know her and win her trust, she doubted she’d ever have had a boyfriend or been in love.

She remained standing in the middle of the room, staring at the bed, when suddenly she froze. From the corner of her eye she could see the doorknob moving. She turned to look, fear rooting her to the spot. The doorknob turned and the door slowly opened.
John appeared. She gasped, her hand shooting to her mouth. She stared in horror and disbelief as he took a step into the room; coming to finish what he’d begun ten years before? She watched petrified as he closed the door behind him, then she finally found her voice.

‘Get out!’ she cried. ‘Get out, you bastard!’

‘Mandy, let me explain.’ He started across the room towards her.

‘No, don’t touch me!’ She backed away.

‘Mandy, I need to explain.’

‘No, keep away. Don’t touch me.’ She retreated as far as she could until the wall rose up behind her. She could see the whites of his eyes, hear his breath coming fast and shallow. He was right in front of her now, his face red. Instinctively she put up her arms to cover her chest and protect herself. ‘No, I won’t let you. Not again! Go away!’

‘Mandy, please,’ he said, taking the final step that allowed him to touch her. She felt his hand on her arm like a branding iron.

‘No!’ With all her might she pushed him away. ‘Get out! Now!’ she screamed at the top of the voice. ‘Get out! You bastard!’

He hesitated. She took a step forward and pushed him again, then went to claw his cheek. He pulled back, finally turning from her and heading towards the door. ‘Bastard!’ she cried after him. ‘I hate you!’

She remained where she was, her fists raised and clenched and her heart racing as she watched him cross the room. He went out without looking back and closed the door behind him. Her knees trembled, her legs buckled and she sank slowly to the floor. Kneeling, she held her head in her hands and began to weep as she’d never cried before. The sobs racked her chest and her tears flowed as though they would never stop. Finally she
was crying for what had happened on that dreadful night ten years ago and which, now remembered, could never be forgotten. She would carry the scar for ever. She cried for the pain and fear she now remembered, and for what the sordid secret that was her past had done to her as a person. She wept for her parents and grandparents who’d conspired to keep that dirty secret from her, especially Grandpa who would die believing he was still the keeper of her tainted history. Was that why he couldn’t let go and die in peace? she wondered. Because he still carried the burden of not telling? She had no doubt he, like her parents and Gran, loved her, and if she believed that, then she had to believe they’d acted in her best interests – to protect her. But how Grandpa and Gran had found it within themselves to forgive John and carry on seeing him, she’d no idea. Was it because if they hadn’t forgiven him they would have lost their daughter and granddaughter? Clearly Evelyn and Sarah had forgiven him.

Mandy started as a knock sounded on the door. Not John again, dear God no! Through the blur of tears she stared terrified at the door as a trapped animal fixes on the hunter advancing towards it. The door didn’t open. Pushing down on her hands, she stood and ran to the door, then leant on it with all her might to stop it from opening. She could feel her heart thudding in her chest as she pushed against the wood, listening and waiting; dreading hearing the sound of his voice again. Another knock came but the doorknob didn’t turn. ‘What do you want?’ she cried, her voice sounding far off and unreal.

‘Mandy, it’s Evelyn. May I come in?’

Evelyn? What did she want? To champion John’s cause and ask her to forgive him? No, she didn’t want to see her aunt; she didn’t want to see anyone. She wanted to grab her belongings and go.
Through the window the sky was beginning to lighten towards dawn, and the lone walk along the isolated country lane held fewer demons than staying in the house.

‘Mandy?’ Evelyn knocked again. ‘May I come in? I need to talk to you. Please.’

‘No. Why?’

‘I must, Mandy, I have to. I need to tell you something. Please.’

She heard the desperation in Evelyn’s voice. ‘Is John with you?’

‘No, he’s not.’ Her voice caught. ‘It’s just me. Please Mandy.’

Slowly, very slowly, in case it was a trick and John was outside ready to burst in, Mandy took her weight off the door. She looked through the small gap where the door met the frame but all she could see was the landing light. With her hand on the door ready to close it in a second, she turned the knob and slowly opened it. Evelyn came into view in her dressing gown and slippers. There was no one else beside her. Opening the door wider, Mandy wiped her hand over her eyes and looked at Evelyn. She had been crying too; her eyes were red. It reminded Mandy of that night ten years ago when she’d last seen her in the hall.

She looked at Mandy, her face tense. Mandy stood aside to allow her in and closed the door behind her. Evelyn took a couple of steps into the room and turned to face her. ‘Mandy,’ she began uncertainly, ‘I heard shouting. John came to me. He’s very upset…’

‘Upset!’ Mandy cried, unable to believe what she was hearing. ‘He’s upset! What about me?’

‘Mandy, listen please,’ Evelyn said, her brow creasing. ‘It’s not as you think. Let me speak. Sometimes memories get distorted and –’

‘Oh no you don’t!’ Mandy cried again. ‘That won’t work. Your memory might be distorted but mine certainly isn’t. Not now!
You’ve kept this from me and covered up for him all these years, but now I remember perfectly!’

‘Mandy,’ Evelyn said, raising her voice slightly, ‘will you please just give me a chance and hear what I have to say? Come and sit down and listen to me. I need to sit while I talk.’

Mandy watched Evelyn cross to the bed. She sat on the edge and lowered her gaze. She was pale and looked absolutely wretched; she was no threat. Putting her own feelings to one side, Mandy went over and sat on the bed beside her.

‘Thank you,’ Evelyn said.

There was silence as Evelyn appeared to be collecting her thoughts; they both concentrated on the floor. Mandy heard her aunt take a breath, then she looked up and straight ahead. ‘Mandy, as you know, your father and I hadn’t spoken for ten years, until I phoned to tell him we’d brought Grandpa here. I thought you’d want to visit your Grandpa – you’ve always been so close, probably closer than Sarah is in some respects. I won’t pretend I wasn’t worried about meeting you again, given what happened. I thought you might still blame us. I found it strange that none of your family had ever spoken of that night but I was totally shocked when I realized you had no memory of what happened here ’ She paused and Mandy waited, with no idea where this was leading. ‘Clearly you now have some recollection of what you think happened, and you’re right to believe you were attacked – in this bedroom. But it was not as you think.’

Mandy looked up sharply and was about to speak, furious that Evelyn was still trying to cover up for John. ‘No, let me finish, please, Mandy,’ she said firmly. ‘This should have been dealt with at the time, not left to fester for all these years. What I am about to tell you is the truth. I hope you will remember how it really was, and see that what I’m saying is right.’

Mandy continued to look at Evelyn and wondered if she was going to apportion blame, as she herself had been doing: yes, John did come into your bed but you had been flirting with him and leading him on.

‘Do you remember that weekend?’ Evelyn asked after a moment. ‘That Saturday when it happened? I mean during the day, not the night?’

Mandy thought. ‘I think so. Some of it’s coming back.’

‘It was a hot June day,’ Evelyn said. ‘And we’d had a barbeque, which you and Sarah had helped cook. We’d eaten sitting on the patio, then we’d gone down to the lower lawns where the swings and slide were – still are.’ Mandy nodded. ‘It was such a lovely day – hot with a warm gentle breeze, and we were all enjoying ourselves, so much that we stayed there all afternoon and well into the evening, only popping up to the house to use the toilet. Mrs Pryce made us sandwiches and jelly and we had a picnic tea on the lawn just before the sun set. Do you remember that day, Mandy?’

Mandy thought. ‘Yes. You had guests staying that weekend. A couple with two children, and the children were too young to play on the slide.’

‘So you can remember that?’

She nodded. ‘I can now.’ She realized it was the day she’d remembered when Adam and she had played on the slide.

Evelyn was watching her carefully now. ‘The couple who stayed with us that weekend with their two young children are called Jimmy and Natalie. Jimmy was John’s brother. I say
was
because John disowned him that night and has never spoken to him since.’ She paused. ‘Mandy, it wasn’t John who came into your room that night and attacked you; it was his brother, Jimmy.’

‘No! Absolutely not!’ Mandy cried. ‘I know what you’re up to. You think you can blame it on John’s brother because they’ve
fallen out! Or perhaps that’s what John made you believe – that it was his brother and not him. Well, if you want to live a lie that’s your problem. But don’t bring me into it. John attacked me and I caught him looking at photos of me naked as a child!’ Shaking with anger she jumped up from the bed and ran to the door.

‘Mandy!’ Evelyn called after her. ‘No, Mandy, please listen.’

‘No! I’ve lived a lie for ten years. I won’t have you take the truth away from me now. You’ll be telling me next it was my fault – that I led John on!’ Flinging open the door she ran across the landing and to the bedroom she was using. Slamming the door behind her she pressed her hands to her ears and screamed. She didn’t care who heard. She screamed for what John had done to her and the secret Evelyn was still trying to maintain. But most of all she screamed for what she had just acknowledged – that she was responsible.