The Girl in the Mirror (17 page)

L
owering her hands, she began darting around the room. Some of her clothes lay scattered on the floor and others were strewn across the bed. In blind panic she ran around the bedroom, grabbing her belongings and throwing them in her suitcase. She had to get away as quickly as possible. Away from this house and the truth she now knew: that her schoolgirl crush had led John on to the point where he’d believed it was all right to go into her bedroom; that it wasn’t rape, but what she’d wanted.

With tears streaming down her face she kicked off her slippers and threw them in the case. She grabbed her hairbrush and cosmetic purse and dumped them in too. A knock sounded on the door. ‘Go away,’ she cried. ‘Leave me alone. I’ll be gone soon.’

‘Mandy.’ It was Evelyn. ‘Please, can I come in?’

‘No!’

Dragging the zip round to close the case, she heaved it to the floor. The door opened and Evelyn came in. ‘Get out!’ Mandy shrieked.

Evelyn didn’t get out but continued across the room towards her. She had something in her hand. ‘Mandy, listen, please. Give me one chance to explain, then if you still want to go I’ll call a taxi.’ She took another step and stopped.

Mandy looked at her and was about to say no again, grab her case and escape past her, never to return. But something in her look – in her pained and haunted air; something in the pathetic
way she now offered up what she held made Mandy hesitate. ‘Mandy, please look at this,’ she said.

Mandy heard her desperation and took the photograph. She recognized it immediately. It was a snapshot from that Saturday afternoon, when they’d had visitors – the visitors Evelyn now said were John’s brother Jimmy with his wife and children.

‘I took that photograph,’ Evelyn said,‘which is why I’m not in it. John usually took all the photos so he wasn’t in many of them. I said it would be nice to have one of him with his brother and his family.’ She gave a tight smile. ‘Little did I know it would be the last photograph of us all together. Little did I know what Jimmy had in mind as I took it.’ Her lip trembled.

Mandy looked at Evelyn and then again at the photograph. John was posing with Jimmy on one side of him and Jimmy’s wife on the other. Mandy was next to Jimmy, and Jimmy’s two small children stood either side of Sarah at the front. Everyone was smiling, the sky was blue, and the swings and slide could be seen in the background.

‘Mandy, look closely at John and Jimmy,’ Evelyn said. Mandy looked, and fear crept up her spine. ‘John and Jimmy were only fourteen months apart in age,’ Evelyn continued, ‘and were often mistaken for twins. They were the same height, had the same brown hair and very similar features. Except Jimmy always had a moustache and John never had one, ever. Mandy, I know you remember the attack but in the dark and the terror of being woken you were mistaken about your attacker. Think back. You cried out for help and Sarah heard and came in. She saw Jimmy on top of you and screamed. Do you remember? Then I came and Jimmy fled past me. It was Jimmy who attacked you, not John, I promise you, love. We both saw him.’

Mandy continued to stare at the photograph. John and Jimmy: the same height and build, with features so similar they could
easily pass as twins. Only Jimmy had a thick moustache and John didn’t. The moustache Mandy remembered scratching her cheek as he caught her off the slide, and then tearing at her mouth as he tried to kiss her that night, when she’d woken petrified to find him on top of her in the dark. She remembered Jimmy and how uncomfortable she’d felt around him even before that night. Her mouth went dry and her legs trembled as she recognized the truth in Evelyn’s words.

‘Do you remember now, Mandy?’ Evelyn was saying. ‘Do you remember?’

Mandy slowly nodded. She had gone cold and felt so weak. She sat on the bed. Evelyn sat next to her.

‘Your dad blamed us for not protecting you,’ Evelyn said, ‘and he was right to do so. But we were punished – we crucified ourselves with guilt. John disowned Jimmy that night and we’ve had no contact with him or his family since. But, Mandy, while your father was right to blame us – we should have seen the warning signs and protected you – he was wrong to simply cut us off and not talk about it. You can’t bury something like that. It’s not healthy.’

‘I know,’ Mandy said quietly. ‘I know.’

They were silent for some moments. Evelyn placed her hand lightly on Mandy’s arm and they both gazed at the photograph she still held. A small weight began to lift from Mandy’s shoulders – the truth was out and she wasn’t in any way to blame. She’d never encouraged Jimmy, consciously or otherwise, by having a crush on him; far from it, she’d always shied away from him and had kept her distance. She could now remember other times when he’d kissed her cheek, his moustache scratching, or tickled her for too long, or patted her bottom, or winked suggestively when no one was looking: the warning signs Evelyn had referred
to. She also remembered how she’d recoiled from his advances. No, she wasn’t to blame for the attack, and her relief was enormous.

‘What happened to Jimmy?’ she asked at length, handing back the photograph. ‘Was he prosecuted?’

Evelyn shook her head and slid the photograph into her dressinggown pocket. ‘Your father didn’t want the police involved. He thought being interviewed and having to give evidence would cause you even more upset. He wanted you to forget it and move on with your life – he thought that was best. Mandy, I would be lying if I said we weren’t relieved. It wouldn’t have done us any good if we’d had to go to court and it was splashed over the local newspapers, nor John’s business. And I was relieved that Sarah wouldn’t have to give evidence, which would have been very upsetting for her.’

‘So that was it? Matter finished?’ Mandy asked, upset that it had all been brushed away so easily.

Evelyn nodded. ‘Although you did see a doctor the following day.’

‘And?’

‘I don’t know the details but I understand it had stopped short of rape. Which confirmed to your father that he needn’t go to the police.’

Mandy gave a small cynical laugh.

‘I’m sorry, love,’ Evelyn said, taking Mandy’s hand between hers. ‘I really am. I’m sorry we didn’t protect you, sorry we lost you, and sorry you had to find out like this.’

Mandy looked at her aunt – so genuine and sincere in her apology, her heart went out to her. ‘It wasn’t your fault,’ she said quietly. ‘And I suppose Dad only did what he thought was best.’ She let out a small sigh. ‘The power of the mind. We didn’t speak of it, it wasn’t dealt with, so as far as I was concerned it didn’t
happen. I wonder if I would have ever remembered if I hadn’t come back to this house?’

‘I think you would have remembered eventually,’ Evelyn said. ‘Something would have triggered a memory – a chance remark or a smell, then you would have asked a question.’ She paused. ‘When this is all over and you are home, I think it might be a good idea if you saw a counsellor.’

‘Why? Do you think I’m mad?’ Mandy asked with a small tight laugh.

‘No, far from it. I think you’ve coped incredibly well. But it’s often easier to talk to someone outside the family. Sarah saw a counsellor for a year after it had happened.’

‘Did she?’ Mandy asked, surprised.

Evelyn hesitated. ‘Yes. She was very distressed – by what she’d witnessed and also because she’d lost your friendship. You were so very close, like sisters.’

‘I know.’ But the irony didn’t escape her; that while Sarah, a witness to the assault, had received counselling, she, the victim, had not. ‘Mum and Dad need to start talking about it as well,’ Mandy said. ‘And Gran. It can’t have been easy for them keeping a lid on it all this time.’

‘No, indeed,’ Evelyn said sadly. ‘They’ve suffered badly.’

There was so much to think about, so much to consider now she knew, Mandy thought, it was overwhelming, and in some ways more frightening than not knowing. Slipping her hand from Evelyn’s, she moved away. ‘Will you explain to John before I come down?’

‘Of course.’

‘And if I get the chance, I’ll tell Grandpa I know, and that everything’s going to be all right.’

Evelyn smiled weakly. ‘That will be a great relief to him. Thank God it’s out in the open now and we can all stop pretending.’

D
awn was breaking as, an hour later, Mandy entered the study. The curtains had been opened and the lava lamp switched off for the day. Grandpa stirred but didn’t wake. John looked up from his armchair with a mixture of alarm and apprehension. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said almost lightly, sitting in the chair beside him. ‘I’m not going to slap your face again.’

He looked at her, still uncertain despite her words, and then, reading her face, visibly relaxed. She felt his gaze on her as she looked across the room towards the bed. The only sound for some moments was Grandpa’s laboured breathing. Then she heard John’s voice, slight and imploring. ‘The photos on my laptop were completely innocent, Mandy, I swear.’

She looked at him, and nodded. ‘I know, Evelyn explained. But why did you behave so secretively? Guiltily – taking the laptop out to close the file?’

He rubbed his hand across his forehead. ‘I thought you didn’t want to see the photographs – that you would be upset by mementoes of your past. Because you never spoke of the time you spent here I assumed you didn’t want reminders. Unlike Sarah. Her counsellor told us to compile the photo albums so she could see all the good times you’d shared. It was one of the things he suggested for helping her through that time. I never dreamt you could misinterpret them.’

‘I never spoke of my past here because I couldn’t remember it,’ Mandy said lamely.

‘I know that now. And you do believe it wasn’t me who came into your room that night?’ John asked, his anxiety returning. ‘I always loved and treated you as a daughter. I would never…’ He stopped, unable to complete the sentence and voice the horrendous alternative.

‘Yes, I know,’ she said quietly. ‘I believe you.’

He paused reflectively, collecting himself before he spoke. ‘Mandy, I would have given evidence if it had gone to court. I would have given evidence against my own brother. But I understood why your father thought it would be too traumatic for you. I’d have probably done the same if it had been Sarah.’ He stopped again, his face creasing at the thought of his daughter being attacked.

‘I can appreciate why you and Dad would think like that, and want to protect us,’ Mandy said. ‘But how can you be certain Jimmy hasn’t gone on and abused others?’

‘I can’t,’ John said, ‘and I’ll live with that for ever.’

It was as if Grandpa knew that the demon of silence had been exorcized, Mandy thought, and the secret that had tainted the family’s lives for so long had finally been exposed and was being dealt with, and he could relax. While she’d been upstairs the nurse had arrived and given Grandpa another injection, and although it was no stronger than the previous ones and was not expected to last any longer, the hour’s release from pain stretched into two hours, then three, and Grandpa slept on, throughout the morning. It was a deep and peaceful sleep where he lay very still and comfortable with his head resting lightly in the small hollow of the pillow, his slow irregular breaths the only sign of life.

John had planned to attend a meeting at work at 1 p.m. but sent his apologies for absence instead. Evelyn phoned Sarah and said Grandpa was sleeping peacefully, and Mandy phoned her father at work and left a message on his voicemail saying the same. The atmosphere in the study, which had held so much darkness and pain, now seemed lighter, as though a veil had been lifted. Mandy knew that Grandpa had finally been released from his prison and the hourglass was slowly emptying its last few grains of sand.

When the nurse made his routine visit shortly after 2 p.m. they grouped around the bed and waited in silent expectation as he took Grandpa’s pulse. ‘He’s very comfortable now,’ he said gently, returning his arm to beneath the sheet. ‘Two days at the most. I’m not going to disturb him further by examining him; he’ll be dry.’

The nurse hovered with one hand on Grandpa’s shoulder, reluctant to leave. Mandy thought how difficult it must be to keep having to say goodbye to the patients he’d grown close to – a continual cycle of bereavements. She knew she couldn’t have done his job. ‘Sleep tight, Mr Edwards,’ he said at last, patting Grandpa’s shoulder one final time. ‘You deserved it; good man.’

The nurse said he would look in again that evening, but to phone if they needed him sooner. John and Evelyn saw him out, which left Mandy alone with Gran. ‘I don’t think I’ll phone Dad and tell him to come,’ she said.

‘No,’ Gran agreed. ‘There’s no point. Will won’t wake again now.’

Mandy hesitated. ‘Gran, I know what happened ten years ago to make my visits stop. I can remember now.’

Gran nodded stoically. ‘Evelyn told me.’

‘And you’re not surprised?’

‘No. I thought you coming here would take the lid off it, one way or another. Dying is a great leveller – for everyone.’

And as if in agreement, as if the words had filtered down through the layers of unconsciousness and found an audience, Grandpa took an extra breath and the briefest of smiles seemed to flicker across his lips.

‘He knows,’ Gran said.

The afternoon gave way to evening and Grandpa slept on without any obvious sign of change or any need for medication. Mrs Saunders served dinner and before she left for the night she made a point of saying ‘Goodbye, Mr Edwards’ rather than her usual ‘Goodnight’. There were tears in her eyes as she left. The nurse looked in again at 7.30 and took Grandpa’s temperature and pulse. ‘You’re certainly keeping us all in suspense, Mr Edwards,’ he said. ‘Another night?’ And they smiled, able to share the nurse’s small humour. Grandpa was peaceful and no longer in pain. He was ending his natural life, naturally, as it should be.

At 9 p.m., having had her Ovaltine, Gran said she would go to bed. John offered to make up a bed in the study so she could stay with Grandpa, but Gran said not to worry, she’d said goodbye before he’d gone. John nodded. They understood what she meant, for it seemed there was just the shell of Grandpa left now, and whatever had made him – his soul? – was no longer there. Gran said goodnight and kissed his lips just as she did every night, and then added: ‘See you soon, love. I won’t be long.’ Mandy felt her eyes brim.

Evelyn saw Gran upstairs and said she was going to lie down too, but they must wake her if there was any change or if they needed help. By 9.30 Mandy and John had settled in their usual armchairs ready for another night. ‘It’s like
University Challenge.
’ John quipped. ‘I’ve started so I’ll finish.’ Mandy smiled, relaxed.

John opened his laptop and began to work. Mandy answered a couple of texts, and then returned her mobile to her bag and rested her head back. She gazed across the room. The lava lamp once more bathed the study in its red glow as the bubbles continued their relentless journey going nowhere. Mandy knew she would never possess a lava lamp, nor any light with a red glow, for as long as she lived; it would remind her of this study and make her very sad. After a while John paused from tapping the keys on his laptop and looked at her. ‘Would you like to see the photos in that album, Mandy?’

She nodded.

Closing the file he was working on, he opened another. Angling the laptop slightly towards her so they could both see the screen, he clicked the mouse to start the slide show. ‘Album one,’ he said. ‘Baby to five years.’ A photo of her as a small baby being cradled by Sarah filled the screen. They were in the sitting room of this house although the sofa and wallpaper were different. This photograph was replaced by one of Evelyn holding her, again on the sofa.

Mandy turned slightly in her chair to make herself more comfortable as one picture followed another at five-second intervals. Her as a baby – being cuddled by Sarah, Evelyn, and then John, taken in this house on one of her parents’ many visits. Then she was a few months old and sitting on their laps, all of them smiling – a happy family group. Mandy knew there were photograph albums at her parents’ house containing pictures of Evelyn, John and Sarah, but the albums had disappeared from the bookshelf years ago when Mandy’s visits had stopped. ‘I’ve put them away,’ her mother had said when Mandy had asked where they’d gone. ‘They’ll make you upset.’ Mandy had accepted this, perhaps too readily, and had never thought – or dared – to ask why.

The picture changed again and Mandy was a toddler playing in the garden with Sarah who, a year older, was leading the game of what could have been ‘tag’. Next the two of them were in the paddling pool on a hot sunny day, then running naked across the lawn. She laughed; her nakedness seemed quite cute now in the context of how she knew the photos had been taken – within a normal extended loving family. Autumn followed summer, and then winter came. Sarah and she were posing proudly beside a large snowman with a huge orange carrot for a nose. A few photos later and it was summer again and the photo that now filled the screen was the one she’d found previously: Sarah and she playing naked under the sprinkler, their little bodies pale and flawless, glistening in the sun.

‘Did Jimmy ever see these?’ Mandy suddenly asked, looking up.

John looked slightly taken aback and shook his head. ‘We didn’t ever really see that much of Jimmy, even before that weekend. Although he was my brother Evelyn was never taken with him, right from the start.’

‘Perhaps she saw something in him she didn’t like,’ Mandy offered, remembering her own feelings of unease when he’d come near her.

‘That’s what Evelyn said. But he was my brother and until that night I had no reason to doubt him.’

‘No,’ she agreed hesitantly, and returned her attention to the laptop as the first album ended with Sarah’s fourth birthday party.

John closed this album and opened the next. ‘Five to eight years old,’ he said. ‘This is when you started sleeping over.’

It began with another birthday party. A clown with a big red nose and brightly coloured costume was entertaining about a dozen children. Mandy saw herself seated on the floor with
Sarah’s other friends laughing at the magic. Then they were in the garden, seated either side of long refectory table and eating a party tea. As with the other photographs taken when Mandy was old enough to remember, they were starting to become familiar. The next picture was of Sarah and her wobbling on bicycles as they tried to navigate an obstacle course constructed on the lower lawn. ‘I remember that!’ Mandy said. ‘You helped us build those little bridges to ride over. The ones we built collapsed.’

‘That’s right,’ John said, pleased. ‘I did. And what about this next one? Which one is the donkey?’

Mandy playfully tapped John’s arm for the photograph now showing was of Sarah and her on donkeys at the village fête. Gaily coloured stalls could be seen in the background together with a large Victorian-style merry-go-round.

‘I know I had some very good times here,’ Mandy said reflectively. ‘Thanks to you and Evelyn. You were like a second mum and dad to me.’

‘I’m glad you feel that way,’ John said. ‘I’m glad we can enjoy the past again.’

The slide show continued. Mandy smiled at the memories as John supplied the date and occasion on which the photo had been taken if she couldn’t immediately place it. Engrossed in the pictures, it was a few minutes before she realized that the air had grown unnaturally still, and was far too quiet. That the deep and laboured breathing which had dominated the study for so long had finally stopped.