The Girl in the Mirror (23 page)

Mrs Osborne’s eyes darted briefly to Hannah and then back again. When she spoke it was almost to condemn her. ‘No, Mandy, you’re wrong. It was the worst possible decision they could have made. And not only for you.’

‘
I
didn’t doubt Jimmy,’ Mrs Osborne continued with unsettling detachment. ‘I believed him, and the fact that the police weren’t involved confirmed what he’d said. If I’d had any doubts, if my suspicions had been roused, I’m sure I would have been more vigilant – more aware. But I didn’t have doubts. We never mentioned that night, your family, nor John’s family ever again – until last year.’

Mrs Osborne’s voice had gone very cold and a dreadful sense of foreboding settled on Mandy. Mrs Osborne paused and in that moment Mandy knew that whatever she was about to hear could have been avoided if Jimmy had been reported, and therefore she and her family were at least partly to blame.

‘Jimmy visited his mother regularly,’ Mrs Osborne continued. ‘She never doubted Jimmy, not for one moment, and was very angry with John for believing you. I understand she gave John a rough time for years and tried to make him apologize to Jimmy, but he never did. Eventually she stopped talking to Jimmy about his brother and the subject was dropped. Both her sons visited her at the nursing home, but never at the same time. John always went on a Saturday and Jimmy on Sunday. One Christmas Eve Jimmy stopped by unexpectedly and when he went into the sitting room, where all the residents were gathered, he found John already there. He left without being seen and waited in the car until John had left. As far as I know that’s the only time Jimmy
saw John in all those years. And for me, knowing that Jimmy’s mother had so much faith in him confirmed his innocence in my mind. After the initial upset of being accused by John and banished from his house, life continued as normal for us, until last year when the police arrived and Jimmy was arrested.’

‘
Arrested?
’ Mandy asked, stunned. ‘But I didn’t ever report him.’

‘No, not because of you.’

Mandy stared at Mrs Osborne and her stomach contracted with fear. ‘So there was someone else?’

‘Yes.’ She nodded and rubbed her hand over her eyes. ‘Unfortunately there was.’ She paused before continuing. ‘It was a Sunday evening and Jimmy and I were sitting here, watching the latenight film. Suddenly there was loud banging on the front door. Jimmy told me to stay put while he went to see who it was. He thought it might be yobs from the estate. The next minute the house was full of police. Three came in here with Jimmy and me, and stayed with us while the others searched the house. They wouldn’t tell us what they wanted and Jimmy said he didn’t know either. I thought it must be a mistake. Hannah and Vanessa were asleep upstairs and the police went into their rooms and woke them. I was only allowed to go up and comfort them after they’d searched their room. They were very frightened.’ Mrs Osborne glanced at Hannah. ‘Jimmy was so angry, he kept demanding the police tell him what the hell was going on, but all they would say was it was part of an investigation. Then they took him to the police station for questioning. They also took away our computer and Jimmy’s laptop. I tried phoning the station to find out what was happening but they wouldn’t tell me anything. I was at my wits’ end but I had to stay calm for the sake of the girls. Jimmy finally came home at three a.m. and said he hadn’t been charged, that there’d been a misunderstanding. Did this remind me of the
other “misunderstanding”? No, why should it? I still didn’t know why the police had taken him in for questioning. When I asked Jimmy he became very angry and told me to drop it.

‘It wasn’t until Hannah went to school the following day,’ Mrs Osborne continued in the same flat and emotionless voice, ‘that the girls and I found out. Hannah was in her first year of secondary school and she came home in tears. The whole school was talking about us. On the Saturday before Jimmy was arrested Hannah had had a friend, Katie, sleep over. I had put up a Z-bed in Hannah’s room. When Katie went home on Sunday she told her mother that Jimmy had gone into her bedroom during the night and, while Hannah slept, had tried to rape her. Did he really think he’d get away with it? That Katie wouldn’t report him!’ She stopped, tears springing from her eyes.

‘It’s possible,’ Mandy said quietly. ‘He got away with it with me.’ She looked from mother to daughter. Her stomach was churning and was so tight that for a moment she thought she was going to be sick. She knew what Katie had gone through – she could feel it. She also knew that she was responsible. If she’d reported Jimmy then Katie would never have had to suffer the same fate.

‘Sorry,’ Mrs Osborne said after a moment, wiping her eyes on the tissue Hannah passed her. ‘I never dreamed I’d be telling you all this. Never, ever.’

‘Did you believe he’d done it this time?’ Mandy asked at length.

Mrs Osborne nodded. ‘Yes, although of course he kept denying it. I also realized then that you’d been telling the truth. The thought that I’d been sharing my bed all those years with a…I had started divorce proceedings when Jimmy died.’

‘Was he prosecuted for attacking Katie?’ Mandy asked, aware her Internet search had shown Jimmy didn’t have a criminal record.

Mrs Osborne shook her head. ‘No. Like you, when Katie found out what was involved – the medical, and having to give evidence – she didn’t feel she could go ahead. She was also told it would be difficult to prove as Jimmy was of sound character. Respectable, they said.’

Mandy looked away. ‘That wouldn’t have been true if I’d reported him. He’d have had a police record.’

‘We’ll never know for sure,’ Mrs Osborne said. ‘Don’t blame yourself, love. If you want to blame someone now Jimmy is dead, blame me.’ She sat back on the sofa, closed her eyes, and emotion overtook her.

Hannah came over and put her arm around her mother. ‘Mum, it wasn’t your fault. You weren’t to know.’

Mandy looked at mother and daughter comforting each other on the sofa and her heart went out to them. She knew she should go now; staying any longer would be insensitive and intrusive. Jimmy was dead and hopefully she’d gain some closure from that, and also from what Mrs Osborne had told her. Although of course she now had to come to terms with knowing another girl had suffered as a result of her family’s silence.

‘Thank you for telling me all this,’ Mandy said quietly. ‘I really appreciate it. It has helped.’ She placed her glass on the coffee table and stood.

Hannah took her arm from around her mother and they both stood too. Mrs Osborne turned to face Mandy. ‘I’m so sorry for all you’ve been through, really I am,’ she said. She gave Mandy a hug while Hannah hung back. She was obviously close to tears.

They went with her to the front door where Mrs Osborne apologized again. ‘Look after yourself, love,’ she said.

‘And you.’ With a small sad smile Mandy turned and walked down the path. She heard the front door close behind her.

She joined the pavement and glanced back at the neat, outwardly respectable house where Jimmy had lived with his wife and two daughters. As she would now have to come to terms with the past in order to move on, so too would his widow and daughters, and in some respects it would be worse for them. How did you ever come to terms with your husband or father being a rapist? She shuddered at the thought.

R
etracing her steps down Hawthorn Drive and along Berry Lane, Mandy came to the bus stop in Cranberry Avenue. She took her place in the queue with three others and switched on her phone. As it came to life it bleeped with two text messages, one from Adam:
Fone if u r back in time 2nite,
and the other advising her she had a voicemail message. She pressed call-back and heard her father’s voice saying he’d pick her up at 9.30 a.m. It was Grandpa’s funeral the following day and she was going with her parents in their car. She texted his mobile:
Thanx 4 mssge. c u 2mrrw. luv m.
Returning her phone to her bag she looked down the road in the direction the bus would be coming, and vaguely watched the passing traffic.

She hadn’t thought to ask how Jimmy had died, and it didn’t really matter. The end result was the same. She supposed it must have been a heart attack or cancer; that’s what usually seemed to kill middle-aged men. She wondered again at the grieving process his wife and daughter were going through – losing someone they’d loved but at the same time hating him for what he’d done. And again Mandy’s heart went out to them for what they were struggling to come to terms with.

The bus arrived; there were only aisle seats left and she sat next to a teenage girl who was listening to her iPod. It was about twenty minutes to the station and then, if the train and tubes were running a good service, two hours home. She should be home
about 7 p.m. – early enough to see Adam. But before she phoned him to say she was home she knew she’d have to phone her aunt and uncle and tell them of Jimmy’s death. She knew she had a duty to tell them and it was a duty she needed to discharge as soon as possible – certainly before she saw them at the funeral the following day. But it wasn’t something you could say on a mobile in public, the bus was crowded, so she’d wait until she got home to call them in private.

Fifteen minutes later the bus pulled into the station terminus and Mandy got off. It was the start of rush hour and the station was busier that it had been when she’d arrived. She needed to use the Ladies before she boarded the train and she threaded her way through the commuters to the WC. Coming out, she crossed to the kiosk and bought a chocolate bar and bottle of water for the journey. Then she checked on the signboard for the time and platform of the next train into Paddington: 17.05 from Platform 3.

Suddenly she heard a small cry from behind and someone arrived at her side. ‘Hannah! Whatever are you doing here?’ Mandy gasped. The girl was still in her school uniform and was flushed from running.

‘I need to talk to you,’ she panted, looking at her anxiously.

For a second Mandy thought something dreadful must have happened as a result of her visit. ‘What’s the matter? Is your mother all right?’

‘Yes, but I have to tell you something. Something Mum couldn’t tell you and I think you should know.’

Mandy hesitated. What on earth could Hannah have to tell her that her mother hadn’t felt able to? ‘Does your mother know you’re here?’

Hannah nodded. ‘She tried to stop me from coming, but I insisted. I must talk to you. Please.’

Mandy could see her desperation. ‘All right.’ She looked around for somewhere they could go. There was a small coffee bar near the entrance to the station. ‘We can go over there. Do you want a drink?’ Hannah shook her head.

Going in, Mandy bought a coffee for herself and set it on the table between them. She looked at Hannah and waited. She was a plain but attractive girl with long fair hair. She had inherited her mother’s features, which was just as well, Mandy thought, for she would have found it very difficult to sit opposite a face that reminded her of Jimmy.

Hannah fiddled with the cuff on her school shirt and then suddenly blurted: ‘What my mum told you about my father not being prosecuted wasn’t true.’

‘No?’ Mandy asked shocked.

Hannah shook her head. ‘He was going to be prosecuted and would have gone to prison if he hadn’t died.’

Mandy looked at her, completely taken aback but at a loss to understand what she was trying to tell her. ‘I’m sorry, Hannah, I don’t understand.’

She stopped fiddling with her cuff and looked up sharply. ‘He would have gone to prison for a long time if he hadn’t died. But not because of Katie, because of me.’

Mandy stared at her and turned cold. ‘Why? Because of something you told the police?’ she asked tentatively.

Hannah gave a small nod and looked down at her cuff again. ‘I reported my father to the police because of what he did to me.’

Dear God, Mandy thought, not his own daughter! Surely not. She stared horrified at Hannah as she tugged at her cuff, and waited.

‘There was enough evidence to convict him this time,’ Hannah said after a moment. ‘I made sure of it. I took the sheets from my
bed and I let a police doctor examine me. I was prepared to go to court.’

Mandy reached out and touched her arm. ‘I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say.’ She felt her eyes mist and a lump rise in her throat. Hannah sat passively staring at the table between them. ‘I’m sorry,’ Mandy said again, helpless in the face of her suffering.

‘I was ten when it began,’ Hannah said in the same flat and emotionless voice and without meeting her eyes. ‘He came into my room one evening when Mum was out, and raped me. It went on for two years – whenever he had the opportunity. It only stopped when I reported him to the police. I don’t know why I didn’t tell Mum. I think it was because he made me believe it was my fault.’ She looked up sharply and met Mandy’s eyes. ‘He said I was sexy and since I’d started to get breasts I’d been leading him on and teasing him. He said if I told Mum, she and Vanessa would blame me and hate me for ever. He said I’d be put in a children’s home and no one would ever visit me again. It sounds ridiculous now but I was so confused and frightened I believed what he said. He also said if I stopped him there was always Vanessa. She was eight at the time.’ She shrugged. ‘I guess I felt by letting him continue I was protecting my sister.’

Hannah was calm as she spoke, too calm, Mandy thought, as though all the emotion had been wrung from her and she had nothing left to feel. ‘He wouldn’t have got away with it this time,’ Hannah added tightly. ‘He would have been put in prison for a long time. But he died first.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ Mandy said again, completely overwhelmed. ‘I can only guess at what you must be going through.’

Hannah looked at her. ‘It was you who finally made me go to the police and report him.’

‘Me?’

‘Yes. Last Christmas Mum got out some old family photographs. We were looking at them, Dad as well, and there was a picture of you with Uncle John and Auntie Evelyn from when you were little. I asked Dad why we never saw Uncle John and he flew into a rage and tore up the photo. Then he had a right go at Mum. It was a rotten Christmas. Later I asked Mum why he’d been so angry and Mum said it was because you’d caused a lot of trouble by saying things about him that weren’t true. I knew then that he’d done something to you. I just knew it. And to Katie as well. I knew I had to stop him. The day after Boxing Day I went to the police. Later that afternoon they arrested him and he died the following day.’

Hannah stopped and Mandy reached over and took her hand in hers. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said again. Then with the need to now know everything she asked gently: ‘How did he die?’

Hannah hesitated and Mandy saw her bottom lip tremble; it was the first emotion she’d shown since she’d started to tell her. ‘After he’d been charged he was released on bail but he wasn’t allowed to come home or anywhere near me. That evening the police came to our home and said he was dead. He’d committed suicide.’ Mandy shuddered and held her hand tightly. ‘He jumped under a train in London. So now I have to live with the guilt of being responsible for his suicide as well as everything else. I don’t know whether to feel relieved or sorry he’s dead. I’d like to believe none of it’s my fault, but I can’t.’

Mandy held her hand. It was some time before she spoke; words seemed totally ineffective beside the enormity of what Hannah had gone through – was still going through. ‘If only I’d reported him,’ Mandy said at last. ‘You and Katie wouldn’t have suffered.’

Hannah gave a small shrug. ‘Mum says the only person to blame is him.’

They were silent again, then Hannah’s phone rang from the pocket of her school blazer. She took it out and answered it. ‘Yes, Mum, I’m with her now. No, at the station. Yes, I won’t be long.’ She closed the phone and returned it to her pocket. ‘Mum worries about me all the time.’

‘I can understand why.’

’Anyway,’ Hannah said with a small shrug, ‘I wanted you to know. And maybe we could keep in touch? I think it would help if I could talk to you sometimes – like an older sister. Is that OK?’

‘Yes, of course. Give me your number and I’ll put it in my phone, then I’ll text you and you’ll have my number.’ Mandy took her phone from her bag and as Hannah recited the number of her phone she entered it in hers.

‘Are you getting help? Counselling?’ Mandy asked after a moment.

‘Yes, I go once a fortnight.’

‘Good.’

They were silent again. Mandy took a sip from the coffee which was now cold and, pulling a face, pushed the cup to one side.

Hannah smiled. ‘I’d better be going. Mum will be worried. Thanks for listening.’

‘Thanks for telling me. It was very brave of you. It helps me.’

Hannah shrugged. ‘I don’t feel brave. I often feel like shit. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t said anything.’

Mandy leant across the table in earnest. ‘Hannah, you did right. Believe me. I know how difficult it is now. You’ve suffered dreadfully but you did the right thing. If you hadn’t reported him he wouldn’t have stopped, and how long would it have been before he went on to abuse your sister? And others after her.’

‘That’s what Mum says. I guess I have to give myself time.’ She shrugged, unconvinced, and stood.

Mandy also stood and walked with her out of the coffee shop and on to the station concourse. They turned to face each other and hugged. ‘I’ll text when I’m on the train,’ Mandy said.

‘Thanks.’ Hannah turned, and Mandy watched her walk away. She’d been through so much, how was she coping? How could her life or her mother’s ever be normal again? It made Mandy’s own suffering seem manageable beside hers.

Checking the signboard Mandy saw the next train for Paddington was in five minutes, and she made her way to Platform 3. As she went she texted Hannah so she would have her number:
You did the right thing and it was never ever yr fault. luv mandy x.

A minute later a text came back:
Thanks x.