The Girl in the Mirror (7 page)

Close up, the village shop was even more familiar than it had been when they’d driven past the day before. Mandy was sure the door was the same shade of green as when she’d visited as a child. With a pang of nostalgia, she saw the window displays were as cluttered, enticing and unsophisticated as ever. It was one of those small village shops where a sample of virtually everything they sold appeared in the bay windows: greeting cards, cooking utensils, a pan, nails and a hammer, pencils, tea, sugar, paper, a rug; and the small china ornaments which Mandy knew had appealed
so much to her and Sarah as children, and which they’d saved up their pocket money to buy.

The bell clanged as she opened the door and entered the store. She glanced around. It was as familiar inside as it had been out, and she was sure the layout had barely altered in ten years. But then if you carried this much stock, she thought, there wasn’t much you could alter – all the floor space was taken up by tiered shelving. A woman was being served by a young assistant at the post office counter and an elderly man was examining greeting cards. Over to her right two middle-aged women chatted in front of a glass display counter, and behind the counter a similar-aged woman in a nylon overall stood patiently waiting to serve them. She looked at Mandy with a brief smile. Mandy met her gaze and returned her smile. Then she stared and felt her heart miss a beat. She was sure that the woman was Mrs Pryce, the woman Gran had asked to be remembered to. But what Mandy hadn’t realized when Gran had mentioned her was that Mrs Pryce had been the housekeeper at her aunt’s during all the years Mandy had visited as a child. Mrs Pryce had looked away; she hadn’t recognized her.

I
t was a shock suddenly seeing her like that – a flash from the past. And why hadn’t Evelyn or Gran said something?
You’ll remember Mrs Pryce. She used to be the housekeeper here when you stayed.
True, Gran had asked to be remembered to Mrs Pryce, but why not tell her who she was? Mandy didn’t understand, and understood even less Evelyn’s pointed remark about not using the store any more; unless of course Mrs Pryce had been dismissed from her service? That could possibly explain it.

Mandy made her way between the narrow aisles of display stands, careful not to nudge anything that could send an item toppling. The shop door clanged open and shut again and a small child came in with his mother who cautioned him not to touch anything. Mandy looked over as Mrs Pryce said good morning to the woman and asked if her child was better. It was definitely the old housekeeper. She was sure. She’d known her so well from all the times she’d stayed as a child. Mrs Pryce had been in her aunt’s service for years, as much a part of the household as Mrs Saunders was now, probably more, for she’d lived in and taken on the role of nanny when Sarah had been little. And while Mrs Pryce certainly didn’t seem like someone who’d be given the sack, Mandy couldn’t think of another explanation for Evelyn’s cool rejection.

Reining in her thoughts, Mandy scanned the tiers of shelves and found the disposable razors she was looking for, then picked up a
copy of the
Daily Mail
from the bottom shelf. John had
The Times
and
Telegraph
delivered but Mandy wanted something lighter to read. Going into the next aisle she found the stationery section; on one shelf lay three small sketch pads next to a jar of HB pencils and other writing implements. She took one of the sketch pads and a pencil, and then selected an eraser and a small plastic pencil sharpener. Perhaps if she managed to sketch some of the local country scenes she’d be able to paint them when she returned home.

Picking up a small bar of milk chocolate Mandy crossed to the till. Mrs Pryce was behind the counter, having just served the man with the greeting card. As she approached she felt her stomach flutter nervously. Mrs Pryce looked at her with a polite smile but there was nothing in her manner to suggest she recognized her. Mandy placed the items she was buying on the glass-topped counter and summoned the courage to say something. She felt strangely nervous.

‘Are you Mrs Pryce?’ she asked, almost blurted, as the woman took the first item to ring into the till.

She paused, surprised, and then looked puzzled. ‘Yes. Sorry, do I know you?’

‘You used to,’ Mandy said. ‘My gran is Mrs Edwards. She sends her regards. I’m Mandy.’

Amazement and delight spread across Mrs Pryce’s face, and Mandy relaxed. ‘Good heavens! Little Amanda. After all these years! I’m sorry, love, I didn’t recognize you.’

‘It’s not surprising really, I was only thirteen when you last saw me, but I recognized you the moment I walked in. You haven’t changed at all.’

To a woman in her early sixties this was clearly a compliment, and Mrs Pryce smiled appreciatively. ‘How are you, dear?’ she asked warmly. ‘And how are Mr and Mrs Edwards? I heard they
were staying at your aunt’s because of Mr Edwards being ill. But I didn’t know you were there too.’

‘Grandpa is very poorly,’ Mandy confirmed. ‘I came with Dad yesterday, just for a visit, but I’m staying on to help.’

‘That’s nice of you, but then you were always a thoughtful child. You look very well. How are you and your family?’ There seemed to be no reluctance on her part to ask after her family, Mandy thought, which made Evelyn’s attitude towards her even more puzzling.

‘Mum and Dad are well, although they’re obviously very concerned about Grandpa. They’re visiting again later today. I’m sure they’ll be delighted when I tell them I’ve seen you.’ Mandy paused, unsure of how to continue now the initial surprise of their meeting was over. ‘I seem to remember you looked after Sarah and me when I stayed. I hope we didn’t cause you too much trouble.’

Mrs Pryce smiled indulgently. ‘Only children having fun. I loved it when you came; there was always so much excitement. Do you still see Sarah?’

‘No, not since my visits stopped.’

Mrs Pryce’s previous open and obvious delight at seeing her again after so long was now replaced by something closed and more serious. She lowered her gaze and, drawing the items across the counter, began entering them into the till.

‘Evelyn said Sarah will visit later in the week,’ Mandy added, and Mrs Pryce nodded non-committally.

Mandy didn’t know what to say now. She would have liked to have talked about the past and heard what Mrs Pryce had to say about the times she’d looked after Mandy at her aunt’s, but she felt the way in was barred. Unhooking her bag from her shoulder, she took out her purse as Mrs Pryce, eyes down, rang up the last item. ‘That’s £4.78 please, dear. Would you like a carrier?’

‘Please,’ Mandy said, and took out a £10 note as Mrs Pryce placed the items in a bag. ‘You don’t see Evelyn and John now?’ Mandy tried. ‘You were with them a long time.’

‘Yes, I was. Fourteen years. I see Mr and Mrs Osborne driving through the village sometimes, but not to talk to, not since I left – ten years ago.’ She passed the carrier to Mandy and then counted the change into her palm. Mandy felt a formality had crept into Mrs Pryce’s manner, which she was sure had never been there when she’d known her as a child, and indeed didn’t sit happily with her now. ‘Well, it’s been nice meeting you again,’ Mrs Pryce said, almost stiffly. ‘Please remember me to your gran. I’m so sorry Mr Edwards is poorly. And remember me to your parents too.’

‘I will.’ Mandy hovered. ‘I might pop in again if I need something.’ Mrs Pryce gave a small nod. ‘Yes, dear.’ She turned to the next customer.

The door clanged shut behind Mandy as she set off along the narrow pavement in the direction of her aunt’s. Apparently the only persons Mrs Pryce didn’t want to be remembered to were Evelyn and John, she thought. And they hadn’t spoken in ten years despite living in the same small village! Clearly the rift between them ran very deep.

Mandy took the chocolate bar from the carrier bag and, peeling back the foil, bit off a chunk. She savoured the creamy sweet texture as it melted on her tongue. Seeing Mrs Pryce again seemed to release a few more memories, and her thoughts returned to her childhood and the times Sarah and she had been left under the watchful eye of the housekeeper while Evelyn was out or busy. Dear, kind Mrs Pryce with her neatly rollered greying hair, so
conservative in dress and habit, how they’d teased her and played her up. Mandy cringed as she remembered the time Sarah and she had put damp soil from the garden in the toes of her shoes. Mrs Pryce, like Mrs Saunders, always changed into ‘house shoes’ when she arrived and she’d been too embarrassed to say anything as she’d pushed her feet into her shoes and felt the wet earth. Or the time they’d put salt in the jug of water on the table at dinner and John had taken a large gulp and spat it out, then blamed Mrs Pryce for not being more vigilant instead of Sarah and her – the real culprits. Mandy remembered too the fantasies Sarah and she had made up about Mrs Pryce: caught in a state of undress with the gardener in the potting shed, or ravishing the butcher as he delivered the meat via the tradesmen’s entrance. Or compromised in the laundry room with Fred Hutch, who used to be the handyman.
Very handy,
Sarah and she had giggled. But now, as then, Mandy had to admit that the chances of Mrs Pryce doing anything improper were minuscule, if not non-existent, which made the cloud hanging over her leaving all the more peculiar.

Mandy crossed the road and paused by the churchyard for a better view of the church. When Gran and she were alone, she decided, she would ask her about Mrs Pryce’s departure, which might possibly also give her some clue as to why her own visits had stopped. Mrs Pryce had said she’d left Evelyn’s service ten years ago, which was the same time she’d been stopped from visiting Sarah. Mandy wondered if the two events could be connected in some way, though she’d no idea how. Try as she might she couldn’t remember anything that might have led to ‘the situation’, as her father called it, and Mrs Pryce didn’t seem the type to be responsible for any bad feeling. Finishing the chocolate bar, she screwed up the wrapper and dropped it into the bin by the entrance to the churchyard, then gazed up at the
church spire set against the azure sky. She narrowed her eyes, straining to capture the sharpness and detail in her mind’s eye with the hope of trying to sketch it later.

Mandy knew the moment Mrs Saunders answered the door something was different. Something wrong? ‘Let me take your coat, miss,’ she flustered. ‘Go straight through to the study, please.’

She quickly passed her jacket to the housekeeper as Evelyn called from the study: ‘Mandy, is that you? Come in quickly.’

She heard the urgency in her aunt’s voice and, fearing the worst, rushed down the hall and into the study. To her amazement and absolute delight Grandpa wasn’t in pain, his condition having worsened as she feared, but was propped up in bed on a mountain of pillows, wide awake and smiling at her.

‘Grandpa!’ she cried, dropping her handbag and carrier bag by the door. ‘You’re awake!’ She nearly ran to the bed, and kissed his forehead. ‘Grandpa,’ she said again delightedly, pressing her cheek against his. ‘It’s so good to see you.’

‘Hello, love. How are you?’ His voice was slow and rasping. It was obviously a lot of effort to speak, but he was awake and talking!

‘I’m fine, Grandpa,’ she said, perching on the bed. ‘I’m so pleased you’re awake. I’ve been for a little walk to the village. How are you?’

‘Could be better,’ he slowly rasped, and managed a small chuckle. Someone had given him his glasses and they hid his sunken eyes, which made him look more like he used to before his illness.

‘He’s so much better,’ Gran said. She was sitting in her usual chair by the bed, with Grandpa’s hand in hers. ‘He woke and asked for something to drink earlier.’

‘That’s fantastic,’ Mandy said. She glanced at Evelyn, who was standing just behind her.

‘He came round about fifteen minutes ago,’ Evelyn said. ‘I was hoping you’d be back in time to see him. But I’ve warned Gran not to expect miracles. He’s still very poorly.’

All right, Mandy thought, we know he’s very ill but we can at least enjoy this moment. She placed her hand on his arm and gently stroked the dry and paper-thin skin. ‘So, Grandpa,’ she joked, ‘what have you been up to in my absence?’

‘Not much,’ he rasped, and then gave a small congested laugh. ‘Won’t be running the marathon this year, love.’ He laughed again. ‘How about you? Painted that masterpiece yet?’

‘Not yet, but when I do you’ll be the first to see it.’

He smiled and his red and watery eyes focused on her. ‘Paint a picture of me, will you, Mandy?’ he said, suddenly serious. ‘And give it to your gran. Something to remember me by when I’m gone. But not like this. Paint one of me young and handsome – when she fancied me.’ He stopped, exhausted.

Mandy felt her eyes well, and swallowed hard. She also felt a sudden wave of panic at what she was being asked. ‘I haven’t painted a portrait since I was at Uni,’ she said. ‘But I’ll try. I promise I’ll try, for you.’

‘Thank you,’ he said quietly. ‘You used to paint lovely portraits. I remember the one you did of your mum.’ A smile crossed his lips and his eyes slowly closed.

‘Mum and Dad are coming later today,’ Mandy said quickly, willing him to stay awake. ‘I hope you’ll be able to see them.’

There was a long pause, and then he took a deep breath, summoning the strength to answer. His eyes briefly flickered open. ‘I hope so too, love,’ he said. His voice drifted off and his eyes closed.

‘Grandpa?’ Mandy said, rubbing his arm. ‘Grandpa, stay awake. I love you so much. Please stay and talk to us.’

But his eyes remained closed and his breathing deepened as he once more lapsed into unconsciousness. His head slowly lolled to one side. ‘Grandpa?’ she tried again, but there was nothing; he could no longer hear them.

Evelyn came forward and removed his glasses, folding them into the case. ‘It was nice he was awake long enough to see you,’ she said. ‘He asked for you as soon as he came round.’

They were supposed to be words of comfort, but they made the pain worse. She stood up and fled the room. Hurrying down the hall she went into the cloakroom and locked the door so she could cry in private. Dear Grandpa; she loved him so very much. She really couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. He and Gran had been such a large part of her life, for as long as she could remember. She’d always had a special bond with her grandpa; they were similar in many ways and shared the same view on life and sense of humour. Her parents had often said she took after her grandpa, and the thought of never seeing him again was more than she could bear. Of not being able to speak with him on the phone again, or pop in on the off chance and see his face light up at her surprise visit, or share a joke or discuss politics, which he loved. It surely couldn’t all end here. And although her rational mind told her he was very old and everyone had to die some time, her heart wasn’t ready to let go. ‘Damn and blast!’ she said angrily. ‘It’s not fair.’

Taking a tissue from the floral box on the dressing table, she blew her nose, then looked at her face in the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot, her skin was red and her brow was knitted with pain. But as she looked in the mirror it wasn’t her reflection she saw but that of a young girl with fair hair, her expression frightened
and her cheeks wet from crying. Mandy stared at the image, horrified yet mesmerized, willing the girl to go away but at the same time needing her to stay. She held her gaze, looked deep into her eyes and saw her pain and sorrow. It was the same girl she’d seen in her father’s car and in the dreams she’d had in the study. Not taking her eyes from the mirror she reached out and touched the glass. The girl vanished.

Burying her head in her hands she cried openly – for Grandpa, and for whatever had happened in the house.