The Girl in the Mirror (8 page)

F
ifteen minutes later Mandy pulled herself together. Drying her eyes, she checked her face in the mirror and returned to the study, hoping no one would notice she’d been crying. There was only Gran in the study and she was dozing in the chair beside the bed and Grandpa, while restless, was asleep. Mandy took the sketch pad and pencil from the carrier bag, sat in the armchair, and with determined effort began drawing the outline of the church, more for distraction than from any real desire to draw. Concentrating on the delicate lines of the steeple began to direct and channel her thoughts. The girl in the mirror and all her unhappiness faded.

Gran woke and Mandy told her she’d seen Mrs Pryce who sent her best wishes. ‘Thank you,’ Gran said, nodding thoughtfully. Mandy was about to ask her why Mrs Pryce had left and if it had anything to do with her own visits stopping but Evelyn popped in to check on Grandpa. In fact Evelyn was in and out of the study all morning so there was no chance to talk to Gran. Evelyn seemed nervous and Mandy guessed it was because her parents were expected later that afternoon, when she would be meeting her sister-in-law for the first time in ten years.

They had lunch in the morning room while the nurse visited and then returned to the study. Gran dozed, Mandy continued with the sketch, and then a little after 3 p.m. Mandy heard the door chime. She wasn’t expecting her parents until later and
remained in the study, but suddenly Evelyn was showing them in. ‘Mum, Dad!’ she cried, standing to kiss them.

‘How are you, love?’ her mother asked, concerned.

‘Not bad. I’m glad you came.’

‘How are you, Mum?’ her mother asked, turning to Gran.

‘Mustn’t grumble. I’m pleased you felt you could come here, Jean. It means a lot to Will and me.’

Her mother smiled, then looked properly at Grandpa for the first time. Mandy saw the shock on her mother’s face and she joined her at the bed. Evelyn hovered for a moment and then left, closing the study door behind her.

‘The housekeeper is taking your case up to your room,’ her father said, still not looking at Grandpa. ‘I remembered your phone charger, and your mother packed some clothes.’

‘Thanks. Was everything all right at the flat? I feel like I’ve been away for weeks, not two days.’

‘It looked fine. There were a couple of letters for you and those are in your case too. Let me return your keys before I forget.’ Delving into his trouser pocket he handed the keys to her. ‘How’s Grandpa been?’ he said, finally looking at the bed.

‘Up and down. Last night was bad, but he was awake earlier and recognized me. I told him you were coming this afternoon.’

He nodded, obviously pleased, and they both looked at the bed. In sleep Grandpa’s head lolled to one side and his mouth hung open, causing his hollow cheeks to look even more pronounced.

‘He’s lost so much weight,’ her mother said quietly, clearly still shocked by his deterioration. ‘Three weeks ago he was digging the garden, getting it ready for spring. Now…’ She stopped as her voice faded. Gran touched her arm reassuringly. ‘Can we wake him?’ her mother asked after a moment. ‘I’d like to talk to him.’

‘It’s not that kind of sleep,’ Gran said. ‘It’s more unconsciousness – due to the morphine and also because he’s just drifting off.’ Mandy heard the phrase ‘drifting off’ and knew what Gran was really trying to say, and the word they were all carefully avoiding. ‘He had his last injection at midday,’ Gran continued, patting Grandpa’s arm. ‘They’re every four hours. He was in so much pain, John spoke to the nurse and had the dose increased. John has been very good; I don’t know what we’d have done without him.’ Mandy saw her mother tense at the praise for John. ‘Have you seen John?’ Gran asked.

‘Evelyn said he was at work,’ her father replied, while her mother said nothing.

‘Hopefully he’ll be back before you leave,’ Gran said. ‘It would be nice for you all to be friends again. It would make Grandpa happy.’

‘I thought I did all right yesterday, considering,’ her father said, childlike in his defence.

Gran gave a small reserved nod.

‘Considering what?’ Mandy asked, and heard the silence.

‘Oh, nothing,’ her father said after a moment, and changed the subject.

They stayed in the study for the next three hours but Grandpa didn’t wake. He slept fitfully, occasionally calling out in his sleep but didn’t regain consciousness. Mandy was relieved at one level, for had he woken in pain it would have been dreadful for her parents to have witnessed, but if he’d woken pain-free, as he had done that morning, it would have been wonderful – a memory they could have taken with them. As it was they sat by his bed, just spending time with him and chatting to Gran. ‘I think he’s had too much morphine,’ her father said.

‘Better a little too much than not enough,’ Gran said.

John didn’t return during the afternoon so there was no opportunity for Gran’s hope of John and Jean meeting and all ‘being friends again’. Her parents stayed until 6 p.m. and then politely, refusing Evelyn’s offer to stay to dinner, her father said, ‘We need to be getting on the road,’ and her mother agreed.

They said goodbye to Grandpa then they all went to the front door, where they hugged and kissed. ‘Drive safely,’ Gran said.

‘Take care,’ Evelyn added with warmth.

‘I’ll come again at the weekend,’ her father said. ‘Thanks again, Mandy, for all you’re doing.’

‘I’ll phone if there’s any change,’ Mandy reassured him.

After they’d gone, Evelyn disappeared upstairs while Mandy returned to the study with Gran. She helped settle Gran in her usual chair beside the bed and then checked her phone which was charging on the socket by the desk. Five minutes later John appeared, still in his suit, apparently having just returned from the office.

‘Sorry I missed your parents,’ he said to Mandy. ‘How’s Grandpa?’

‘He slept all afternoon,’ Mandy said. ’Mum and Dad said they were sorry to have missed you too.’

Gran threw Mandy a small appreciative smile, then said to John: ‘Ray thinks Dad might be having too much morphine. Apart from quarter of an hour this morning he hasn’t been awake at all today.’

‘I doubt it,’ John said tersely, ‘but I’ll speak to the nurse this evening. Now I need to shower and change before dinner.’ Mandy wondered if he’d taken her father’s comments personally – everyone in the house was so sensitive. It crossed her mind to say something and try to explain but decided it was better just left.

The routine of her first evening in the house was now largely repeated for the second. They ate at 7 p.m. and then Gran and she returned to the study until Evelyn came in with Gran’s Ovaltine at 8.30. At nine o’clock Evelyn helped Gran to bed, then John reappeared in the study. ‘Mandy, do you feel up to doing the night shift again?’ he asked. ‘Evelyn could do with the rest.’

Mandy had assumed she would be doing the ‘night shift’ again, and although tired hoped that as Grandpa was more peaceful she’d be able to sleep in the armchair, or failing that take a nap the following day. ‘Of course,’ she agreed.

Evelyn went to bed once she’d seen Gran up and then shortly before 10 p.m. the nurse arrived on a new schedule to give Grandpa his injection. Mandy thought she would take the opportunity while the nurse was there to go upstairs and sort through the suitcase her parents had brought. Mrs Saunders had taken it to the bedroom she was using. Opening the case she found her mother had done a good job in choosing which clothes to pack: three pairs of jeans, an assortment of tops, underwear, slippers, her kimono dressing gown and clean pyjamas. She opened the two letters her father had mentioned: a bank statement and a circular from her local art centre detailing forthcoming events. Returning the letters to the case she went into the guest bathroom where she washed and brushed her teeth ready for her night in the chair; she’d shower again in the morning. When she came out she found the main lights were off and the landing and stairs were again lit by nightlights, John presumably having locked up after the nurse had left. She made her way down the staircase, past the lamp on the onyx table in the hall and to the study where the lava lamp was once again the only light. John was in his usual armchair and concentrating on his laptop. Grandpa was on his back, asleep, breathing very slowly and heavily.

‘The nurse said the dose is right,’ John confirmed without looking up. ‘I don’t think your father or Gran has accepted the inevitable yet.’

‘No,’ Mandy agreed, and wasn’t sure she had fully accepted the inevitable either.

She sat in the other chair and unplugging her phone from the charger – the battery was full – she checked for messages. There were four texts; two from Adam asking if she was all right, and she suddenly realized with everything going on she’d forgotten to return his call from the morning when the battery had gone flat. It was a bit late to phone him now. He’d be on his way to bed with work the following morning. She quickly texted:
Sorry. im ok. mum n dad visited. ill call tmrrw. luv&miss u xxx.

‘Boyfriend?’ John asked, glancing up with a smile that invited intimacy.

‘Yes,’ she said non-committally.

‘Serious?’

‘Possibly.’ She wasn’t going to be drawn into discussing her relationship with Adam.

‘Sarah’s living with her partner, Simon,’ John offered. ‘He’s got a good job in finance. Hopefully you’ll meet him when they visit.’

‘That would be nice.’ Mandy smiled, and concentrated on her phone.

John returned to his laptop; Mandy answered the texts and then closed her phone and dropped it into her bag. She rested her head on the chair-back and allowed her eyes to close. The warmth of the room soon combined with the soothing red glow of the lava lamp and she began to doze. Grandpa’s slow and heavy breathing continued in the background with the tap tap tap of John’s laptop close by. Some time later she awoke with a start and was already out of her chair and going towards the bed before
she heard John’s voice: ‘Don’t worry, Mandy, I’ve seen to him. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.’ Mandy looked over. John had just opened the study door and was about to go out. In his hand was the plastic bottle, now containing a small amount of dark orange urine. ‘Sorry,’ he said again. ‘He needed a wee. I’m just going to empty this.’

She nodded and John left.

With her heart racing from suddenly waking Mandy remained where she was in the middle of the room and looked at Grandpa. He was on his back, his breathing still light from having recently woken. She felt a pang of regret that John hadn’t needed her help and woken her, for it was a missed opportunity to tell Grandpa her parents had visited. Any opportunity to talk to him was precious and it was impossible to know when the chance would come again – or, indeed, if it would.

Stiff from sleeping in the chair, she flexed her arms and rolled her head from side to side; her neck clicked. She’d no idea of the time or how long she’d been asleep. John’s laptop was open on the coffee table with the screensaver coloured boxes flying across the screen. Instinctively, without thinking, as she would have done at home to check the time if her laptop was on, she reached down and drew the cursor towards the time icon in the lower right-hand corner of the screen. As her fingers touched the mouse the screensaver vanished and in its place was a photograph of a child, aged about three or four and completely naked. The photo automatically enlarged to fill the screen. It was her.

Mandy stared at it and felt a cold tingle run up her spine. Without even their pants on, she and Sarah were playing in the garden of this house on what was clearly a hot summer’s day. The two of them had obviously stripped off to run under the sprinkler – it could be seen watering the lawn in the background. Sarah and
she were apparently unaware the photograph was being taken. Sarah was in the background, on the far side of the sprinkler, while she, the subject, was in the foreground. On the left of the screen were three ‘thumbnail’ pictures of photographs John had already viewed in the same folder. She looked closer. Obviously taken at the same time, she and Sarah were naked in all of them. The top one showed Sarah and her holding hands and running though the spray; the next showed them trying to catch the spray. The third showed them throwing a brightly coloured ball through the jet of water with John laughing in the background. In all of them Sarah and she were playing unselfconsciously and oblivious to their nakedness as young children are. The counter on the toolbar showed the open photo was the fourth out of a set of sixty.

A sharp intake of breath came from the bed behind her and Grandpa stirred in his sleep. Mandy took a step back, away from the laptop, and stared at her image. Family photographs? She supposed they must be, but couldn’t remember them being taken or ever having been shown them. Who else had been present? John was in the background. Who had taken the photograph? Evelyn? Her father? And while there was nothing wrong in John reminiscing over a family album, Mandy felt deeply uncomfortable that he had been doing so – viewing her naked – in a semi-darkened room, while she slept in the chair beside him. It didn’t feel right and something told her it wasn’t right, not at all.

M
andy continued to stare at the screen, willing the coloured flying boxes of the screensaver to reappear. It was embarrassing enough to have stumbled on the photographs, it would be even worse if John returned and found her looking at them. The setting on the timer for the screensaver could be anything from one minute to sixty; she’d set the one on her laptop to five minutes, but obviously had no idea what John had set his to. A couple of minutes had already passed. How much longer before the screensaver timed in and the photo disappeared? And how long before John finished rinsing the bottle in the cloakroom and returned?

Another minute passed. Mandy stared at the screen as her heart thumped loudly and the image persisted. Then she heard a movement in the hall outside and quickly snapped shut the lid on the laptop. She sat back in the armchair; having to admit to shutting his laptop was preferable to him coming in and seeing, and then her having to explain. Grandpa stirred in his sleep and a second later the door opened and John came in. He had the clean urine bottle tucked under his arm and a mug in each hand.

‘Thought you might like a tea,’ he said, pushing the door to with his foot. His eyes immediately went to the laptop.

‘Sorry, I brushed against it, and the lid shut. I hope I haven’t lost your work.’ The lie sounded pathetic even to her.

He placed the two mugs on the coffee table beside the laptop, and then returned the urine bottle to beside the bed. ‘No harm done,’ he said lightly. ‘Closing the lid doesn’t lose the information.’ Which Mandy knew. She also knew that when John lifted the lid again, the last open document, i.e. the photograph, not the screensaver, would reappear. Why she didn’t simply admit to what she’d done she wasn’t sure, for she hadn’t been prying; she had stumbled on the photographs by accident. It was more to do with the embarrassment of him seeing her naked, albeit as a child, together with the persisting feeling that it wasn’t proper for a man to be storing pictures on his laptop of his niece without her clothes on.

‘Thanks,’ she said, picking up her mug of tea. She took a sip and looked across the room at the slow-moving red bubbles of the lava lamp. Out of the corner of her eye she could see John sipping his tea, elbows resting on the arms of the chair, and making no attempt to open his laptop. Grandpa’s deep and laboured breathing once more filled the air, signalling he had again lapsed into heavy unconscious sleep. Mandy continued drinking her tea until the silence became uncomfortable and she had to break it. ‘I walked into the village while you were at work,’ she said with forced casualness.

John nodded and took another gulp of tea. ‘Yes, Evelyn said.’

‘I needed a few things, and some exercise.’ She paused. ‘We used to go to that store a lot when I stayed here. It was strange going back. It’s hardly changed at all.’

‘No. We order our groceries online now and have them delivered. Did you see Mrs Pryce?’

Mandy was surprised by his directness; perhaps it was only Evelyn who’d had the argument with the former housekeeper.

‘Yes. I recognized her straight away but she didn’t recognize me. Not surprising really, after all this time. Why’s she working there? She always seemed so happy here.’

John rubbed his thumb around the rim of the mug, and then flashed her a sideways glance: ‘Didn’t she tell you, Mandy?’

‘No.’

He gave a small, dismissive shrug. ‘I guess she just wanted a change. She’d been with us a very long time.’ And Mandy knew for certain he was lying. Something in his tone and the casualness of his reply, together with Mrs Pryce’s reaction, told her this was not the reason, but she also knew he wouldn’t tell her what the real reason was.

Without saying anything further he finished his tea, set his mug on the coffee table, and then picked up his laptop and left the study. When he returned five minutes later and lifted the lid to resume work, her photograph had gone and a half-composed email filled the screen. That he had left the room to close the file added to her feeling of disquiet – as though he had something to hide. But to bring up the subject now would turn it into an issue, she thought, and it wasn’t the time or place. Later, if her feelings of unease persisted, she would work out what to say and ask him about the photograph.

Her gaze once more drifted to the red bubbles of moving light on the far side of the room as Grandpa’s drawn-out breaths filled the air. It was now nearly 2.30 a.m. and she felt the long hours before dawn stretch ahead. She thought of Adam and bitterly regretted the way they’d parted on their last night together. While he’d forgiven her, now they were apart she felt her rejection of him even more and could have kicked herself for being so cold. How she now longed for the warmth and security of his arms around her; his straightforward and uncomplicated manner. He
was a good, kind person who said what he thought and kept his word. There was no side to him, no hidden agenda. Not many would have put up with her blowing hot and cold – wanting to make love one moment but not the next. Were all women like this? She wondered. She’d no idea; it wasn’t something she’d ever felt comfortable discussing with her friends.

As happened before when there was no conversation in the study Mandy found herself absently counting off the seconds of Grandpa’s laboured breathing. The breaths – too long apart, which began and ended with small rasps – seemed to be taking more and more effort. She doubted she would ever forget the sound of his breathing and the long silences between. She was sure the gaps were growing longer; unnaturally long, she thought, as though each breath could be his last. Was that what happened in the end? Was that how life ended? One long breath and then nothing – the moment of death? Was that it, or did the person say something or cry out? Mandy had never been with anyone who had died, but had heard stories about the dying waking at the end and experiencing a moment of lucidity just before they passed away. Her mother had told her of a very old aunt who, unconscious for a week, had suddenly sat up in bed at the moment of death and, reaching out her hand, had said: ‘I’m ready now. I’m coming with you,’ as though someone had been sent to meet her. Mandy’s mother had found comfort in this – proof there was an afterlife, but Mandy wasn’t sure. For someone with no religious faith, it would be a terrific leap to view death as anything other than the depressing finality she now accepted it to be.

Grandpa’s breathing faltered for a second before he cried out – an agonized howl that struck terror into her soul. She was already out of the chair and by the bed when the second cry came.
John was at the bed-head. Taking hold of Grandpa’s shoulders he began massaging them as he had the night before. ‘We’re here, Dad,’ he reassured him. ‘The pain will pass.’

Mandy took one of Grandpa’s hands in hers and stroked the back. It felt cold and clammy, and too smooth, almost like gloss paper. When the next anguished cry came, his face contorted and his hand clutched hers so tightly his nails dug into her flesh. ‘Grandpa, it’s Mandy,’ she said urgently, but he was oblivious. His back arched and he shrieked again. She looked at John and saw her own fear reflected.

‘It’s all right, Dad. We’re here,’ John tried to soothe him.

Mandy knew the pain was worse than it had been the night before, and she was sure it hadn’t peaked yet. The medication had worn off and Grandpa was being forced into consciousness by the agony. It was horrifying, humiliating, and out of control. His back arched and his eyes screwed shut as his face contorted, but his words were clear and unmistakable: ‘No more. I want to die. Help me to die, please, John!’

‘I’ll call the nurse,’ John said. ‘He’ll give you an injection to stop the pain.’

‘No. I want an end. Once and for all.’ Then his whole body suddenly jolted as though an electric current had passed through, and he began to retch.

Mandy grabbed the plastic bucket from beside the chair as John turned him on to his side. She held the bucket beneath his chin as his body stiffened and he retched, over and over again. First saliva trickled from his open mouth and then a thick brown liquid shot into the bucket. It smelt foul and Mandy felt her own stomach contract.

‘Christ!’ John said. ‘What’s that? He hasn’t eaten for a week.’ Mandy glanced in the bucket and then looked away. It was disgusting.

John kept his hands on Grandpa’s shoulder, steadying him on his side as he retched again. Mouth open, his whole body caught in the act of vomiting, like a dog. The smell coming from the bucket and also from his mouth was putrid, more like excrement than vomit. His retching peaked, and more of the disgusting brown liquid shot into the bucket. Then he let out a loud groan and his body went limp. Mandy swallowed the bile rising in her throat.

John gently laid him flat on his back. ‘Can you get him some water, Mandy,’ he said quietly, clearly shocked.

Placing the bucket to one side, she fetched the beaker of water from the tray on the desk, and also a tissue. She wiped away the brown saliva from Grandpa’s lips. John slid his hands under Grandpa’s shoulders and eased him off the pillows as she tipped the beaker to his lips. Veins stood out on his neck where he had been retching, and thread veins had broken across his nose and cheeks, making his skin look purple. His dry, lined lips closed around the beaker, but his eyes stayed shut. He took a sip and with great effort swallowed. Then his head dropped back, exhausted.

‘Would you like another sip?’ Mandy asked softly.

There was a faint: ‘No.’

She stayed by the bed. Although Grandpa’s eyes were closed and his body was still, from the lightness of his breathing she knew he was still conscious. John was very pale – until now he’d been in control, able to ease Grandpa through the pain, but this last attack had left him powerless to help, and he was visibly shaken. Now the pain had peaked Mandy hoped Grandpa would drift into unconsciousness as he had done the night before. They watched and waited. He stirred and tried to say something, although his eyes remained closed. ‘Sorry, Dad?’ John asked gently, lowering his head closer to Grandpa’s mouth.

‘John?’ he groaned.

‘Yes, I’m here. So is Mandy.’

‘Mum and Dad visited today,’ Mandy said quickly. ‘They send their love.’

Grandpa nodded. ‘John?’ he said again, struggling to tilt his head in the direction of John’s voice.

‘Yes, Dad?’

‘I need you to promise me…’ he began, his voice slow and rasping, each word punctuated by a breath. ‘I want you to promise me…if it gets any worse…you’ll end it…for me. I can’t do it…or I would.’ His eyes briefly opened and he squinted in John’s direction, trying to focus, before they closed again. Mandy saw John’s look of horror. It had been said rationally with a detachment and seriousness that was almost cold.

‘I’ll phone the nurse to make you more comfortable,’ John said, moving away from the bed.

‘No,’ Grandpa cried. John stopped and looked at him, surprised by the strength in his voice. ‘Please, John, I need you to promise,’ he rasped, struggling for breath and trying to open his eyes. ‘This might be my last chance to ask. For the love of God, and the sake of my wife and family, please end it for me.’ He desperately tried to raise his head but failed and collapsed back on to the pillow with a groan.

Mandy saw John flinch. How could he give such an undertaking? Yet after the agony he had just witnessed…‘I understand,’ John breathed after a moment. Then, more strongly: ‘I promise I won’t let you suffer.’

A small smile seemed to flicker across Grandpa’s lips and then his face relaxed and his breathing slowly deepened as he once more lapsed into unconsciousness. Leaving the end of the bed John picked up the bucket. ‘I’ll get rid of this,’ he said, and left the room.

Mandy turned from the bed as a bubble of oil in the lamp elongated and stretched to the limit. As she looked, the top broke away and, forming a bubble of its own, floated free. Behind her Grandpa’s breathing reluctantly continued.