The Girl in the Mirror (9 page)

A
fter that night Mandy felt there was an unspoken pact between John and her that whatever happened with Grandpa in the study stayed there and would never be spoken of – now or in the future. When Evelyn came into the study at 6.30 a.m. the following morning, washed and dressed, and asked what sort of night Grandpa had had, John said, ‘Restless,’ and Mandy agreed. When Gran arrived downstairs at 8.45, helped by Evelyn, John had gone for a lie-down, so Mandy repeated the half-truth. ‘Not too good,’ she said, ‘although he did wake briefly. I was able to tell him Mum and Dad had visited.’ Which pleased Gran and made her a little bit happier.

After breakfast with its silver tureens arranged along the sideboard in the morning room, Mandy showered and changed. She was on her way to the study when Evelyn intercepted her. ‘Mandy, I was wondering if you could do me a favour?’

‘Yes?’

‘Gran could do with some more clothes from home. Could you run her over to the bungalow to get what she needs? You could take my car.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Mandy said, feeling that far from it being a favour for Evelyn she would be grateful for a change of scenery and also to spend some time alone with Gran.

She went with Evelyn into the study where Evelyn told Gran of the proposed outing. Gran glanced anxiously at Grandpa.
‘Don’t worry,’ Evelyn reassured her. ‘He’ll be fine. You won’t be long.’

While Evelyn fetched Gran’s shoes and coat Mandy checked her phone. She answered the two texts – one from a friend and one from Adam – and then pressed to return her father’s missed call.

‘Just wondered if there was any change?’ he said. He was at his office desk.

‘No, not really. He had a restless night, but he is comfortable now.’ There was no point in worrying her father further by telling the truth. ‘Gran’s here. I’m taking her to get some things from home. Would you like to speak to her?’

‘Yes, please. We’ll be over again on Sunday.’

Mandy passed her mobile to Gran. ‘Hello, Ray,’ she said, and then, unused to mobiles, took the phone from her ear to speak into the microphone. ‘Pardon?’ she said, having missed Ray’s reply.

Mandy smiled and repositioned the phone to Gran’s ear and they spoke for a few minutes.

‘Incredible,’ she said when she’d finished and returned the phone to Mandy. ‘What will they think of next!’

‘We could buy you a mobile,’ Mandy said. ‘I’d teach you how to use it. It isn’t difficult.’

‘We’ll see. Will’s got one, he knows what to do.’ She smiled wistfully.

Fifteen minutes later Gran was sitting beside her in Evelyn’s Fiat, an automatic that was very easy to drive. They were five minutes into the twenty-minute journey and Mandy thought Gran was appreciating the outing as much as she was. She was very alert, looking out of her side window and making comments on the passing scenery. Mandy recognized that while Gran would never
have complained about all the time she spent with Grandpa, first going to the hospital and then in the study-cum-sick room, clearly her life had narrowed too.

A couple of minutes later Mandy decided it was a good opportunity to ask about Mrs Pryce. ‘I recognized Mrs Pryce straight away yesterday. But she didn’t recognize me.’

‘Well, it’s been a long time since she last saw you,’ Gran said, still looking out of her window. ‘You’ve changed a lot.’

‘Ten years,’ Mandy agreed. ‘Do you still see her?’

‘Occasionally. I used to see her at the Women’s Institute, but I haven’t been this year.’

Mandy smiled to herself: she could picture Mrs Pryce and Gran swapping recipes and flower arranging or whatever they did at their WI meetings. ‘The village shop hasn’t changed either,’ Mandy said, glancing at her. ‘Why doesn’t Evelyn use it now?’

‘Not sure,’ Gran said with a small shrug. ‘She used to walk the dog into the village and pop in the store. Perhaps Evelyn’s feeling her age, like me. She doesn’t walk into the village. They order a lot of their stuff on the computer now.’

Mandy didn’t think Evelyn would be pleased if she knew someone thought she might be ‘feeling her age’, for she’d said more than once that the fifties were the new thirties and age was only ‘a state of mind’. Neither did Mandy think the walk was the reason Evelyn no longer patronized the store, not from the abruptness of Evelyn’s ‘I don’t use that store’ and the way Mrs Pryce had gone quiet on being reminded of the time she’d left Evelyn’s service. ‘Why did Mrs Pryce leave?’ Mandy asked after a moment. ‘Do you know?’

There was a short pause, perhaps a small hesitation, before Gran replied. ‘Not sure, love, although I could guess.’ Mandy waited for her to continue, but she didn’t.

‘Why do you think she left?’ Mandy persisted, concentrating on the road ahead.

‘Because it would have been very difficult for her to have stayed,’ Gran said matter-of-factly. ‘What reason have John and Evelyn given for Mrs Pryce leaving?’

This was like playing conundrums, Mandy thought, all of them referring to each other for explanation. ‘John said she just wanted a change.’

‘Well then,’ Gran said.

Well then, nothing, Mandy thought. Either she was becoming paranoid and seeing conspiracy everywhere or Gran was being deliberately obtuse and not telling her something. If she dropped the subject now it would be more difficult to pick up again later and she might not get another opportunity. Gran usually appreciated directness so Mandy decided to take the bull by the horns. ‘Mrs Pryce left at the same time I stopped coming to visit Sarah,’ she said. ‘Was that coincidence or were the two connected?’

‘Probably connected,’ Gran said, now looking straight ahead.

‘How?’

There was another short pause before Gran replied, a little tersely: ‘You will need to ask your father that.’

‘Dad?’ Mandy glanced at her, puzzled. ‘I don’t understand. Why should he know about Mrs Pryce leaving?’

Gran met her gaze, her expression serious yet doubting. Mandy returned her attention to the road and heard Gran say quite sternly: ‘Do you really not remember, Mandy? Or is it that you don’t want to?’

Mandy felt her heart start to race as a now familiar sense of unease began to descend. ‘Remember what?’ she said. ‘Mrs Pryce leaving?’

‘No. The day
you
left Evelyn’s for the last time. The reason your visits stopped and the two families never spoke again.’

Mandy’s fingers tightened around the wheel as she searched the crevices of her mind for some long-forgotten clue, some hint of what she was being challenged to remember. ‘No. Until I came here three days ago, I wasn’t even aware there was anything to remember.’

Gran said nothing. There was silence. When Mandy spoke again her voice sounded strained and uneven. ‘Gran, Mum and Dad have never spoken of the day I left. But since I’ve come back I’ve been having strange thoughts and dreams, and seeing things. I don’t know how they link, but I’m usually thirteen years old. What happened, Gran? Did I do something dreadful? Is that why I wasn’t allowed to visit Sarah any more? For it seemed quite possible she had done something terrible that had stopped her visits and no one dared speak of.

She glanced at Gran and, just for a second, Mandy thought she was going to tell her something, but then her face stilled again. ‘It wasn’t exactly your fault,’ she said slowly, ‘although you were involved. I can’t tell you, Mandy. I’m not allowed to. You’ll need to speak to your father. He was the one who stopped your visits and forbade us to talk about it. He thought it was for your own good, but I was never sure.’ She turned her head and looked out of the side window again, signalling the matter was closed.

Mandy stared at the road ahead while her thoughts somersaulted. So there
was
something, something very bad by the sound of it, and she
had
been involved. She searched her mind again for anything that would allow her into the past, but there was nothing beyond the unsettling flashbacks – if that’s what they were – which had plagued her since entering the house. She
glanced at Gran, who was still resolutely looking out of the window, and knew it would be unfair to press her further.

Five minutes later she pulled on to the drive of Gran’s bungalow and cut the engine.

I
nside, the bungalow was exactly as Mandy had last seen it when she’d visited before Grandpa had been taken into hospital, but without her grandparents it had lost its welcoming warmth. Uninhabited for nearly three weeks, it already had that shut-up smell.

‘I’ll get what I need from the bedroom,’ Gran said. ‘I won’t be long.’

‘Do you want some help?’ Mandy asked as Gran made her way down the hall towards the main bedroom at the rear.

‘No, sit yourself down in the lounge. I can manage.’ Mandy thought she probably preferred to do it alone, appreciating the small independence after being waited on at Evelyn’s.

Going into the lounge, Mandy sat in the armchair she usually sat in when she visited and gazed around the room. The dated furniture, heavy velvet curtains and knick-knacks arranged along the mantelpiece, which had helped create that feeling of cosiness and security, now seemed faded and worn. A folded newspaper lay on Grandpa’s chair as though he had just put it down for a minute and would shortly return and continue reading. Then as she directed her gaze over to the coffee table she saw his flat cap: the tweed cap he always wore and had done for as long as she could remember – in winter to keep him warm and in summer to protect the top of his head from the sun. He never went anywhere without his cap and not having it with him now seemed to
underline just how ill he was. On impulse she reached over and picked it up; she would take it with her. Even though he didn’t need it and it was unlikely he would ever wear it again he should still have it with him.

A few minutes passed and then Gran called from the bedroom: ‘Mandy, can you give me a hand, love?’

She stood and went into the bedroom. Gran was by the bed with one hand on her walking frame, struggling to get some clothes into a zip holdall with the other.

‘Here, let me,’ Mandy said, going over.

Laying the cap on the bed she began packing the clothes Gran had laid out: two dresses, some of her underwear and a fresh nightdress; Grandpa’s pyjamas, his socks, underwear, a pair of trousers and a shirt, although it was doubtful he’d ever need them. Lastly, Mandy laid the cap carefully on top of the other clothes in the case. ‘Is that everything?’ she asked.

Gran nodded. ‘Let’s go,’ she said quietly.

Mandy saw her face and knew how difficult it was for her being here without Grandpa. Closing the case, Mandy took it off the bed and with the case in one hand she linked Gran’s arm with the other and they crossed to the door. In the hall Gran gave a quick glance around and then led the way out, in no hurry to stay. She locked the front door and then asked Mandy to check it. ‘Will usually does it,’ she said.

‘It’s fine,’ Mandy said, pushing her shoulder against it.

She helped Gran into the car, and then stowed the walking frame and case in the boot. Climbing in, she paused before starting the engine. She looked at Gran, who was staring through the windscreen deep in thought. ‘All right?’ she asked gently, touching her arm.

Gran nodded.

‘We can come again another day if you need anything else.’

‘Thanks, love. But I can’t imagine Will’s going to be needing much more.’ She smiled sadly.

‘Is there anywhere else you need to go?’

‘No thanks, love. Best be getting back.’ She threw Mandy the same sad smile, and then folded her hands in her lap, resigned and accepting.

Mandy started the engine and reversed off the drive. They were quiet, then Gran began to nod off. Mandy thought of the conversation they’d had on the way to the bungalow and immediately felt her pulse quicken. What was it Gran seemed to think she should be able to remember? What was it about Evelyn’s house and the people in it that had stopped her visits? Clearly Gran thought she should know and had even suggested she was deliberately not remembering:
Do you really not remember, Mandy? Or is it that you don’t want to?
In the past she’d counted on Gran for her honest opinion. Why wasn’t she being honest now?

Mandy came to with a jolt, braking as the red lights of the car in front suddenly loomed. Gran woke too. ‘Sorry,’ Mandy said, ‘he stopped a bit quickly.’

She kept her concentration fully on the road for the rest of the journey. When they arrived Evelyn greeted them in the hall and said lunch was ready.

‘Lunch!’ Gran exclaimed. ‘We’ve only just had breakfast.’ But she dutifully followed Evelyn into the morning room where the table was laid with quiche and salad.

Mandy ate very little, partly because she too felt she’d only just had breakfast, but mainly because she was still unsettled by the conversation she’d had with Gran. A conspiracy seemed to be building around her, a conspiracy of silence which stretched back
ten years. As soon as was reasonable she asked to be excused and said if she wasn’t needed she would go to her room for half an hour. ‘Good idea,’ Evelyn said. ‘Get some rest while you can.’

But it wasn’t rest she needed; she needed to be alone to try to make sense of the tangle of thoughts that was writhing in her head. Going into the bedroom she kicked off her shoes and flopped on the bed. It was only 1.30 p.m. but she felt utterly exhausted – and not only from lack of sleep. She was emotionally drained.

Resting her head on the headboard Mandy lay back and stared at the ceiling, willing herself to think back and remember. She tried to visualize herself in the house and garden as she might have been on one of her many visits. In the sitting room, morning room, the conservatory-cum-playroom – what was she doing? She knew from John’s photographs that she’d played in the garden under the sprinkler, but could she remember actually being there and doing it? She wasn’t sure. But she was sure she’d been in the cloakroom in tears, and also that she’d been driven away from the house in the back of her father’s car, distraught. If and how the two incidents were connected, she didn’t know. And these were isolated and limited recollections – snapshots from the album of her past which should have been overflowing with memories from all the times she’d stayed with Sarah. The rest was blank.

‘Why did Father stop all contact and then forbid everyone to talk about it?’ she said out loud as though that might prompt an answer. It must have been something dreadful. Gran’s comment –
It wasn’t exactly your fault, although you were involved
– suggested she was an accomplice, and therefore partly to blame. Was Sarah the other perpetrator in the unspeakable, unknown crime? It was possible. If so, what could they have done that had
led to her being banished from the house? Stolen from the village store? Set fire to something? Drunk wine from the cellar? Or had their pre-pubescent crushes on their respective uncles been discovered? Mandy shuddered at the possibility, yet surely none of these was severe enough for her father to stop all contact between the two families for ever?

‘Shit!’ she said, clenching her fists. ‘Someone needs to tell me what I’ve done!’ It crossed her mind to go downstairs now and demand an explanation. But how could she make a scene and risk upsetting everyone with Grandpa so ill? She remained propped on the bed, frustrated and angry at her inability to remember. Then, just for a second, through the fog of time, she thought she heard her father shouting at Evelyn, as she and Sarah cried openly. Then it vanished.

A tear escaped and ran down her cheek, and another and another. She wept for Grandpa, his pain and suffering, and the loss of their once open and honest relationship. It was inconceivable everyone knew apart from her, especially her beloved grandparents, with whom she thought she’d shared almost everything. Now they too were part of the conspiracy of silence, which her dear grandpa would take to his grave.