The Girl in the Mirror (14 page)

‘There!’ Gran said as Grandpa brought up the clear, still frothing liquid. ‘I knew he should have had milk. It was too strong for his stomach.’

‘I can usually hold my drink better than that,’ Grandpa quipped. He lay his head back on the pillow and began to doze.

Yet despite not being able to keep down the champagne his progress, if that was what it was, continued throughout the morning and into the afternoon. Grandpa woke every hour or so for about five minutes, spoke to whoever was in the room, and wasn’t in any pain. The nurse looked in every four hours, took his pulse and temperature and listened to his heart, but went away
again without giving him an injection. Each time Grandpa woke he asked: ‘What time is it?’ a little anxiously as though he had a flight to catch or an important meeting to attend. Having been told the time, he asked the day, and then wanted confirmation: ‘Is it twelve twenty-five on Monday then?’ It was as though he wanted to keep a grip on his place in the world.

By three o’clock Mandy was wondering if she should telephone her parents and tell them of Grandpa’s progress. She would have phoned them if his condition had deteriorated so shouldn’t she give them the chance to see him while he was awake and doing well? She wasn’t sure, and asked Gran what she thought.

‘Ray will be at work,’ Gran said.

‘He has his mobile with him. I can phone him at work in an emergency.’

‘It’s a two-hour journey,’ Gran said. ‘Will could be asleep again by then. Why not see how he does tonight and phone your dad tomorrow?’ Which seemed reasonable and Mandy agreed to.

At 5 p.m. Grandpa asked for something to eat, and their hopes soared further. ‘But he hasn’t eaten for over a week,’ Evelyn said, trying to curb her enthusiasm. ‘What would you like, Dad?’

‘Something light,’ Gran said.

‘Bread and jam?’ Evelyn suggested.

‘Scrambled eggs?’ John asked. ‘It’s what I have when I’ve got a funny tummy.’

‘Scrambled eggs,’ Grandpa agreed.

Ten minutes later they grouped around the bed again as Evelyn tucked a napkin under Grandpa’s chin and spoon-fed him scrambled eggs from a china bowl. Five minutes later John was holding the bucket as Grandpa vomited it up. ‘Will!’ Gran said in dismay. ‘What are we going to do with you?’

Grandpa shook his head. He seemed not to care. It was as
though his body didn’t know what it was supposed to be doing: taking in food for energy and life, or shutting down ready for death. An hour later he asked for some bread and butter, but no sooner had he finished that than it reappeared, to Gran’s dismay.

‘We can’t not give him food, if he asks,’ Evelyn said anxiously. ‘That would be cruel.’

When the nurse came at 6 p.m. Grandpa was in a light sleep and John told him about the food and vomiting. ‘Because Mr Edwards isn’t sedated his body is craving food,’ the nurse explained. ‘Shall I give him something to help him sleep?’

‘But he isn’t in pain,’ Evelyn said. ‘Does he need it?’

‘Morphine acts as a sedative as well as relieving pain. It’s up to you.’

Grandpa stirred and opened his eyes. ‘Hello, Mr Edwards,’ the nurse said gently. ‘I hear you’ve been awake today. How are you feeling?’ He took Grandpa’s hand tenderly between his.

‘Very tired,’ he said, trying to focus.

‘Would you like a shot to help you sleep?’ the nurse asked, patting his hand.

To their surprise Grandpa answered, ‘Yes.’

The nurse looked to them for confirmation. Evelyn reluctantly nodded and John said, ‘If that is what he wants.’

Gran smiled sadly. ‘Goodnight, Will. Hopefully we’ll see you again tomorrow.’ She leant forward and kissed him on the lips.

‘Goodnight, my Lizzie. I love you.’ He held her gaze, looked deeply into her eyes, and the years fell away. Mandy could see he was a young man again courting his Lizzie, his one and only love. Then he extended his arm ready for the injection that would send him to sleep. ‘Night, my love,’ he murmured as his eyes closed and his hand fell limp in hers.

W
hen Mandy awoke just after 6 a.m. she felt pretty good, and rested. Grandpa had only woken twice in the night and had resettled easily, which had allowed her two three-hour sleeps in the armchair – more than she had at home if she’d been out late. She’d grown used to sleeping in the armchair, and because of her routine of showering and changing first thing had come to feel she was ‘getting up’ in the morning, only it was from a chair not a bed. However, she was aware that John, bigger built and older, was finding it more difficult sleeping in a chair. He rarely managed more than fifteen minutes at a time and always went upstairs for a lie-down in the morning once Evelyn was up.

John was asleep now but restless – more so than Grandpa, who lay on his back very still, breathing gently. Mandy wondered what Grandpa thought about when he was awake and if he’d contemplated or even prepared himself for death. She wondered if that was why he’d accepted the morphine the night before – that having mentally readied himself, and begun the journey, he simply wanted to get on with it. In which case, she supposed, there was something to be said for growing old and dying slowly – it gave you time to adjust; unlike suddenly being snatched from the world in a car accident or being struck down by cancer while young.

Standing, Mandy crept from the study and went upstairs to shower and change into fresh clothes. Having not left the house
the day before because Grandpa had been so awake, and following Sunday, when she’d only walked in the garden with Simon, she felt she needed some fresh air and exercise, and also to get away from the house for a while. It was Tuesday and Mrs Pryce would be in the shop so she decided to walk into the village. She ate breakfast as usual with Gran, and once Gran was settled in the study with Evelyn and John had gone for a lie-down Mandy said: ‘I was thinking of walking into the village. Do you want anything from the shop?’

She appreciated there was an element of playing devil’s advocate in mentioning the store to Evelyn. ‘No, thank you,’ Evelyn said tartly.

‘Can you see if they still do those sherbet lemons?’ Gran said. ‘I really fancy some of those.’

‘Of course.’

‘If you fetch my purse I’ll give you the money.’

‘No you won’t,’ Mandy refused. ‘My treat. Anything else you fancy?’

‘No. Thanks, love.’

Five minutes later Mandy slipped on her jacket, left the house and began a leisurely stroll along the lane and towards the village. It was very different from the way she’d left the house last time on Friday, when she’d fled after Simon’s comments and had run most of the way into the village and the bus stop. Now she strolled and had time to take in and savour the country views. At nearly 10.40

a.m. the morning was already warm, ‘unseasonably warm for the beginning of April’, the weather report on her iPod radio had said. Mandy realized with a jolt that March had gone and a week had passed since her arrival at Evelyn’s, although in some ways it seemed much longer. As she walked she took her mobile from
her bag and texted Adam, asking him to check her flat and bring any mail with him when he came the following weekend. Assuming I’m still here, she thought, and Grandpa is still with us. And the fact that she could now acknowledge Grandpa might not be with them at the weekend showed she was adjusting to and gradually accepting the inevitable. She was better prepared now than she had been a week ago, she thought, and better prepared than she’d been when Lucy – a good friend at university – had suddenly developed a brain tumour in their second year and died three months later. It had been terrifying, the swiftness, and in someone her own age. She still thought of Lucy, who had been a kind and loyal friend. Her death should never have happened, Mandy thought, it was so unfair. And the shock of losing her so suddenly had stayed with Mandy, and would do for a very long time, possibly for ever.

She crossed the main road and continued past the church to the village shop. The bell clanged as she opened the green door, and then again as she closed it. She spotted Mrs Pryce straight away, over to her right, serving at the till. Mrs Pryce looked up to see who had come in and smiled when she saw it was Mandy, her previous coolness apparently forgotten. Mandy returned her smile and made her way round the lines of free-standing display units to the shelf containing sweets. She found a bag of sherbet lemons and chose a chocolate bar for herself. The post office counter in the recess was empty, as indeed was most of the shop. Apart from the woman paying at the till there was only one other customer, flicking through a swatch of curtain fabrics that could be ordered through the shop. Mandy waited until Mrs Pryce had finished serving before going over.

‘How are you?’ Mrs Pryce asked warmly. ‘How’s Mr Edwards? I’ve been thinking of you all.’

‘Grandpa’s not too bad,’ Mandy said. ‘Yesterday was very good. He was awake for most of the day, but the nights tend to be worse.’

Mrs Pryce nodded sympathetically. ‘And your gran? How’s she faring? Poor dear. They’ve spent a lifetime together; however will she manage without him?’ She seemed more at ease and willing to talk than last time, and was making no attempt to ring up the items yet.

‘Gran’s doing all right, considering,’ Mandy said. ‘She doesn’t say much. She just sits by his bed all day holding his hand. She’s asked for these sherbet lemons.’

‘Bless her. She always used to buy a packet of these when she could come into the shop. How’s her arthritis?’

‘Not too bad,’ Mandy said. ‘She uses a walking frame now.’

‘She did the last time I saw her – must be over a year ago.’ Finally drawing the items across the counter, she began entering them into the till; £1.65 showed. Mandy passed her two one-pound coins and waited for her change. The only other customer was still at the far end of the shop, now searching through the magazines.

‘Thank you,’ Mandy said as Mrs Pryce handed her the change. She dropped the coins in her purse and zipped it up, silently steeling herself for what she had to say. ‘I hope you don’t mind,’ she began tentatively, ‘but I was wondering if I could ask you something?’ She felt her pulse begin to race.

‘Yes?’ Mrs Pryce asked amicably. ‘I’ll help you if I can,’ supposing, Mandy thought, that she was going to enquire about an item in the store.

‘I was wondering…’ Mandy said, ‘why you left my aunt’s house to work in the shop? As I remember you used to say how happy you were – that you wouldn’t want to work anywhere else. I’m puzzled as to what made you leave.’

Mrs Pryce’s initial expression of affable curiosity vanished and her face grew serious. ‘I was asked to leave,’ she said stiffly. ‘By your uncle.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize,’ Mandy said, although it had crossed her mind this might have happened.

‘No, well, you were out of the area by then, but most people round here knew. It made things very difficult for me.’

‘Yes, I can see that. I’m sorry,’ Mandy said again. ‘I’d no idea.’ She looked at Mrs Pryce, aware she didn’t have the right to ask the obvious next question, but knew she had to ask it anyway. The other customer was still occupied at the far end of the shop. They couldn’t be overheard.

‘I hope I’m not being insensitive,’ Mandy began, ‘but can I ask why my uncle asked you to leave?’

‘You don’t know?’ Mrs Pryce asked aghast, meeting her gaze.

‘No.’

‘And you can’t guess? You must, surely?’

‘No.’ Mandy shook her head and felt her pulse beat even faster. Mrs Pryce’s expression said she was finding it almost impossible to believe what she’d just heard. Just as Evelyn and Gran had when Mandy had said she couldn’t remember. ‘I know there was a family argument all those years ago.’ She had to say something. ‘But I’ve no idea what. My memory of that time is very fuzzy. I think something bad might have happened, but I really don’t know what. Try as I might I can’t remember, although I’m sure you were there.’ She stopped. Mrs Pryce was staring at her, incredulous.

‘I don’t know what to say,’ she said at last. ‘What have your parents told you?’

‘Nothing. It’s never been mentioned. My parents stopped seeing my aunt and uncle ten years ago, and probably wouldn’t
have seen them again had it not been for Grandpa going there from hospital. I didn’t even know anything had happened until I arrived at my aunt’s and realized I could remember some things, but not others. Then I started having strange thoughts, dreams, images – like images from the past.’

Mrs Pryce was still watching her curiously. ‘And your aunt and uncle haven’t said anything to you?’

‘No.’

Glancing away, she pursed her lips. ‘So they did hush it up,’ she said quietly. ‘I thought they might when they fired me and warned me never to speak of it. But your gran?’ she asked, surprised. ‘You were always close to your gran. She must have explained?’

Mandy shook her head. ‘We are still close, but Gran said as it was my father’s decision not to speak of it I must ask him, which I will when the time is right. But not now.’

A flash of pity ran across Mrs Pryce’s face and then she looked away, collecting her thoughts. When her gaze returned Mandy had a good idea what she was going to say: ‘Look, love, I’m sorry you’re having to deal with all this as well as your dear grandpa being ill, but it isn’t my place to tell you what happened in your family. I expect your father did what he thought was best. Your gran is right – you need to ask him, then your mother can support you.’

‘Support me?’

But Mrs Pryce was shaking her head. ‘No, I’m sorry, love, you must ask your parents. It was a difficult time for me as well. I don’t want to go back over it all now.’ She began busying herself with something on the counter and Mandy knew the conversation was at an end and the subject closed, for good.

‘I’m sorry,’ Mandy said again, moving away. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. Thank you for talking to me. Goodbye.’

‘Goodbye, and take care,’ she said without looking up. Mandy left the shop.

The word ‘support’ latched itself on to Mandy’s mind and wouldn’t let go. Support meaning she needed help – as in therapy? Did Mrs Pryce think she wasn’t coping and needed therapy – or would do in the future? Those with problems had support; victims of abuse or disasters had support. Was she a victim in need of counselling and support? If so, why? Until she’d come to her aunt’s house she’d always considered herself well balanced and, until now, no one had suggested any differently. Her mobile went off, and pulling it from her bag she saw it was Adam’s number.

‘Yes?’ she said tersely, shaken from her thoughts. ‘Aren’t you at work?’

‘I’m on my way to a meeting. I thought I’d grab the chance and give you a ring. Is it a bad time?’

‘No, I’m not in the house. I’ve gone for a walk.’ She hesitated, then came to a halt in the centre of the path. She concentrated on the overhanging branch of a tree that was straight ahead. ‘Adam, can you think of any reason why I might need support? You know – emotional support, to overcome something?’

‘No, why?’

‘Someone here thinks I might.’

She heard him give a small laugh. ‘They obviously don’t know you now.’

‘Now? What do you mean
now
? Did I need support in the past?’

‘No, I didn’t mean…It was nothing, really.’

‘I would still like to know. Have I ever needed support?’ She heard his pause. He was probably wishing he hadn’t phoned. ‘Adam?’ she persisted.

‘All right. When we were first at Uni the word was you didn’t date, which was why it took me so long to ask you out. There was a feeling among those who knew you that perhaps you’d had a bad experience with a bloke and didn’t want guys near you.’

‘What! Just because I wasn’t leaping in and out of bed with everyone!’

‘I guess. As I said, it was nothing, and once I got to know you I realized you were fine, until…’

‘Until what?’

‘Well, recently, you’ve obviously been under a lot of pressure.’ He paused again. ‘Look, Mandy, I wouldn’t let the comment bother you. You’re fine. I’ve got to go into the meeting soon. How’s Grandpa?’

She was silent for a moment, then dragged her thoughts back. ‘He was asleep when I left him this morning.’

‘And he’s comfortable?’

‘Yes. I know this sounds insensitive, but in some ways I’ll be pleased when this is all over. Grandpa is very old and ill, and I think I’ve accepted he’s not going to get better. Do you realize I’ve been here a week?’

‘Yes, and I miss you.’

She felt a frisson of warmth. ‘I miss you too.’

‘Good, because I’ve been thinking. When you get back we should talk about putting our relationship on a firmer footing. Move in together. I think a lot of our problems are because we simply don’t get to spend enough time with each other. I know you haven’t been keen in the past – wanting to do your painting, but you will be able to continue that. And with my money going into the house it would be easier for you.’

After the way she’d treated him and he still wanted to be with her! She didn’t deserve him, she really didn’t. But she wasn’t sure.
They’d had their problems – what would it be like if they were together all the time and neither of them had a bolt hole? ‘Yes, we should talk about it,’ she said at length.

‘Good. And if you feel getting married would help, we could talk about that too.’

She gave a small laugh. ’OK, we’ve plenty to talk about!’

She said goodbye and, dropping her phone into her bag, continued down the lane towards her aunt’s house. Dear Adam, he was trying so hard to make her happy by doing and saying the right thing. And in some ways it did make sense to move in together, although marriage was a different matter. Had he envisaged moving in with her or was he proposing they rent somewhere new together? He hadn’t said. Her thoughts briefly returned to his comment about her not dating at Uni, and she dismissed it. During those first terms at Uni, when many students suddenly discovered the freedom of living away from home, if you weren’t having continuous sex you were considered frigid. But as Adam said, once he’d got to know her he knew she didn’t have a problem. No, she didn’t need support.

Following the footpath Mandy turned the corner and the drive came into view. Immediately she saw the nurse’s car; either he was an hour early, which hadn’t happened before, or he had been called. She began to run down the drive. Dear God, she had wished it was all over! But she hadn’t meant now!