The Girl in the Mirror (19 page)

‘I stopped off at the village shop on the way here – to buy Evelyn those flowers – and much to my surprise I was served by Mrs Pryce. She recognized me immediately.’ He paused and met her gaze again. ‘So I finally got the chance to thank her and apologize for shouting at her the last time we left.’

‘You know I’ve remembered what happened?’ Mandy asked.

‘Yes, Evelyn phoned. We need to talk, Mandy, but later, I think, when you’re ready.’

L
eaving her parents in the car, parked where the double yellow lines ran out, Mandy entered the shop and heard the bell clang as the door closed behind her. Mrs Pryce was serving at the till. She glanced up and, seeing Mandy, smiled an acknowledgement, then continued serving. Mandy waited by the display of greeting cards until Mrs Pryce had finished with the customer, then approached the counter. ‘I was so sorry to hear about Mr Edwards,’ Mrs Pryce said, her sincere sadness mingling with apprehension at seeing Mandy again. ‘How is Mrs Edwards coping?’

‘Gran’s trying to keep positive. She’s insisting on returning home this evening. She’s quite determined to go.’

‘That sounds like Mrs Edwards.’ Mrs Pryce smiled kindly. ‘But I think she’ll find it more difficult than she imagines to begin with. I know I did when I lost my hubby. I suddenly had all this time in the evening and at weekends to fill and with no one to talk to. Shall I look in on her?’

‘I’m sure she’d be very grateful. And we’ll all be keeping an eye on her and visiting regularly.’ Mandy paused. ‘I’m going home too now – Mum and Dad are waiting outside.‘

Mrs Pryce nodded. ‘Well, all the best, dear. It’s been lovely seeing you again. Although I wish it could have been in happier circumstances.’

Mandy lowered her voice, aware there were other shoppers in the store. ‘I wanted to thank you before I left for all you did for
me – especially on that night. I remember how you looked after me and comforted me until my father arrived. I have remembered what happened now.’ Mandy stopped and looked at Mrs Pryce. ‘But you seem to know that already.’

She nodded. ‘Your aunt came in here first thing this morning, ostensibly to tell me that Mr Edwards had passed away, but I guessed that wasn’t the only reason she’d come. I mean you don’t sack someone, cut them off for ten years, and then arrive at eight a.m. to tell them of a family bereavement. She told me you’d found out, and in pretty distressing circumstances. She apologized for the way she and Mr Osborne had treated me. Then an hour ago your father came in. When he realized who I was, he apologized too, and thanked me. I’ve never had so many apologies and thanks in one morning in my life!’

Mandy smiled. ‘It’s not before time. You were always so good to me when I stayed. And I don’t know what I’d have done without you that night when Jimmy…Anyway, I just wanted to thank you. I’m very pleased my aunt has finally seen sense and apologized.’ She made a move to go.

‘One thing, dear?’

Mandy paused. ‘Yes?’

‘Can I ask what happened to Mr Osborne’s brother? Your aunt didn’t say.’

‘Nothing,’ Mandy said tightly. ‘My aunt and uncle stopped seeing Jimmy, but he was never reported to the police.’

Mrs Pryce’s eyes widened in dismay. ‘So it was hushed up. I thought at the time that was the reason they’d sacked me. I was the only witness outside the family. But with no one keeping tabs on him who’s to say he hasn’t done similar to others? If I were your aunt or uncle I wouldn’t be sleeping happily in my bed.’ She stopped. ‘Anyway, it wasn’t my decision and I’ve probably said
too much. It’s been lovely seeing you again, dear, and I’m so pleased you were able to spend time with your dear grandpa before he died. Come here and let me give you a hug.’

Mrs Pryce came out from behind the counter and opened her arms to receive Mandy, just as she used to when Mandy was a child. Mandy fell into her arms and caught the faintest whiff of the lavender soap she’d always used, and remembered the warmth and security of Mrs Pryce’s embrace when she’d comforted her for everything from a grazed knee to the assault that night.

‘Take care, love,’ Mrs Pryce said, finally drawing back as a customer approached. ‘Come in and see me when you next visit your gran. It’s not so far out of your way.’

‘I will,’ Mandy promised. ‘Thanks again for everything. I won’t ever forget your kindness.’

‘You’re very welcome, love.’

No, she wouldn’t ever forget Mrs Pryce’s kindness, Mandy thought as she gazed out of the side window and her father began the drive home. She wouldn’t forget Mrs Pryce’s care that dreadful night, and neither would she forget Jimmy’s attack. For now she had remembered she was finding the memory wouldn’t leave her alone; it was ever-present, like a movie set to rerun continuously. Even when she wasn’t consciously thinking about it, the horror lurked in the corners of her mind, waiting to be acknowledged and confronted. The terror of waking in the dark to find Jimmy on top of her; the pressure on her chest; the scratch of his moustache as his lips sought hers; the smell of his sweat mingling with his aftershave; and the searing pain as he tried to force himself into her as she relived it over and over again. In some ways not remembering had been the safer, preferable option, for now she’d remembered she could never forget.

Turning her gaze from the side window, Mandy looked towards the front – at the backs of her parents’ heads. Her mother was directly in front in the passenger seat, and her father to the right in the driver’s seat, exactly as she remembered them from outings as a child. Only now her father’s hair was streaked with grey, and her mother’s was highlighted and in a shorter style. Her mother never drove when her father was in the car, saying she felt her driving was being scrutinized.

‘Why wasn’t Jimmy reported?’ Mandy asked, aware of Evelyn’s explanation but wanting to hear what her parents had to say.

There was a pause before her father answered while her mother looked straight ahead. ‘We didn’t want to put you through any more distress – the police interview, court, and having everyone know.’

‘Did we do wrong?’ her mother asked quickly, as though she’d always had doubts.

Mandy concentrated on the back of her mother’s head. ‘I honestly don’t know. But I think we should have talked about it at the time, or soon after. I’m having to go back and confront it all now, instead of then. It’s very raw.’

‘Our decision
was
wrong then,’ her mother said, and her voice caught in her throat.

‘I’m not blaming you,’ Mandy said quickly, touching her shoulder. ‘I understand you did what you thought was right at the time. But how can you be sure Jimmy didn’t go on and attack others after me? Has anyone heard from him? Does anyone know where he lives or what he’s been doing?’

‘No,’ her father said. ‘We hardly knew him, thank goodness. We’d only ever met him twice – at Evelyn’s wedding and at Sarah’s christening. John severed all communication and never saw him
again, which I understand from Evelyn placed him in a dreadful position in respect of his mother.’

And what about my position? Mandy thought, but didn’t say. Then something occurred to her. ‘Evelyn told me John visits his mother in a nursing home. I wonder if Jimmy visits her too? If he does it’s possible John has seen Jimmy at the nursing home, if they were both visiting at the same time.’

‘It’s possible,’ her father agreed. ‘I don’t know. Their mother refused to believe Jimmy had done anything wrong, which I suppose is understandable – he was her son. Does it matter if he visits her?’

Mandy shrugged. ‘Probably not.’ She looked out of the side window at the passing scenery. There were so many issues to acknowledge and deal with, so many pieces to fit into the jigsaw before she could even begin to let go of the past and move on. And while she felt angry that Jimmy’s mother had refused to believe what he’d done, as her father said it was understandable – what mother wouldn’t believe her son over a distant relative?

‘When did I see the doctor?’ Mandy asked after a moment, returning her gaze to the front. ‘Evelyn said I saw a doctor but I don’t remember.’

‘It was the following day,’ her mother said quietly. ‘It was very distressing – for us both. And the upset, together with the results of the examination, helped your father and me come to the decision not to report Jimmy.’ She stopped, leaving the details unstated.

‘Mum, I need to know what the doctor said, distasteful and upsetting though it might be. This has all been shut away for far too long. I need to know what – what exactly Jimmy did to me.’

There was silence as her father concentrated on the road ahead and her mother sat motionless, looking through the windscreen.
Mandy felt their reticence and discomposure. ‘Mum? It is important. I need to know.’

‘The doctor had to examine you thoroughly,’ she began in a hurry,‘where you’d been hurt. I hated putting you through that – a girl of your age, after everything, but it was necessary. The doctor took swabs – you know, samples – and had them sent away. We didn’t get the results for two weeks but when they came back they were negative. You didn’t have a venereal disease. And the examination showed you’d been bruised but not fully penetrated. The hymen was still in place, so technically you were still a virgin. The doctor said that if we were going to report it to the police it would have to be done immediately otherwise valuable evidence would be lost. Your father and I had to make the decision whether to go ahead and subject you to another medical by a police doctor, and all that would follow – being interviewed and going to court – or just try and get on with our lives. We decided to try and put it all behind us and forget; only of course the only one who “forgot” was you.’

She stopped and fell silent, and for some time all that could be heard was the distant hum of the car engine and the occasional swish as the wipers cleared the spots of rain.

‘But it wasn’t genuine forgetting,’ Mandy said. ‘It was like amnesia where somehow I’d blotted it all out.’

‘And I always thought that one day it would come back to you and we’d all have to deal with it,’ her mother said, glancing sideways at her father. ‘I was right.’

‘We’ll pay for whatever help you need,’ her father said, meeting her eyes in the mirror. ‘Evelyn thinks a counsellor or therapist could help. If you think it will, we’ll find one and I’ll pay for it as long as you need it. I did what I thought was right at the time, Mandy, and if I was wrong, then I’m very sorry, I’ll try and put it right in any way I can.’

‘Thanks,’ she said, and realized her father was finally calling her Mandy rather than the Amanda of her childhood.

T
hey pulled up outside her flat at nearly 4.30 p.m. and, as her father took her suitcase from the boot, Mandy kissed her mother goodbye. ‘I’ll phone this evening,’ her mother said for the second time.

‘All right, but please don’t worry, I’ll be fine,’ Mandy reassured her.

Her father insisted on carrying her case up to her flat despite Mandy’s assurance she could manage. She wanted to be alone, was looking forward to it, just her in her flat, before Adam arrived after work in an hour or so. Going down the short garden path, with her father following, her heart skipped a beat as she unlocked the front door and stepped into the hall. After ten days away she was greeting it afresh: the high Victorian ceiling with its permanent damp spot, the wallpaper below the dado rail in need of a coat of paint, and the original mosaic-tiled floor slightly grubby from the comings and goings of the tenants – all shabby compared to her aunt’s house but oh so welcoming as home.

She picked up the letters on the small table just inside the hall and quickly sifted through them, but none were for her. Adam had probably put her mail in her flat when he’d stopped by with the milk and bread. Leading the way up the wide balustraded staircase, she turned on to the landing and was finally outside her very own front door. Inserting the key, she unlocked the door, then pushed it open and heard the familiar squeak. ‘That hinge
needs oiling,’ her father said, following her in with the case. ‘I’ll see to it if you have a can of oil.’

‘I don’t. I’ll do it another time. Thanks, anyway.’

‘Where do you want the case?’ he asked, unwilling to simply pass it to her and leave. ‘It’s heavy.’

‘On the bed, please.’

She waited just inside the room as her father crossed to the recess – the bedroom part of the studio flat – and lifted the case on to the bed. ‘You will be all right, alone?’ he asked, glancing anxiously around.

‘Yes, please don’t worry. I’ll be fine. Adam will be here soon.’

‘Well, if you’re sure.’ He hesitated, then came over and kissed her goodbye. ‘Thanks again for everything you did for Grandpa. I’ll phone later. There’s no need to see me out.’

She went with him on to the landing and then waited at the top of the stairs as he went down. ‘Bye,’ she called as he arrived at the bottom.

He glanced up. ‘Bye for now, love. Take care.’ Opening the front door, he let himself out as Tina from the downstairs flat came in. Mandy knew her well; they’d texted while she’d been away.

‘Hi,’ Tina called, looking up and seeing Mandy. ‘Glad you’re back. Fancy a drink later?’

‘Adam’s coming. Tomorrow?’

‘Sure. I’ll knock for you about eight?’

‘Great.’

Re-entering her flat, Mandy closed the door and wandered slowly around the room, savouring everything anew. The faded green leather armchair beside the Turkish rug; the massive oak wardrobe with the warped door that stuck; the three-quarter-size bed that squeaked; and the Japanese-style dressing screen with the nightclothes she’d been wearing on the morning she’d left
still flung over it. It was home and it was hers. The room smelt faintly musty from being closed up and she crossed to the bay window and hauled up one of the lower sashes. The late afternoon air rushed in, sharp and fresh, stirring the curtains and breathing life into the room. Going to the kitchenette, she opened the fridge door. Not only had Adam bought milk and bread but also eggs, bacon, cheese, juice, a fresh cream éclair – her favourite – and a bottle of white wine. She smiled at his thoughtfulness. Resisting the temptation to open the wine, she took out the milk to make a cup of tea, filled the kettle and, while it boiled, crossed to her suitcase to start unpacking.

She removed two items and stopped, suddenly and completely overwhelmed by a debilitating sadness. Coming from nowhere and with an intensity that was frightening, it engulfed her as though the biggest, blackest cloud had settled over the sun, obliterating any chance of light, now or in the future. Straightening, she left the unpacking and sat on the bed beside the open case. She stared unseeing at the floor, her mind a blank. Her body felt so heavy and weighted down, it was almost impossible to move; everything seemed too much effort. Of course she was sad, she thought, her dear grandpa had died, but this was more than sorrow, it was as if she were being buried alive. A darkness, a bleakness so dense that everything – her past, present and future – seemed completely pointless, her whole life not worth living.

She sat further back on the bed and curled her legs around her. The kettle boiled and clicked off; the old fridge hummed with the effort of keeping its contents cold; and the street noise filtered in through the open window. Gradually the late afternoon light began to fail and the room lost its sharpness. Mandy remained where she was on the bed, hardly moving and staring into space. She heard the doorbell ring; Adam was outside waiting for her to
go down and let him in. She didn’t move. A few minutes later it rang again and she knew he would assume she was in the shower or toilet and use his key to let himself in. A moment later he was knocking at her door and his key was in the lock.

Hauling herself to her feet, her legs stiff from sitting in one position, she crossed the room and switched on the light. The door opened. ‘Hi, love!’ he cried, pleased to see her. ‘How’s my Mandy?’ She felt his arms around her, hugging for all he was worth, and then his lips seeking hers. She instinctively drew back. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Insensitive me. Let’s sit and talk.’

With his arm around her shoulder they crossed to the bed. He lifted the case on to the floor to make room for them. She sat beside him, their legs outstretched, using the wall as a backrest as they often sat in the evenings. ‘How are you?’ he asked tenderly. ‘You must be very sad. I can remember how I felt when I lost my granddad.’

She shrugged despondently. ‘Yes, I am sad, but not only from losing Grandpa. There’s something else, Adam.’

‘What sort of something? You’re not going to finish with me, are you?’ he said lightly, as a joke, but with an underlying anxiety as though he feared it could be so.

‘No.’ She rested her head on his shoulder and, staring across the room, tried to formulate her thoughts. How she wished her sadness could just be put down to bereavement, how simple that would be. She knew she owed Adam some explanation; he was after all her partner; but how much she could tell him she wasn’t sure. ‘Something happened to me a long while ago,’ she tried. ‘While I was at Evelyn’s I discovered something and I’m trying to sort through it and deal with it.’

‘What sort of something?’ he asked, looking at her anxiously. ‘Why are you being so vague?’

‘It was when I was just thirteen, ’ she began, and stopped. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I’m sorry, Adam; you’re going to have to be patient with me.’ For suddenly she’d found that she couldn’t tell Adam. That despite, or possibly because of, the closeness of their relationship, the last person she wanted to tell – to know – she’d been sexually assaulted was Adam. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. ‘You’re going to have to be patient with me.’

He gave her shoulder a little squeeze of reassurance and kissed her cheek. They were silent for some time. She felt awkward and knew she should be saying or doing something after all his thoughtfulness, but what? ‘Thanks for putting the things in the fridge,’ she said at length.

‘No problem. Shall we open the wine?’

‘I don’t mind,’ she said unenthusiastically. And she really didn’t mind; in fact, not only didn’t she mind, she couldn’t be bothered even to think about it. He could open the wine if he wished or leave it in the fridge – either way, it made no difference.

‘Or would you like to go out for something to eat?’ he offered.

‘Not really. Thanks anyway.’ He was trying so hard, and she felt wretched for not being able to respond, but she really didn’t care right now – about wine, going out, or even him. And whereas, not so long ago – that morning and during the drive here – she’d been looking forward to being close to him again, lying in his arms and feeling his body caress hers, she now found that not only didn’t she want him physically near her but she was feeling repulsed by the idea.

‘You OK, Mandy?’ he asked after a moment, sensing her disquiet and kissing her cheek again. ‘Is there anything I can do or get you, love?’

She shrugged. ‘Not really.’ Then she realized there was something he could do, cruel though it was to suggest it. ‘Adam, I’m
so sorry,’ she said, shifting away from him. ‘But I need to be alone.’

He looked at her, surprised. ‘Do you want me to go?’

She nodded and hated herself. Good, kind Adam.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, I’m sorry.’ She could see his pain at her rebuff.

Sliding his arm from her shoulders he moved to the edge of the bed and stood up. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. ‘I was looking forward to seeing you but it doesn’t feel right – not tonight.’

He stared at her, hurt and confused; he didn’t understand, but then why should he? She didn’t either. Sliding off the bed, she walked with him to the door. ‘Will you be all right alone?’ he asked, as her father had done.

‘Yes. I’ll phone you.’

She saw his concern mingle with rejection as he leant forward to kiss her lips. Instinctively she moved her head to one side so his lips brushed her cheek instead. He opened the door and in silence let himself out. She watched him go and knew again she was a cold-hearted bitch. Loyal, caring Adam, who’d put up with so much from her and who, a few days before, had asked her to live with him and be his partner, now dismissed without explanation. It would serve her right if he never wanted to see her again, wanted nothing more to do with her. And whereas, before, she’d always been distraught at the prospect of losing him and had quickly tried to make up any argument, she now found herself thinking it didn’t really matter, and in some ways it would be easier, a lot easier, if she didn’t have a relationship to deal with.