The Girl in the Mirror (22 page)

A
cold chill settled down Mandy’s spine and her heart beat loudly in her chest. This wasn’t going to plan, not at all. There was something wrong. The expression on his daughter’s face wasn’t what Mandy had expected, and neither was her response. It wasn’t appropriate. His daughter had appeared shocked and confused, but why? Mandy had only asked to see her father; what had made her so worried and defensive? Why had she said no? Why hadn’t she just told Mandy he wasn’t home? No, this wasn’t going to plan at all, and she didn’t understand why. Don’t panic, she told herself; when his wife comes simply ask for him.

The door opened again and, unlike his daughter, whom Mandy hadn’t recognized from ten years earlier, his wife did look vaguely familiar. ‘I’m sorry you’ve been disturbed,’ Mandy said straight away. ‘It was Mr Osborne I wanted to speak to.’

Mrs Osborne was short and petite, with chin-length brown hair. Her skin was pale, she wore no make-up and her gaze was expressionless. ‘What’s it in connection with?’ she asked, with the same edge of defensiveness her daughter had used.

‘It’s personal.’ Mandy said too quickly, abruptly, and then added, ‘I really need to speak to him, please.’

The woman held her gaze. Her daughter appeared behind her further down the hall. There was silence for what seemed like hours. Then she seemed to gather herself and, straightening her
shoulders, almost looked through Mandy. With resignation – as though she was repeating something she’d had to say many times before – she said: ‘I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but my husband is dead.’

Mandy heard the words but didn’t believe them. It’s a lie, she thought, a conspiracy to stop me from seeing him and confronting him with the truth. Someone has warned her I’m coming. He’s hiding inside the house. She looked past his wife and down the hall to his daughter. Both women were looking at her, their expressions very serious. Mandy began to wonder if it could be true. Was Jimmy really dead? ‘Dead?’ she repeated. Mrs Osborne nodded. ‘But he can’t be. I need to see him. How am I going to deal with all this now?’ She felt the colour drain from her face and her head began to spin. She grabbed the edge of the door to steady herself.

‘Are you all right?’ his wife asked, stepping forward and holding her arm. ‘Do you want to sit down?’

Mandy nodded. The walls of the porch were tilting and felt as if they were closing in.

‘Come in, through here.’

Mandy allowed herself to be led over the doorstep and into the lounge at the front of the house. ‘Sit down,’ she heard Mrs Osborne say, then to her daughter:‘Hannah, can you bring a glass of water, please?’

Mandy sat on the sofa with her head down and took deep breaths. She thought she was going to faint from the shock of what she had been told. Jimmy was dead and had therefore escaped, and for a moment she wished she was dead too.

Raising her head slightly, Mandy accepted the glass of water Hannah brought, and mother and daughter watched as she took a few sips. Gradually the room lost its tilt and she felt less sick.
She raised her head further and leant back on the sofa. ‘Thank you,’ she said, looking at his wife. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Sorry for what?’ Hannah asked, almost pouncing on her. Mandy saw her mother throw her a warning glance.

‘For being such a nuisance.’ She took another sip of water and looked up at the two of them standing in front of her. ’It was kind of you to ask me in.’

Neither of the women spoke. Mandy looked from one to the other. They were waiting for an explanation as to why she’d arrived asking for Jimmy. She wasn’t sure she could, or should, give it now. It was obvious Mrs Osborne hadn’t recognized her, and part of her said she should just leave, while another part said she should stay and confront her. Mrs Osborne had been there on the night of the attack and had presumably stayed married to Jimmy afterwards. Didn’t she have a duty to tell her what she knew?

‘How long ago did Mr Osborne die?’ Mandy asked after a moment, looking at Mrs Osborne.

‘Four months,’ she said, as though it was a figure she held constantly in her head.

Mandy gave a small nod and looked at the glass in her hand. She knew she should really offer her condolences but couldn’t bring herself to utter them. She wondered if John knew his brother was dead, and if he did, why he or Evelyn hadn’t told her.

Mandy looked up from the glass to Mrs Osborne and before she had the chance to change her mind said: ‘I’m Mandy, John’s niece.’

Both women stared at her in disbelief. ‘Mandy?’ his wife repeated, clearly shocked. Hannah had visibly paled, which was odd, for while Mandy would have expected Mrs Osborne to have remembered her and what had happened, Hannah had been far
too young. Had she heard her parents talk of her? Had they discussed what had happened?

‘What do you want?’ his widow asked, her voice slight and uneven.

Mandy paused. ‘Does my uncle John know he is dead?’

Mrs Osborne glanced at her daughter before replying. ‘No. Jimmy had been ostracized by John and his family. I saw no reason to tell them. Why?’

‘And their mother?’ Mandy asked, ignoring her question. ‘She’s in a nursing home. Did you tell her?’

Another glance between mother and daughter before Mrs Osborne answered: ‘I phoned the nursing home and the matron said she would tell her. But his mother has advanced Alzheimer’s so she wouldn’t have remembered. What do you want, Mandy? Tell me, please, or leave.’

Mandy heard the edge of desperation in Mrs Osborne’s voice. She and Hannah were still looking at her; they seemed almost fearful of her intentions.

‘Do you know what happened to me?’ Mandy asked quietly after a moment, looking at his widow.

She nodded solemnly.

Mandy looked at his daughter. ‘Do you, Hannah?’

‘Both my daughters know now,’ Mrs Osborne said. ‘I told them last year.’

There was another silence. Then Mrs Osborne moved from beside her daughter to sit with Mandy on the sofa. ‘Mandy,’ she said slowly, gently, partly turning towards her. ‘Tell me why you’ve come here and perhaps I can help you. You’re looking for Jimmy, but why now, after all these years?’

Mandy met her gaze. ‘I came here to confront him. I know this sounds crazy but I didn’t know what had happened on that night
until last week, when I suddenly remembered. My mind had blotted it all out – a type of amnesia – and no one had told me. My parents never spoke of it and neither did my grandparents. My father stopped us seeing Evelyn, John and Sarah, and I never knew why. Then a month ago my dear grandpa became very ill and I went to stay at Evelyn’s to help nurse him. It was the first time I’d returned to that house since the night Jimmy…’ She couldn’t bring herself to say it even now. ‘As soon as I walked in I started having strange thoughts – flashbacks to the last time I’d stayed, ten years before. Then I remembered what had happened. I’m still trying to come to terms with it.’ She paused. ‘Dear Grandpa died last week.’

‘I’m sorry. He was a lovely man, a real gentleman.’ Mrs Osborne sounded genuinely sorry.

Mandy nodded. ‘Since then, since I remembered, I’ve been in turmoil. I’m confused, angry and upset. It’s like an open wound. Because I never dealt with the pain and anger at the time I’m having to deal with it now. I am feeling now what I should have felt then. I came here wanting to confront Jimmy and force him to realize what he’d done to me, then I was going to report him to the police. I know ten years is a long time, but he’s never been punished and he should have been. I needed him to be. That’s what I thought, anyway.’ She stopped and felt utterly defeated.

There was a long silence that seemed to stretch back ten years. Mandy concentrated on the glass of water in her hand and felt the weight of Mrs Osborne and her daughter’s gaze on her. Then she heard Mrs Osborne take a breath. ‘Mandy, would it help you if I told you what happened that night?’

Mandy looked up and saw Mrs Osborne’s pain and regret. ‘Yes, I think it would.’

She nodded and looked at her daughter. ‘Hannah, if you don’t want to hear this again, I suggest you leave the room.’

‘I’ll stay,’ she said with a shrug, and sat in the armchair.

Mandy returned her gaze to Mrs Osborne and waited. For a few seconds nothing could be heard but the tick of the clock on the wall as Mrs Osborne stared at a spot on the floor a little way in front of her. Then with a sharp intake of breath she began, her voice flat and carefully controlled. Mandy knew that the image of what happened that night was as vivid now for Mrs Osborne as it had been ten years ago.

‘We were staying at Evelyn and John’s for the weekend. It was a hot day – scorching hot, and we’d all been in the garden until very late. The girls wouldn’t settle in a room on their own in a strange house so I was sleeping with them. Hannah was three at the time and Vanessa was eighteen months. Vanessa is eleven now and is at her friend’s for tea. Hannah is thirteen.’ She nodded towards her daughter. ‘I slept in a room with the girls and Jimmy slept in another room further along the landing. That house was so big we could have had a room each if we’d wanted.’ She smiled reflectively. ‘John did very well for himself, far better than Jimmy, in all respects.

‘I was fast asleep in the middle of the double bed with Vanessa on one side and Hannah on the other. Suddenly I was woken by Jimmy roughly shaking my shoulder and telling me we all had to get dressed and go. I thought it was some sort of joke to begin with and told him to be quiet as he would wake the girls. He began pulling the duvet off and then dragging me out of bed. I realized it wasn’t a joke. The girls were waking and were very upset. He was very agitated and kept tugging at me and repeating we had to get dressed quickly and go.’

‘Didn’t you ask him why?’ Mandy said.

‘Of course. All he would say was there’d been a dreadful mistake and he would explain in the car. He threw our clothes at me and told us to get dressed, and then began tossing all our things into the suitcase. I looked at my watch; it was two o’clock in the morning. I tried to pacify the girls and dress them at the same time. It was chaos. I remember thinking all the noise must have woken Evelyn and Mrs Pryce and I couldn’t understand why they hadn’t come to see what was the matter. Jimmy kept shouting at us to hurry. I finished dressing the girls and then scrambled into my own clothes. Jimmy took the suitcase and bags and I carried Vanessa and held Hannah’s hand. All the lights were on in the house and we went downstairs and into the hall. The girls were still crying. John was alone in the hall; I looked at him for an explanation but he turned away. He didn’t speak. He opened the front door and shut it as soon as we were out. He didn’t say a word and he didn’t see us into the car. I wondered where everyone was. It was later I found out you were upstairs with Mrs Pryce, and Evelyn was comforting Sarah in the lounge.

‘I sat in the back of the car with the girls while Jimmy drove. It took me ages to settle the girls – they couldn’t understand what was happening any more than I could. I remember I could see Jimmy’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. He was concentrating on the road but there was something else, apart from anger – something cold and unforgiving. I remember thinking that whoever had upset him would have to work hard to earn his forgiveness. Once the girls were asleep I asked Jimmy again what had happened. He’d calmed down a bit by then. He said there’d been a terrible misunderstanding and he wasn’t in any way to blame. He said he was furious with John for taking the word of an adolescent over his own brother. I asked him again what exactly had happened, and finally he told me. He said it was nearly one
a.m. and he couldn’t get to sleep. He was thirsty and decided to go down to get a drink of water. He didn’t put on the landing light for fear of disturbing anyone. He crept along the landing but as he passed your bedroom door – you always slept in the Pink Room – he heard you cry out with a nightmare. He crept in to reassure you, but when he tried to comfort you you screamed out for help. Sarah woke and came in and saw Jimmy by your bed and completely misinterpreted what she saw. She started screaming too and her screams woke Evelyn. At that point Jimmy realized they weren’t open to reason and went back to his own room. John went into his room a few minutes later and told him to fetch us and go.’

She stopped. The air was quiet again. ‘And you believed him?’ Mandy asked at length.

Mrs Osborne nodded. ‘Yes, completely. At the time I had no reason to doubt him. He’d never been accused of anything like that before, obviously, and what wife wouldn’t believe her husband over a teenage girl?’

Mandy said nothing. It sounded very reasonable.

‘When I thought about it afterwards,’ Mrs Osborne continued, ‘the only concern I had with what Jimmy had told me was John’s behaviour. It seemed an over-reaction to throw us out in the middle of the night for what had been simply a misunderstanding. Jimmy told me that John never wanted to see or speak to us again. It played on my mind, and a week later, when Jimmy was at work, I phoned Evelyn and asked her what exactly had happened. She was curt with me, and her version of events was very different from Jimmy’s. She said Sarah had heard you cry for help and went into your room. She found Jimmy on top of you on the bed with his pyjama bottoms round his ankles. Evelyn heard Sarah scream and when she arrived Jimmy got off the bed
and ran out past her. I was horrified. I didn’t know what to believe. Evelyn told me never to phone again.

‘When Jimmy came home from work that evening I admitted I’d phoned Evelyn, and told him what she’d said. He was furious – he had a terrible temper. He said it was ridiculous, and how could I begin to believe the nonsense of two hysterical teenage girls over him. He said if there’d been a shred of evidence the police would have been knocking on our door by now, which seemed logical to me. So I accepted what he said and we never spoke of it again.’ She stopped and looked carefully at Mandy. ‘Why didn’t you report it to the police, Mandy?’

Mandy held her gaze. ‘My parents thought I’d suffered enough and that they were protecting me. They didn’t want me to go through another medical, police interview, and then have to relive it all again in court, and be cross-examined by a barrister. They thought it would be too distressing so, like you, we never talked of it again. I guess their decision was very lucky for you, Jimmy and your daughters.’