The Girl in the Mirror (24 page)

F
licking on the light switch, Mandy dropped her bag by the door and went to the fridge, where she finished the carton of orange juice. She should really have had something to eat but she couldn’t face it yet – her stomach was churning with the thought of the phone call she had to make to John. How much of the detail surrounding the circumstances of Jimmy’s death she should tell him she didn’t know. She’d thought about it the entire train journey home and still hadn’t decided.

She dumped the empty carton of juice in the swing-top bin and then crossed to the bay windows and pulled the curtains. It was nearly 9 p.m. and dark outside. She took her phone from her bag and sat in the armchair. She needed to get the call over and done with and then she would phone Adam. There was still time to see him, and she wanted to see him very much.

Flipping up the lid on her phone the screen illuminated. She pressed
Contacts
, and then
E
– John was listed under E for Evelyn and John. Their landline number highlighted and she pressed to connect. She felt hot and uncomfortable; she was after all about to tell John his brother was dead. If Evelyn answered she wasn’t sure if she should tell her or whether she should ask for John. She hoped it wasn’t the answerphone for it would mean phoning back later or very early the following morning – it wasn’t a message you could leave on a machine.

‘Hello?’ a bright young female voice said, and for a moment Mandy thought she must have the wrong number.

‘I’m sorry, who am I speaking to?’ Mandy asked. ‘I wanted John Osborne?’

There was a moment’s pause and then a small laugh. ‘Hi, Mandy, it’s Sarah.’

‘Sorry, I didn’t recognize your voice.’

‘Not surprising. It’s over ten years since we last spoke on the phone. Dad is right beside me. I’ll put him on. Simon and I were just leaving. See you tomorrow. Are you coming back here for the buffet after?’ Mandy thought she made the funeral sound like a party.

‘I expect so. I’m coming with Mum and Dad so it will depend on them. See you tomorrow.’

There was a small clunk as she handed the phone to John. Mandy heard John say goodbye to Sarah and Simon before his voice came on the line. ‘Hello, Mandy. Everything all right?’

‘No, not really.’ She paused and took a breath. ‘John, I’m sorry to be the one to have to tell you this, but I learnt today that Jimmy is dead.’There was silence the other end which Mandy took to be shock. ‘I went to his house earlier today. I needed to confront him, and his wife and daughter told me.’

There was more silence, and then she heard John clear his throat. ‘Thank you for telling me, Mandy, but I already know.’

‘You do?’

‘Yes. I knew the Saturday after it happened. When I visited my mother – our mother – at the nursing home, the matron offered me her condolences and said she was sorry to hear of my brother’s death. I was shocked, obviously – Jimmy was only young, but I didn’t let on to the matron I didn’t know. Jimmy’s wife, Natalie, had phoned the nursing home and asked if they
would tell Mum of Jimmy’s death. But of course with the Alzheimer’s Mum hadn’t remembered. She doesn’t even know she has sons.’ His voice fell away.

Mandy hesitated. ‘Do you know how he died?’ she asked tentatively.

‘Yes. I went to the inquest. He committed suicide.’

She hesitated again. ‘And the reason why he committed suicide? About his daughter, Hannah?’

‘Yes,’ he said sombrely.

She paused, and then her anger bubbled over. ‘So why didn’t you tell me?’ she demanded. ‘Why didn’t you tell me he was dead or that he’d been accused of assaulting his daughter? Why didn’t you or Evelyn say something when I remembered what had happened to me? I don’t understand!’

There was a long pause before John’s voice came on the line again, measured and very serious: ‘We didn’t think it would help you to know, Mandy. And there was the worry that if you knew about Hannah you might in some way feel responsible.’

‘Too right I feel responsible. And who’s “we”?’ she demanded again. ‘Who made the decision not to tell me?’

‘Your father. And I agreed with him.’

‘So he knows about Jimmy as well!’

‘Yes.’

‘And when did the two of you agree to keep this from me?’ She was furious – having just been released from one set of lies she now found she was the victim of another.

‘When you offered to stay to help nurse Grandpa your father was worried that Jimmy might still be visiting our house,’ John said. ‘So I told him Jimmy was dead. When he pressed me I told him the details surrounding his death.’

‘And no one thought to tell me! What else don’t I know?’

‘Nothing. That’s it.’

‘Are you completely sure, John? Everyone in this family seems very good at sharing confidences without telling me.’

‘Mandy,’ he said, raising his voice slightly. ‘It’s the truth. When you decided to stay and help us with Grandpa your father told me that none of you had ever spoken of that night in all this time and he wanted it kept that way. I thought it was odd but that was his decision. Evelyn and I promised your father we wouldn’t say anything to you, and we didn’t. When you remembered what had happened I phoned your father the next morning and told him. Your father was adamant that you shouldn’t be told about Jimmy’s death and the reason he’d committed suicide. He couldn’t see it would help you, and I agreed. He wanted to protect you, Mandy. If anyone should feel guilty for not reporting Jimmy at the time it’s your father and me. And we do. It was a disastrous decision, given what happened since, and we’re having to live with that.’

Mandy stared across the room, the phone pressed to her ear, angry, frustrated, yet reluctantly understanding that they’d only been trying to protect her. Her gaze moved across the room to her collection of china dogs, lovingly saved up for and bought with her pocket money. How long ago that simple pleasure now seemed; how far away the naivety of childhood.

‘Mandy,’ John was saying, ‘when the funeral is over I might give Natalie a ring and see if there is anything I can do. It’s time we tried to put the past behind and look to the future.’

‘Yes, I’m sure she’d appreciate that.’ She sighed, suddenly exhausted. ‘I’ll go now. Mum and Dad are collecting me early tomorrow.’

‘All right. See you tomorrow. I’m sorry if we did the wrong thing.’

Mandy said goodbye, cleared the call and sat for some moments staring thoughtfully across the room. The future, yes:
John was right it was time to try and move on – to a future that wasn’t complicated by the secrecy of the past. Returning her attention to the phone she pressed Adam’s number and he answered immediately. ‘Hi love, you’re back early. Did you have a good time?’

‘I didn’t visit a friend,’ she said carefully. ‘I’ve been to Cambridgeshire to try and sort out my past. Adam, I know it’s late but would you like to come round?’

She heard his hesitation, and for a moment thought he was going to say no – that he’d had enough of her blowing hot and cold, and thought it was best they parted. ‘One problem,’ he said. ‘I’ve just bought fish and chips. How about I bring them with me and heat them up in your microwave?’

‘Great,’ she said, relieved. ‘And I’ll help you eat them. I’ve suddenly realized how hungry I am.’

‘In that case I’ll pick up another portion on the way over, together with a bottle of wine. See you soon.’

H
alf an hour later she sat opposite Adam at the small table in her bedsitting room; they were eating fish and chips with their fingers. The smell of fried fish drifted around the room and out on to the landing. She owned cutlery, of course, but there was something especially delicious about eating fish and chips straight from the paper, dripping in vinegar and coated with an unhealthy amount of salt. It was wonderfully reminiscent of holidays as a child. Adam had opened the wine and was soon refilling their glasses. Only when they’d finished eating, and Mandy had fetched the roll of kitchen towel to wipe the grease from their fingers, and had thrown the fish wrappings in the bin, did she begin to tell him.

She took another sip of wine and then, reaching across the table for his hand, began by telling him of the night, ten years ago, when Jimmy had come into her room. His horror was obvious as she described the terror of waking in the dark to find Jimmy on top of her, then the ten years when her mind had blocked it out and no one had spoken of it. She described the strange thoughts and flashbacks she’d experienced when she’d returned to Evelyn’s house, culminating in the night when she’d remembered. Adam was quiet and very still as she spoke, his gaze not moving from hers. She finished by telling him of her visit to Jimmy’s wife and daughter and the phone call she’d made earlier that evening to John.

‘I don’t know what to say,’ Adam said at length, visibly shocked. ‘But why didn’t you tell me sooner, Mandy? I could have helped.’

‘I couldn’t. I had to sort it out in my own head first before I found the words or courage to tell you. And I guess I’m still sorting it out.’ She looked away and felt his hand squeeze hers.

‘And you’re sure you don’t want me to go with you to the funeral tomorrow? I can if you want.’

‘I’ll be OK with Mum and Dad, and I need to talk to them about all this. It will be a good opportunity.’

He paused. ‘Mandy, there’s something I need to talk to
you
about. It’s been on my mind for a while. I won’t be offended if it’s not right. Just be honest and tell me what you think.’

She looked at him with a stab of unease. ‘What have I done?’

‘Nothing bad.’ He smiled and turned to his jacket hanging on the back of his chair. Delving into the inside pocket, he took out a small paper bag and a folded sheet of A4 paper, which he tilted towards him so she couldn’t see.

‘I hope you haven’t forgotten your promise,’ he said. ‘The one you made at your aunt’s?’ She frowned questioningly. ‘You agreed we should move in together, so I’ve been looking at flats. What do you think?’ He opened the sheet of paper and placed it in front of her. Mandy gazed down at the estate agent’s details and a photograph of the outside of a flat. ‘It’s in a small new development,’ Adam said. ‘Ten minutes’ walk from the station, which will be good for me getting into work. It’s got a lounge, kitchen, one big bedroom and a smaller one.’ He pointed to the photographs on the details as he spoke. ‘The spare room is very light and would make an ideal studio.’ He gave a small nervous laugh. ‘The rent isn’t too bad and there’s my salary and also that bit of money my granddad left me. So there you go. What do you think, Mandy?’

She looked up and, smiling, felt her eyes mist. ‘I think the flat looks wonderful, Adam, and I think you are too.’

‘Good, because I’ve put down the deposit and we can have the keys next week.’

She gasped, but before she had time to say anything Adam was opening the paper bag and taking out a small jeweller’s box. ‘I know we agreed we would live together and not think about getting married, but I wanted to buy you something to mark the occasion. I haven’t bought you anything in ages, apart from fish and chips. I hope you like it and it’s entirely up to you which finger you wear it on.’ He looked at her, embarrassed. Opening the box he set it on the table in front of her, beside the estate agent details.

She looked at the ring and her eyes filled. ‘And I used to think you weren’t romantic!’ She laughed and blinked back the tears. ‘It’s beautiful, absolutely perfect, it must have cost a fortune.’

‘You really like it?’ he asked, concerned.

‘Yes, it’s exactly what I would have chosen. Thank you so much.’

He smiled, pleased. ‘It should fit,’ he said. ‘I used my little finger as a gauge. I know your other ring goes down to my first knuckle.’

She felt him watching her intently as she carefully lifted the diamond solitaire from the box. It caught in the overhead light and its facets glinted all the colours of the rainbow. ‘It’s absolutely lovely,’ she said again. Holding it in her right hand, she slowly slid it over the third finger on her left hand. It fitted perfectly.

Adam stood and came round the table. Taking her gently by the shoulders, he drew her to her feet and kissed her, first on the cheek and then fully on the lips.

‘It’s a bit late for going home,’ she said as he drew back. ‘Why don’t you stay the night?’

‘I will if you really want me to, Mandy.’

‘Yes, I want you to.’

S
eated in the rear of the car behind her mother, Mandy gazed out of the side window with a warm feeling of inner peace. The familiar and repetitive scenery of fields running along the edge of the motorway encouraged her to daydream, and her thoughts had returned to the night before. Still gazing out of the side window, her fingers closed around the ring on her left hand and her heart skipped a beat. What a surprise. How romantic! She’d never have thought it of Adam. Finding the flat and then presenting her with the ring at the end of their fish-and-chip supper. She smiled. He’d left for work before her parents had arrived, but she’d shown them the ring and told them of their plans to move in together, and they were delighted. They liked Adam and had offered to help with the move. But now she needed to raise a subject with them that would be less welcome. If she didn’t raise it now it would hang over her, growing in magnitude as grievances left unspoken so often do.

‘Dad,’ she said presently, bringing her gaze forward. ‘Did John phone you last night after I’d spoken to him?’ For it seemed the nature of their family’s dynamics that he might.

‘Early this morning,’ her father confirmed.

‘And he told to you I went to see Jimmy?’

He nodded, while her mother sat very still.

‘Were Gran and Grandpa told of Jimmy’s death?’

He nodded again. ‘Shortly after he died, but not the details – not about his daughter, nor how he died. They didn’t need to know, and your gran certainly doesn’t now, she’s had enough upset.’ Mandy heeded the warning not to tell her. ‘I asked your grandparents not to say anything to you. I didn’t want Jimmy’s name ever mentioned again. So if you are looking for someone to blame, it’s me,’ he finished uncharacteristically sharply, taking the criticism personally.

‘I’m not blaming you, Dad,’ she said quickly. ‘I’m just trying to piece together the past. When I remembered what Jimmy had done didn’t you think it was a good time to tell me he was dead?’

He glanced at her in the interior mirror. ‘Clearly not. If I’d known it was so important to you, I would have told you. I thought the whole subject was best left alone. Perhaps I should have told you what John told your grandparents – that Jimmy had died of a heart attack. That way you would have been satisfied and not gone on a quest for more information. It’s bad enough knowing that my decision allowed Jimmy to go on and attack others, without you feeling responsible too.’ He paused. Mandy remained quiet, stung by his admission of guilt. ‘As I said last week, Mandy, I’ll do what I can to help you – pay for a therapist if you think it will help, or perhaps you’d like to go on holiday with Adam? I’ll pay for it. But I can’t turn back the clock. If I could, I would, believe me, love.’

Mandy looked at him in the interior mirror as he concentrated on the road ahead. She saw the familiar little creases in the corners of his eyes that had grown over the years; the lines across his forehead, deeper now from frowning; his grey hair and receding hairline; and the humility and sadness in his gaze.

‘I know,’ she said quietly. ‘I know you did what you thought was best. I’ll be fine, really I will. Moving in with Adam will be a
fresh start. I’m just glad I found out now rather than later. There aren’t any more family secrets I should know about?’

‘Good heavens, no!’ he said with a small tight laugh. ‘I’d have thought that was enough!’

Easing out her seatbelt she leant forward between them and kissed their cheeks. ‘Good.’

The atmosphere in the car grew sombre as they approached the crematorium. Although they were half an hour early there were already a dozen or so mourners standing in small groups in the car park. Mandy didn’t recognize them, and neither did her parents. ‘Friends and neighbours, I expect,’ her father said. ‘Looks like we’re waiting for the service before to finish.’

He parked the car, cut the engine and opened the windows slightly for some fresh air. Through the open window Mandy could hear a lone song thrush trilling unseen in the branches overhead. The car park was surrounded by trees and shrubs, and the pathway leading to the chapel was lined with planters. The chapel itself was more like an ornate village church than a crematorium, and very different from the one she’d been to for Lucy’s funeral while at university. Lucy’s was the only other funeral Mandy had been to, and she remembered how she and her friends had cried continuously throughout the service, while Lucy’s parents had remained so brave and dignified. It was the futility of someone dying so young that had torn through her; how parents coped with losing a child, she’d no idea. ‘At least it’s a fine day for it,’ her mother said.

‘Yes,’ she agreed.

Three more cars pulled in and parked, but the occupants were also unfamiliar. A few minutes later the cortège appeared and Mandy was grateful they hadn’t had to be part of it. Seeing the
coffin was upsetting enough without having to journey behind it. The hearse drew slowly round and parked in front of the chapel, followed by the car with Gran, Evelyn and John. Mandy looked at the coffin, floating on a sea of flowers, and felt her eyes fill. Through the glass sides of the hearse the sun caught the brass handles of the coffin and they glinted in the light. On top of the coffin were three wreaths, one of which she knew was from her parents and her. The small groups of mourners who had been talking quietly were now silent and everyone was looking at the hearse. The pallbearers, in their tailed black suits, stepped from the front of the hearse and sedately put on their tall black hats. Her father raised the car windows, Mandy switched off her phone, and they got out.

John was helping Gran out of the car. Evelyn saw them and gave a little wave. Mandy felt the other mourners look at them as they made their way across the car park.

She kissed Gran first. ‘Hello, love,’ Gran said. She’d put on a little make-up – a touch of powder and lipstick – and Mandy’s heart went out to her. Dear Gran, so frail and sad, but wanting to look nice for her husband’s funeral. She hugged her and felt her thin shoulders beneath her coat.

‘You look very smart, Gran,’ she whispered.

‘So do you.’ She smiled. ‘Sarah and Simon are over there.’

Mandy looked over at the silver Mercedes sports which had followed in the cortège. Sarah and Simon were climbing out. As Gran began talking to her father Mandy went over to say hello. She wanted Sarah and Simon to see she wasn’t the hysterical wreck that had fled the house at their last meeting, and that there were no bad feelings. As usual they made a smart couple: Simon in a well-tailored grey suit and black tie and Sarah in a slim-fitting black dress and cardigan.

‘Hi, Mandy,’ Sarah said easily, air-kissing her. ‘You look well.’

‘Thank you. So do you.’

Simon shook her hand with more reserve. ‘Hello, Mandy.’

‘I’m not looking forward to this,’ Sarah confided. ‘I get so emotional at funerals. I can’t stop crying.’

‘I know what you mean,’ Mandy agreed. ‘Gran is being so brave.’

The three of them looked over to where Gran stood in the small circle talking with Evelyn, John, and Mandy’s parents.

‘Mandy,’ Sarah said, suddenly looking at her. ‘There’s something I have to tell you.’

‘Yes?’ Mandy asked lightly, guessing she was about to hear another of Sarah’s dramatized tales, like the one she’d told about the mouse that had got into her beauty salon and wreaked havoc.

‘You weren’t the only one Jimmy attacked,’ Sarah said bluntly.

Mandy looked at her, astonished, and wondered what had brought this on. Simon was looking at Sarah too. ‘I know,’ Mandy said. ‘Didn’t your father tell you I went to see Natalie and Hannah?’

‘Yes. But I’m not talking about Hannah or her friend Katie.’

Mandy continued to look at Sarah, as Simon took her arm. Clearly he knew what she was about to say.

‘Mandy,’ Sarah said, her face strained and serious, ‘six months before Jimmy attacked you, he tried to do the same to me.’ Mandy stared at her and felt her legs tremble. ‘I didn’t tell anyone at the time. I was too scared they wouldn’t believe me. It seemed impossible – my own uncle! It was only after he attacked you I found the courage to tell Mum and Dad. I’m sorry, Mandy. If I’d spoken out it might have saved you.’

Mandy continued to stare at her. Simon was watching her carefully.

‘So that’s why you had all that therapy? Not because of Jimmy’s attack on me, but because he attacked you?’

‘Both, really. I was in a right state. I’m OK now. I felt so guilty. I knew if I’d spoken out there was a good chance you wouldn’t have suffered. I am so sorry, Mandy,’ she said again. ‘Can you forgive me?’

Mandy gave a small smile. ‘There’s nothing to forgive. I understand why you didn’t report him – for the same reasons Hannah didn’t for all those years. Does your father know you’re telling me?’

Sarah nodded. ‘He said you should know. There have been enough secrets in our family to last a lifetime.’

‘I couldn’t agree more.’

As Sarah reached out and hugged her, Mandy caught a glimpse of the person she’d once known – the open Sarah who’d been her best friend and with whom she’d shared everything.

‘Thanks for being so understanding, Mandy; I hope we can be friends again.’

‘So do I. Perhaps you and Simon would like to visit when Adam and I are in our new flat?’ She showed her the ring. Sarah gave a little squeal of delight and kissed her again.

The side door of the chapel opened and as they looked over, the mourners from the previous service begin to file out. ‘Shall we go and join your parents?’ Simon said.

Sarah linked his arm and Mandy walked beside them as they crossed the car park. Another car pulled in and Mandy saw Mrs Pryce sitting in the passenger seat.

‘Good,’ Evelyn said, ‘I’m pleased she felt able to come.’Then to Gran: ‘Mum, Mrs Pryce is here with her brother. I invited her. I know she always thought the world of you and Dad.’

‘She still does,’ Gran said dryly. ‘You know, we didn’t stop seeing each other just because you fired her.’

Mandy saw the look on Evelyn’s face and had to stifle a smile. ‘Behave, Gran,’ she whispered.

‘I’ll try. But your grandpa and I never did like funerals. He swore he’d never go to mine. Looks like he kept his promise, the old devil.’

Mandy smiled sadly and kissed Gran’s cheek again. Then an air of expectation descended as the pallbearers opened the rear of the hearse. Everyone stopped talking and the other mourners began slowly moving forward in their small groups towards the entrance of the chapel.

‘The other mourners go into the chapel first,’ her father explained to her. ‘As chief mourners we walk in a procession behind the coffin.’

Mandy nodded. They were silent as the rest of the congregation filed into the chapel. Then the pallbearers began slowly sliding the coffin out of the back of the hearse. Raising it on to their shoulders they waited at the entrance to the chapel. Mandy’s father linked Gran’s arm over his and took up position immediately behind the coffin. Evelyn linked John’s arm and stood behind them. Her mother and her were next, and then Sarah and Simon. Organ music drifted through the open door of the chapel; there was a brief pause, and the music rose a tone, signalling their entrance. Their procession began to move slowly forwards. Mandy looked at the coffin riding high in front, her eyes welled and her fingers closed around the tissue in her pocket.