The Girl in the Mirror

Five

As her father returned from the cloakroom Mandy said she would go. ‘It’s down the hall to the right,’ he said, pointing to the front of the house. ‘And your aunt said lunch is about to be served in the dining room. Apparently they always have lunch at this time,’ he added, ‘while Dad sleeps.’

‘OK, I’ll join you there,’ she said and left the study.

Mandy knew exactly where the cloakroom was without her father giving directions. It was reassuring that she remembered, but hardly surprising, given the number of times she must have used the downstairs toilet when she’d stayed as a child. Down to the end of the hall, turn right, and she knew the door marked ‘Cloakroom’ would be set in a recess on her left. It was a large room, she remembered, far larger that their toilet downstairs at home. In addition to the loo and washbasin, there had been a dressing table and matching chair, and another recess like a walk-in wardrobe where the coats and outdoor shoes were stored.

Eyes down, deep in thought, and concentrating on the pattern of the inlaid wooden floor, Mandy turned the corner. She stopped with a small cry of alarm. ‘I’m sorry,’ she exclaimed, flustered. ‘Sorry, I didn’t see you.’ She took a step back and looked at the man she’d just walked into. He was smiling at her, finding it amusing.

‘Hello, Mandy,’ he said, in a voice that she’d not heard for a long time. ‘Good to see you again. How are you?’

She looked at him, heard his voice and then her silence, and knew he had heard her silence too – the hesitation before she recognized him. ‘Uncle John. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were in the house. Evelyn didn’t say.’

He laughed indulgently. ‘Didn’t she? I was having a lie-down upstairs. I was up all night with Grandpa. How are you?’

‘I’m fine,’ she said, embarrassed she’d not immediately remembered him. He’d been like a second father to her when she’d stayed as a child but he’d changed dramatically since she’d last seen him and was nothing like the man in the one photo she had of him – playing with her and Sarah on the swings. He was obviously ten years older, but he’d put on weight and his face seemed wider, more jowly. What was left of his previous black hair was now grey. Only his voice had remained more or less the same.

‘You’re looking good, Mandy,’ he said, flashing the smile she remembered from her childhood. ‘I’d have recognized you anywhere.’

‘Thanks,’ she said, still embarrassed. ‘And you.’

He laughed. ‘I don’t think so but it’s nice of you to say so.’ His eyes held her until, uncomfortable, she looked away. ‘Anyway, it’s good to see you again,’ he said. ‘I understand lunch is ready.’

‘Yes, I’ll be there shortly.’ She stepped past him and into the cloakroom.

Closing the door behind her, Mandy slid the bolt. She leant with her back against the door, her heart pounding and thoughts racing. It had been a shock bumping into Uncle John like that – not only the suddenness of coming round the corner and walking straight into him, but actually seeing him again. Why hadn’t Evelyn said he was in the house – warned her? Perhaps it had slipped her mind, but then again there was no reason for Evelyn to warn her – she didn’t know there was anything to warn her about. Only Sarah had known, and she wouldn’t have told her mother. It was their secret, just theirs; they had sworn on their lives. For in the instant Mandy had recognized John she’d also remembered the crush she’d had on him. Going on thirteen and at the onset of puberty, she’d confided her crush in Sarah, who then admitted to having a crush on her uncle – Mandy’s father. They’d been convinced they were the only ones to have these feelings for older men and that if anyone had discovered they found their uncles attractive they would have been locked up and ostracized for good.

Mandy leant with her back against the cloakroom door. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. John, middle-aged, overweight and balding, once the object of her desire! How could she? How could she and Sarah? It seemed ludicrous now. But there was something else – something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, that was making her legs tremble and heart pound. Something that lurked in the shadows of her mind, another, separate reason for her panic. Something that challenged her explanation that it was the shock of bumping into John and remembering her crush that had made her so uncomfortable and embarrassed. Half remembered and then forgotten, a feeling rather than a thought, similar to when she’d first seen the house: as though she had something to be frightened of but couldn’t remember what.

Heaving herself away from the door Mandy crossed to the washbasin and turned on the tap. She splashed cold water over her burning cheeks and then patted her face dry on the hand-towel. The cloakroom looked different from how she’d remembered it – possibly the colour scheme had changed, for the dressing table and chair seemed the same, as did the door to the walk-in wardrobe. Perhaps it was the passage of time and the fact she was now taller that made the room look different? With a small sigh, she reined in her thoughts, used the toilet and then rinsed her hands. She checked her face in the mirror and left the cloakroom.

In the hall the chink of cutlery and china could be heard coming from the dining room at the end of the hall, but there was no conversation.

‘It’s a buffet, help yourself,’ Evelyn said cheerily as Mandy entered the dining room. Evelyn was seated at the far side of the long oak dining table which was covered with platters and serving bowls of food. ‘Mrs Saunders will get you something to drink.’

‘Just water, please,’ Mandy said to the housekeeper, who was waiting by the sideboard, and sat in the chair left vacant next to her father.

She was on the opposite side of the table to Evelyn and Gran, with John to her right at the head of the table. She kept her gaze away from John. So too did her father, she thought. He was concentrating on the table just in front of his plate, looking most uncomfortable. It seemed ridiculously formal for lunch, and the atmosphere was strained with them all together. Mandy looked at the array of cold meats, new potatoes, quiches and salads, and regretted agreeing to lunch; a sandwich on their laps would have been far more appropriate.

‘Quite a spread, isn’t it?’ Gran said dryly, glancing at her from across the table. ‘I told Evelyn not to go to so much trouble.’

‘We have to eat, Mum,’ Evelyn chided. ‘And it’s no trouble. Help yourself, Mandy.’

Mandy smiled and accepted the platter of quiche Evelyn passed to her. Using one of the silver servers she carefully cut a slice and placed it in the centre of her large gleaming white plate, hoping it would fill up space. Mrs Saunders brought her a glass of water and then moved a salad bowl to within reach. ‘Thank you,’ Mandy said, and without much enthusiasm took a helping of green salad. She rarely ate much so early in the day; it was only 12.15, and despite not having had breakfast she wasn’t hungry. The formality of the setting – upright on their high-back dining chairs and Mrs Saunders hovering ready to assist – certainly didn’t help. Indeed it seemed somewhat bizarre, almost grotesque, she thought, that as Grandpa lay desperately ill and barely able to sip water two rooms away they were in here facing a feast. Mandy took a couple of mouthfuls of quiche, drank some water, and then began toying with the salad.

‘Leave it if you don’t want it,’ John suddenly said, making her start. ‘You don’t have to eat it here.’

She looked up and felt her cheeks burn, then glanced at Evelyn. ‘Sorry, I’m really not very hungry.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Evelyn said with a tight smile. ‘I’ll have Mrs Saunders pack you sandwiches for your return journey.’

But John’s words had taken Mandy back to her childhood, and one of the first times she’d stayed with Sarah. She remembered she’d sat self-consciously at this very table and toyed with some food she hadn’t liked, overwhelmed by the formality of their dining. ‘Leave it, Mandy,’ John had said. ‘You don’t have to eat it here.’ And she remembered the absolute relief she’d felt, for at home her mother had always insisted on a clean plate.

‘Sorry,’ she said again to Evelyn, setting her knife and fork on her plate. Then she sat with her hands in her lap as they continued eating, not liking to make her excuses but wondering when she could reasonably leave.

Evelyn seemed happy to be at the table, making conversation, perhaps as a diversion from the sick room, Mandy thought, although her talk was mainly about Grandpa: the appalling state of the hospital she’d rescued him from; the doctor who’d been in charge of his case and whom they’d only seen once; and nursing him at home. ‘John and I have been operating a rota,’ Evelyn said, glancing at her husband. ‘John sat with Dad last night so it’ll be my turn tonight. Unfortunately I still have to wake John as I can’t lift Dad by myself.’

‘Why do you have to lift Dad?’ her father asked naively, speaking for the first time.

‘To get him on to the commode,’ Evelyn said.

“Oh.’

‘Although Dad’s lost a lot of weight, he’s still very heavy. I have to be careful of my back.’

Mandy saw her father shift uncomfortably, but he couldn’t have known what Evelyn had meant.

‘It works all right,’ John said amicably. ‘I nap when I can during the day. I would rather Evelyn left all the nights to me, so she gets some sleep.’

‘Your business is managing without you?’ her father asked, changing the conversation.

‘Yes, I have a good team. I’ve briefed them on the situation here, and they phone if there’s a problem. I work on my laptop – emails, etc., while Dad sleeps.’

Her father nodded, and Mandy felt a stab of guilt. While John had rearranged his work, house and routine so that he and Evelyn could nurse Grandpa, she and her father had done nothing other than visit, and her mother was conspicuous by her absence. In their defence, Mandy thought, her parents hadn’t appreciated the seriousness of Grandpa’s condition or the practical implications of nursing him.

‘Dad and I could look after Grandpa this afternoon,’ Mandy offered, ‘while you and Evelyn go out or get some rest.’

‘Yes,’ her father readily agreed. ‘We can hold the fort.’

‘Thanks,’ John said. ‘We might take you up on that if you don’t have to rush off.’

‘No, not at all,’ her father said convivially. ‘I’ll call Jean and tell her to expect me later.’

Mandy looked at Evelyn and hesitated. ‘Is Sarah around?’

‘She visited yesterday, with her partner – they live in the town. Sarah finds it too upsetting seeing Grandpa like this. She can’t really offer much help. She’s worried she’ll remember Grandpa as he is now, rather than as he was when he was well. I’m sure she’ll visit again later in the week.’

Mandy nodded. ‘I understand.’ For she was already finding that the image of Grandpa today as he was now, sick and emaciated, was starting to impose itself upon the memory from when she’d last seen him, fit and healthy.

‘I’ve finished,’ Gran said, dabbing her lips with the linen napkin. ‘I’ll go to Will. He shouldn’t be left alone for too long.’ She turned in her seat, ready to stand, and was drawing her walking frame towards her when a crash came from the study followed by a piercing scream of pain. ‘I knew it!’ she said, panic-stricken. ‘I just knew he wanted something.’

Six

Immediately they were all on their feet, rushing out of the dining room. John went first; Mandy followed with her father while Evelyn held back to help Gran. Arriving in the study they found Grandpa on the floor beside the bed, having fallen trying to get out. He was on his side with one leg splayed behind the other. His eyes were half open and he was struggling to sit up, confused. John and her father went to him as Mandy hovered anxiously behind them. ‘Does anything hurt, Dad?’ John asked.

Grandpa shook his head and tried to sit up again.

‘Let’s get you back to bed,’ John said. He turned to her father. ‘I don’t think anything is broken.’

Mandy stood by the bed as her father and uncle, one either side of Grandpa, eased him into a sitting position. He let out a small moan and tried to say something.

‘Sorry, Dad?’ John said, lowering his ear. ‘You’ve fallen. Ray’s here. We’ll get you back into bed.’

Grandpa shook his head and whispered something.

‘OK, Dad. Hold on a minute.’ Then to Mandy: ‘Can you take the top off the commode?’

Mandy looked round for the commode.

‘It’s that chair,’ Evelyn said, pointing, having just come in with Gran. ‘The top comes off.’

Mandy went to the chair and began grappling with the vinyl-covered seat, not knowing if it lifted or rose on a hinge.

‘Give it a good pull,’ John said, an edge of impatience creeping into his voice. ‘The whole seat lifts off.’ To Grandpa he added: ‘Hold on, Dad, nearly there.’

She yanked the seat and it came off in her hand, revealing a white plastic toilet seat with a bowl suspended below.

‘Bring it closer, will you?’ John demanded.

She dragged the commode to just in front of Grandpa. He was still in a sitting position on the floor, supported either side by John and her father.

‘On the count of three,’ John said to her father. ‘We need to lift him and then swing him sideways and down, on to the seat.’

Mandy saw anxiety flash across her father’s face. John knew what he was doing but neither her father nor she did.

‘One…two…three,’ John said, and they began to lift.

Mandy watched with dismay as they lifted Grandpa on to his feet and then manoeuvred him round and down on to the commode like a large rag doll. The second before his bottom touched the seat, John pulled down his pyjama trousers. Mandy looked away. It was pathetic and demeaning: her tall, strong, proud Grandpa who, until a couple of weeks ago, had kept fit by swimming every week, now slumped on the commode, with his eyes half open and pyjama trousers round his knees. He looked like a giant toddler on a potty.

There was quiet as her father and John waited either side of Grandpa. She waited with Evelyn and Gran at the foot of the bed, all of them averting their eyes. Then the silence was broken by the trickle of water as Grandpa began to relieve himself. Her father fled the room. Gran turned her walking frame and followed him out, while Evelyn, focusing on the practical, went to Grandpa’s empty bed and began stripping the sheets. ‘He needs clean ones,’ she said matter-of-factly.

‘And pyjama trousers,’ John added. ‘But his top is dry.’

Mandy watched in awe as John steadied Grandpa with one hand and, kneeling down, began trying to ease off the wet pyjama trousers with the other. Realizing she could finally do something to help, she went to where her father had stood, just behind Grandpa, and placed her hands on his shoulders to support him.

‘Thanks, Mandy,’ John said. With both hands free he was able to slide off the wet trousers, which he passed to Evelyn. Grandpa relaxed back on the commode.

‘I’ll check your dad is all right when I’ve put this in the wash,’ Evelyn said to Mandy. ‘It’s a lot for him to cope with – seeing his father like this.’

‘It’s a lot for you to cope with too,’ Mandy said.

Evelyn met her gaze and in that look Mandy saw not a grown woman in control, but a small girl who was struggling to cope as best she could with her dying father, and wasn’t really coping at all.

‘Yes,’ Evelyn said quietly. ‘It is.’ Her face crumpled, and as she hurried from the room Mandy saw she was silently weeping.

Mandy stayed by Grandpa, a reassuring hand resting on each of his shoulders, and waited. By standing behind him, at least she was preserving some of his modesty she thought, but it was a pathetically small amount given what he’d lost. John finished straightening the mattress protector on the bed ready for the clean sheet and then came over and lowered his mouth to Grandpa’s ear. ‘Dad, have you finished?’ he asked gently.

Grandpa moaned.

‘Dad, have you finished on the commode?’ he tried again patiently.

‘Yes,’ her grandpa said.

‘OK, hang on there. Evelyn is fetching some clean pyjamas, then we’ll get you back into bed.’

When Evelyn returned with the clean sheets and pyjama trousers she and John fell into what Mandy guessed was a well-practised routine. Evelyn passed the trousers to John and he began easing Grandpa’s feet into them while she made up the bed. Mandy remained where she was. She could feel the warmth of his body through the material of his pyjama jacket; could smell the soap that had been used to wash him – different from the one he usually used. He was so quiet and still as they worked she couldn’t tell if he was awake or dozing. She kept her gaze directed into the centre of the room and tried to picture Grandpa as he used to be.

‘OK, Dad,’ John said. ‘On the count of three we’ll get you to stand. Can you help, Mandy?’

Moving her hands from Grandpa’s shoulders, she placed them under his left arm and helped raise him off the commode and into a standing position. As they did, Evelyn quickly pulled up his pyjamas and the three of them then eased Grandpa into bed and on to the pillows. How John and Evelyn had coped alone for nearly a week Mandy had no idea.

‘All right, Dad?’ Evelyn asked as Grandpa lay back on the pillow. She tenderly stroked his forehead.

He groaned slightly and then gave a small nod.

‘Good man,’ John said. ‘I bet you’re exhausted after that. Try and get some sleep.’

Mandy was touched by the dignity John and Evelyn gave Grandpa as well as their ability to actually nurse him. Neither of them had had any nursing experience as far as she knew, but both seemed to know how to manoeuvre him in a way that caused minimum discomfort. Their efficiency seemed to highlight her father’s inefficiency and his inability to cope. Since arriving he’d hardly been in the same room as his father, and although she appreciated why, it didn’t help. ‘I’ll go and find Dad,’ she said.

Evelyn nodded. ‘He’s in the morning room with Gran.’

Outside the study, Mandy turned left, instinctively aware she would find the morning room at the end of the hall. It was strange: she seemed to know the layout of the downstairs of the house without any conscious recollection of being in the rooms. Mrs Saunders came towards her, on her way to the kitchen, carrying a tray of plates from lunch. ‘Miss,’ she said, acknowledging her and smiling as they passed. Mandy thought how odd it must be, having someone other than family in the house, but then again Mrs Saunders appeared so well integrated she was like a family member.

The door to the morning room was slightly ajar. As Mandy approached she could hear her father and Gran talking quietly, in the middle of a conversation.

‘I’m not saying anything to her,’ her father said. ‘Not now.’

Mandy heard Gran tut, then: ‘It’s your decision, obviously, Ray, but now seems a very good time to me.’ And although the ‘her’ could have applied to her aunt or even her mother Jean, Mandy had the distinct impression they were talking about her, an impression confirmed when they both fell silent and looked at her as she entered.

‘Dad,’ Mandy said, hovering just inside the door. ‘Grandpa will be asleep again soon; I really think you should see him.’

‘Yes,’ Gran agreed, pulling the walking frame towards her, ready to stand. ‘I like to be with him as much as I can, while I have the chance. John put a bed in the study for me, but I can’t sleep, he’s so restless at night. I think they’re moving me upstairs. I hope Will understands.’

‘I’m sure he does,’ Mandy’s father reassured her, falling into step at her side.

It was nearly 2 p.m. as they settled themselves in the study-cum-sick room, Mandy in one of the pair of leather armchairs at the end of the room and her father and Gran by Grandpa’s bed. John and Evelyn had taken up the offer of a break and were in the sitting room trying to have a nap. It seemed most of the day was spent sitting and watching Grandpa sleep; Gran said she sat with him all day and Evelyn and John joined her as and when they could. But although Grandpa’s eyes were closed and he appeared to be asleep, he was very restless, and became more so as the afternoon wore on. He called out and sometimes groaned as though in pain, which was not only disturbing for him but upsetting to witness.

Mandy saw her father grow more and more anxious as he watched his mother trying without success to soothe his father. ‘It’s the medication wearing off,’ Gran said at last. ‘It seems to be lasting less and less time, and the nurse isn’t due until three.’

‘Can’t Dad have more tablets before the nurse comes?’ her father asked.

‘He can’t swallow tablets any more,’ Gran said, ‘even when they’re crushed. We’ve tried the liquid the doctor prescribed but that didn’t do any good. The nurse gives him injections now, every four hours. It’s morphine, I think. That helps for a while, but he needs more. John said he’d speak to the nurse this afternoon.’

The next hour was the worst Mandy had ever experienced in her entire life, she thought, as the morphine gradually wore off and Grandpa became in increasing pain. To begin with they left Evelyn and John having a rest, but as Grandpa’s discomfort grew and their efforts to soothe him became less and less effective, her father fetched them from the sitting room. ‘I’ll call the nurse,’ John said when he saw Grandpa, and went to the phone on the desk.

Mandy stood anxiously with her father and Evelyn by the bed and tried to soothe Grandpa. But he tossed and turned, and cried out, shouting words that made no sense at all. Evelyn spoke to him in a calming voice, stroked his forehead and tried to reassure him, but her efforts were pathetic and futile in the face of his pain. Then he began clawing at his arms as though his skin was on fire. Mandy’s father tried to stop him by holding his hands, which made him even more agitated, and he swore.

‘He doesn’t know what he’s saying,’ Gran excused. ‘He’s delirious, he doesn’t mean it.’

‘The nurse won’t be long,’ John said, hovering by the phone.