Читать книгу The Girl in the Mirror - Cathy Glass, Cathy Glass - Страница 13

Mandy stayed where she was, staring at the now empty drive. The air was still and the door to the house stood open behind her. Her heart was racing and her mouth was dry. It must have been a trick of the eye, she said, trying to calm herself, an illusion in the twilight. Of course there wasn’t a girl in the back of your father’s car. Don’t be ridiculous. You’re worried about Grandpa, and tired – it was nothing more than your imagination.

So, as a child accepts its mother’s reassurance that there is nothing lurking under the bed while not wholly convinced, Mandy turned from the drive and went into the welcoming warmth and light of her aunt’s house.

‘How would you feel about staying up with me tonight?’ John asked as she entered the study. He was in one of the pair of leather armchairs with his laptop open on his knees; Gran was in her usual chair by the bed. ‘Evelyn could do with a night’s sleep,’ he added.

‘Yes,’ Mandy said, and sat in the chair next to Gran at the side of the bed.

‘Only if you want to,’ John said. ‘You don’t have to. There’s a bed ready upstairs otherwise.’

‘No, it’s fine, really,’ she reassured him, and looked at Grandpa. Now the medicine had taken effect and he was sleeping comfortably, she could enjoy her time with him; they all could. One of his hands jutted from beneath the bedclothes and Gran was stroking it tenderly. ‘Was your dad all right?’ she asked after a moment.

Mandy nodded. ‘He’s going to text when he gets home. Oh,’ she said, suddenly realizing, ‘I’ve forgotten to tell Adam where I am.’

‘Best phone him now,’ Gran smiled. She’d met Adam many times and liked him.

Mandy stood, retrieved her handbag from where she’d dumped it in the corner of the study and took out her mobile. There were five texts: two from Adam as well as a missed call from him. ‘I won’t be long,’ she said, and left the study.

Going a little way along the hall, she pressed Adam’s number and he answered immediately. ‘Are you OK, Mandy?’ he asked, concerned. ‘Wherever have you been?’

‘Sorry. I’ve had my phone on silent all day. I’m at my aunt’s in Cambridgeshire. Grandpa’s very ill.’ She then explained what had happened since her father had come to her flat early that morning. Adam sympathized; his pique of the night before had gone.

‘If there is anything I can do, promise me you’ll phone,’ he said kindly. ‘I know what you’re going through.’ His own grandfather had died the year before.

‘Thanks,’ she said, touched by his sensitivity and reminded of what she stood to lose. ‘And sorry again about last night.’

‘No problem. Take care.’

When they’d finished the call she texted him: Luv u, which she knew she needed to start showing more as well as saying.

Returning to the study, Mandy sat next to Gran and replied to the other texts, from friends. She sent the same message to all three: Stayin at my aunts. grandpa ill. will fone on return. Leaving her mobile on silent, she dropped it into her bag and took out her iPod. Gran was dozing now and John was still working on his laptop. She plugged in her earpieces and gazed at Grandpa. He was still relatively peaceful. Occasionally his arm jerked, or a muscle twitched in his face, giving the impression he was frowning, but there was no sign of the shocking pain that had engulfed him during the afternoon. Perhaps the nurse had changed the medication, or given him a stronger dose of morphine? She hoped so, for as her father had said no one should have to suffer in this day and age. Her iPod was playing a Michael Jackson ballad, ‘Will You Be There’, and in the now calm atmosphere of the study with Grandpa sleeping peacefully, there was something almost perfect, almost ethereal in the love she felt for him, and she was so very pleased she’d stayed to help.

At 8.15 p.m. Gran was still dozing when Evelyn poked her head round the study door. ‘Mandy, I usually make Gran an Ovaltine drink at this time, before I help her get ready for bed. Would you like an Ovaltine?’

‘No thanks. Is it all right if I make myself a tea later?’

‘Of course. I’ll show you where everything is in the kitchen, just as soon as I’ve seen to Gran.’

Evelyn left the study and as the door closed Gran opened her eyes. ‘She thinks Ovaltine helps me sleep at night,’ she whispered conspiratorially, ’but I haven’t noticed any difference.’

‘You’ll be better tonight, upstairs,’ John said from the end of the study. Gran started, having forgotten he was there.

‘It’s very kind of Evelyn, though,’ Gran added quickly, looking guilty. Mandy smiled.

Evelyn reappeared ten minutes later with the hot drink. Gran sat by the bed with the cup cradled in the palms of her hands and slowly sipped it. At nine o’clock Evelyn returned, took away the cup and saucer, and then reappeared almost immediately.

‘Bedtime now,’ Gran said stoically to Mandy. ‘It takes me a while to get ready and I need some help.’

Mandy stood aside as Evelyn helped Gran to her feet and on to the walking frame.

‘If only I had your youth,’ Gran said to Mandy. ‘Goodnight, love. See you in the morning. And thanks for staying.’

Mandy gave her a hug and kissed her cheek. ‘Night, Gran.’ She watched as Gran slowly crossed the study with Evelyn following, ready to assist if necessary.

John closed his laptop and set it on the coffee table. ‘I’ll give them a hand getting upstairs. Are you all right here alone, Mandy? I won’t be long.’

‘Yes, of course.’

The three of them left the study in a small slow procession as Mandy sat again by the bed and looked at Grandpa. On his back, with his jaw gaping in sleep, the only sound was that of his laboured breathing. Longevity didn’t really have much to recommend it, she thought, if it reduced you to this. Yet she had to admit that her grandparents had gained something special from growing old together; they had a lifetime of shared experiences and mutual support to look back on and draw strength from. Growing old with a loved one, Mandy thought, was far better than growing old alone – old age didn’t seem quite so threatening if you had someone to share it with.

Twenty minutes later John returned to the study and said Gran was in bed. ‘Evelyn’s in the kitchen, so if you’d like to go through she’ll show you where everything is now.’ He said it with a cocked eyebrow in a slightly disparaging tone as though he thought Evelyn was fussing unnecessarily, but should be indulged. It was a collusion Mandy had noticed him attempt with her before and, as before, she ignored it.

‘Thanks,’ she said lightly, and left the study.

The kitchen was huge, nearly as big as her entire bedsitting room, and was clearly brand new. ‘We’ve had it refurbished,’ Evelyn said proudly, standing in front of the disarming array of oak cupboards and granite work surfaces, which shone in the concealed lighting and seemed to go on for ever.

‘It’s lovely,’ Mandy said admiringly.

Evelyn smiled, pleased, and began opening and closing the cupboard doors, showing her where things were kept. ‘Tea, coffee, drinking chocolate and sugar, etc.,’ she said, ‘are here. Mugs, glasses, cups, here. The fridge and freezer are in here, and the dishwasher is here.’ Everything was behind an oak door – even the oven. ‘Help yourself to whatever you want,’ she said. ‘If you fancy a sandwich, the bread is here, or cake and biscuits here.’

‘Thank you,’ Mandy said again.

‘And upstairs,’ Evelyn continued, ‘I’ve sorted out some overnight things to see you through until your dad returns tomorrow with your own. I’ve put them in one of the guest rooms, which will be your room. If you come up now, I’ll show you, then I’ll go to bed. Are you sure you’re all right to stay up tonight?’

‘Positive. I don’t need much sleep.’

Evelyn smiled. ‘No, I didn’t at your age either.’ She led the way out of the kitchen up the stairs.

Mandy found she remembered going up the stairs from when she’d stayed as a child. It was a huge winding staircase with a small landing halfway up, and so unlike her staircase at her parents’. There was a window on the landing with a windowsill that had always contained a vase of fresh flowers. The vase was still there but without the flowers. Mandy remembered the polished brass handrail which she and Sarah had been told off for using as a slide. At the top of the stairs she followed Evelyn into a bedroom at the rear of the house, overlooking the gardens. Neatly folded on the bed was a set of towels, face flannel, soap, toothbrush, toothpaste, nightdress and two pairs of new pants.

‘Thank you very much,’ Mandy said, impressed that Evelyn had produced this at such short notice.

‘Thank you, for staying. It’s much appreciated. I’ll sleep better knowing John has your help. But for goodness’ sake wake me if I’m needed.’

‘I will,’ Mandy said, and then hesitated. She glanced around at the magnolia-emulsioned walls and flowered duvet. ‘Evelyn, is this the room I used to sleep in when I stayed as a child?’

Evelyn looked at her, clearly shocked. ‘No. You had the Pink Room, at the front of the house. Don’t you remember?’

‘No, not really.’

‘But, Mandy, you stayed with us regularly. How can you not remember? You were always here – weekends and school holidays. You and Sarah were inseparable between the ages of four and twelve. You’d turned thirteen the last time you came.’ She stopped as though suddenly realizing something and looked at her oddly.

Mandy gave a small shrug. ‘I know,’ she said carefully. ‘But my memory is very bitty. I have vague recollections of being in the house but no detail. I guess ten years is a long time.’

Evelyn held her gaze and Mandy could see that not only did her aunt not know what to say, but that she wasn’t sure whether to believe her.

‘I suppose it is,’ Evelyn conceded after a moment. ‘Anyway the guest bathroom is next door.’ With a brief air-kiss she said goodnight and quickly left.

Mandy crossed to the curtains and, parting them, looked out. This room was at the rear of the house; Evelyn had said the Pink Room was at the front. Although it was pitch dark outside she could see the upper terraces subtly lit by small round sunken lights. This view was unfamiliar whereas the view from the Pink Room would presumably be familiar from when she’d stayed as a child. The Pink Room, Evelyn had said, expecting her to remember it, and the name almost rang a bell. Almost. Somewhere in the crevices of her mind Mandy thought she had stayed in that room. Possibly. But at thirteen of course she should have remembered, and in detail. No wonder Evelyn had looked at her oddly. But apart from a vague feeling that she’d heard the name before, she could recall nothing else about it. And in the backwater of her mind an unsettling premonition told her it was better it stayed that way.