by Cathy Glass
Mandy didn’t think Evelyn would be pleased if she knew someone thought she might be ‘feeling her age’, for she’d said more than once that the fifties were the new thirties and age was only ‘a state of mind’. Neither did Mandy think the walk was the reason Evelyn no longer patronized the store, not from the abruptness of Evelyn’s ‘I don’t use that store’ and the way Mrs Pryce had gone quiet on being reminded of the time she’d left Evelyn’s service. ‘Why did Mrs Pryce leave?’ Mandy asked after a moment. ‘Do you know?’
There was a short pause, perhaps a small hesitation, before Gran replied. ‘Not sure, love, although I could guess.’ Mandy waited for her to continue, but she didn’t.
‘Why do you think she left?’ Mandy persisted, concentrating on the road ahead.
‘Because it would have been very difficult for her to have stayed,’ Gran said matter-of-factly. ‘What reason have John and Evelyn given for Mrs Pryce leaving?’
This was like playing conundrums, Mandy thought, all of them referring to each other for explanation. ‘John said she just wanted a change.’
‘Well then,’ Gran said.
Well then, nothing, Mandy thought. Either she was becoming paranoid and seeing conspiracy everywhere or Gran was being deliberately obtuse and not telling her something. If she dropped the subject now it would be more difficult to pick up again later and she might not get another opportunity. Gran usually appreciated directness so Mandy decided to take the bull by the horns. ‘Mrs Pryce left at the same time I stopped coming to visit Sarah,’ she said. ‘Was that coincidence or were the two connected?’
‘Probably connected,’ Gran said, now looking straight ahead.
‘How?’
There was another short pause before Gran replied, a little tersely: ‘You will need to ask your father that.’
‘Dad?’ Mandy glanced at her, puzzled. ‘I don’t understand. Why should he know about Mrs Pryce leaving?’
Gran met her gaze, her expression serious yet doubting. Mandy returned her attention to the road and heard Gran say quite sternly: ‘Do you really not remember, Mandy? Or is it that you don’t want to?’
Mandy felt her heart start to race as a now familiar sense of unease began to descend. ‘Remember what?’ she said. ‘Mrs Pryce leaving?’
‘No. The day you left Evelyn’s for the last time. The reason your visits stopped and the two families never spoke again.’
Mandy’s fingers tightened around the wheel as she searched the crevices of her mind for some long-forgotten clue, some hint of what she was being challenged to remember. ‘No. Until I came here three days ago, I wasn’t even aware there was anything to remember.’
Gran said nothing. There was silence. When Mandy spoke again her voice sounded strained and uneven. ‘Gran, Mum and Dad have never spoken of the day I left. But since I’ve come back I’ve been having strange thoughts and dreams, and seeing things. I don’t know how they link, but I’m usually thirteen years old. What happened, Gran? Did I do something dreadful? Is that why I wasn’t allowed to visit Sarah any more? For it seemed quite possible she had done something terrible that had stopped her visits and no one dared speak of.
She glanced at Gran and, just for a second, Mandy thought she was going to tell her something, but then her face stilled again. ‘It wasn’t exactly your fault,’ she said slowly, ‘although you were involved. I can’t tell you, Mandy. I’m not allowed to. You’ll need to speak to your father. He was the one who stopped your visits and forbade us to talk about it. He thought it was for your own good, but I was never sure.’ She turned her head and looked out of the side window again, signalling the matter was closed.
Mandy stared at the road ahead while her thoughts somersaulted. So there was something, something very bad by the sound of it, and she had been involved. She searched her mind again for anything that would allow her into the past, but there was nothing beyond the unsettling flashbacks – if that’s what they were – which had plagued her since entering the house. She glanced at Gran, who was still resolutely looking out of the window, and knew it would be unfair to press her further.
Five minutes later she pulled on to the drive of Gran’s bungalow and cut the engine.
Fifteen
Inside, the bungalow was exactly as Mandy had last seen it when she’d visited before Grandpa had been taken into hospital, but without her grandparents it had lost its welcoming warmth. Uninhabited for nearly three weeks, it already had that shut-up smell.
‘I’ll get what I need from the bedroom,’ Gran said. ‘I won’t be long.’
‘Do you want some help?’ Mandy asked as Gran made her way down the hall towards the main bedroom at the rear.
‘No, sit yourself down in the lounge. I can manage.’ Mandy thought she probably preferred to do it alone, appreciating the small independence after being waited on at Evelyn’s.
Going into the lounge, Mandy sat in the armchair she usually sat in when she visited and gazed around the room. The dated furniture, heavy velvet curtains and knick-knacks arranged along the mantelpiece, which had helped create that feeling of cosiness and security, now seemed faded and worn. A folded newspaper lay on Grandpa’s chair as though he had just put it down for a minute and would shortly return and continue reading. Then as she directed her gaze over to the coffee table she saw his flat cap: the tweed cap he always wore and had done for as long as she could remember – in winter to keep him warm and in summer to protect the top of his head from the sun. He never went anywhere without his cap and not having it with him now seemed to underline just how ill he was. On impulse she reached over and picked it up; she would take it with her. Even though he didn’t need it and it was unlikely he would ever wear it again he should still have it with him.
A few minutes passed and then Gran called from the bedroom: ‘Mandy, can you give me a hand, love?’
She stood and went into the bedroom. Gran was by the bed with one hand on her walking frame, struggling to get some clothes into a zip holdall with the other.
‘Here, let me,’ Mandy said, going over.
Laying the cap on the bed she began packing the clothes Gran had laid out: two dresses, some of her underwear and a fresh nightdress; Grandpa’s pyjamas, his socks, underwear, a pair of trousers and a shirt, although it was doubtful he’d ever need them. Lastly, Mandy laid the cap carefully on top of the other clothes in the case. ‘Is that everything?’ she asked.
Gran nodded. ‘Let’s go,’ she said quietly.
Mandy saw her face and knew how difficult it was for her being here without Grandpa. Closing the case, Mandy took it off the bed and with the case in one hand she linked Gran’s arm with the other and they crossed to the door. In the hall Gran gave a quick glance around and then led the way out, in no hurry to stay. She locked the front door and then asked Mandy to check it. ‘Will usually does it,’ she said.
‘It’s fine,’ Mandy said, pushing her shoulder against it.
She helped Gran into the car, and then stowed the walking frame and case in the boot. Climbing in, she paused before starting the engine. She looked at Gran, who was staring through the windscreen deep in thought. ‘All right?’ she asked gently, touching her arm.
Gran nodded.
‘We can come again another day if you need anything else.’
‘Thanks, love. But I can’t imagine Will’s going to be needing much more.’ She smiled sadly.
‘Is there anywhere else you need to go?’
‘No thanks, love. Best be getting back.’ She threw Mandy the same sad smile, and then folded her hands in her lap, resigned and accepting.
Mandy started the engine and reversed off the drive. They were quiet, then Gran began to nod off. Mandy thought of the conversation they’d had on the way to the bungalow and immediately felt her pulse quicken. What was it Gran seemed to think she should be able to remember? What was it about Evelyn’s house and the people in it that had stopped her visits? Clearly Gran thought she should know and had even suggested she was de
liberately not remembering: Do you really not remember, Mandy? Or is it that you don’t want to? In the past she’d counted on Gran for her honest opinion. Why wasn’t she being honest now?
Mandy came to with a jolt, braking as the red lights of the car in front suddenly loomed. Gran woke too. ‘Sorry,’ Mandy said, ‘he stopped a bit quickly.’
She kept her concentration fully on the road for the rest of the journey. When they arrived Evelyn greeted them in the hall and said lunch was ready.
‘Lunch!’ Gran exclaimed. ‘We’ve only just had breakfast.’ But she dutifully followed Evelyn into the morning room where the table was laid with quiche and salad.
Mandy ate very little, partly because she too felt she’d only just had breakfast, but mainly because she was still unsettled by the conversation she’d had with Gran. A conspiracy seemed to be building around her, a conspiracy of silence which stretched back ten years. As soon as was reasonable she asked to be excused and said if she wasn’t needed she would go to her room for half an hour. ‘Good idea,’ Evelyn said. ‘Get some rest while you can.’
But it wasn’t rest she needed; she needed to be alone to try to make sense of the tangle of thoughts that was writhing in her head. Going into the bedroom she kicked off her shoes and flopped on the bed. It was only 1.30 p.m. but she felt utterly exhausted – and not only from lack of sleep. She was emotionally drained.
Resting her head on the headboard Mandy lay back and stared at the ceiling, willing herself to think back and remember. She tried to visualize herself in the house and garden as she might have been on one of her many visits. In the sitting room, morning room, the conservatory-cum-playroom – what was she doing? She knew from John’s photographs that she’d played in the garden under the sprinkler, but could she remember actually being there and doing it? She wasn’t sure. But she was sure she’d been in the cloakroom in tears, and also that she’d been driven away from the house in the back of her father’s car, distraught. If and how the two incidents were connected, she didn’t know. And these were isolated and limited recollections – snapshots from the album of her past which should have been overflowing with memories from all the times she’d stayed with Sarah. The rest was blank.
‘Why did Father stop all contact and then forbid everyone to talk about it?’ she said out loud as though that might prompt an answer. It must have been something dreadful. Gran’s comment – It wasn’t exactly your fault, although you were involved – suggested she was an accomplice, and therefore partly to blame. Was Sarah the other perpetrator in the unspeakable, unknown crime? It was possible. If so, what could they have done that had led to her being banished from the house? Stolen from the village store? Set fire to something? Drunk wine from the cellar? Or had their pre-pubescent crushes on their respective uncles been discovered? Mandy shuddered at the possibility, yet surely none of these was severe enough for her father to stop all contact between the two families for ever?
‘Shit!’ she said, clenching her fists. ‘Someone needs to tell me what I’ve done!’ It crossed her mind to go downstairs now and demand an explanation. But how could she make a scene and risk upsetting everyone with Grandpa so ill? She remained propped on the bed, frustrated and angry at her inability to remember. Then, just for a second, through the fog of time, she thought she heard her father shouting at Evelyn, as she and Sarah cried openly. Then it vanished.
A tear escaped and ran down her cheek, and another and another. She wept for Grandpa, his pain and suffering, and the loss of their once open and honest relationship. It was inconceivable everyone knew apart from her, especially her beloved grandparents, with whom she thought she’d shared almost everything. Now they too were part of the conspiracy of silence, which her dear grandpa would take to his grave.
Sixteen
Half an hour later Mandy dried her eyes, heaved herself from the bed and pushed her feet into her slippers. If she was staying to help she needed to get a grip and be of some use, otherwise she might as well go home. Putting on a face to mask feelings seemed to run in the family and she was sure she could do it just as well as anyone else. There would be time later to consider the past; now she needed to simply get on with it and help. Smoothing her hair flat, she checked her face in the dressingtable mirror and then returned downstairs.
Evelyn was coming out of the study with the urine bottle. ‘I’m just going to empty this,’ she said. Mandy nodded. ‘Sarah phoned while you were asleep. She and her partner, Simon, are visiting tomorrow.’
‘That will be nice,’ Mandy said, ‘I’ll look forward to it,’ and returned to the study. It was nearly 2 p.m.
Gran was in her usual chair beside the bed. Someone had unpacked Grandpa’s flat cap and it now lay on the coffee table next to his glasses as though at any moment he might step from the bed and put them on. She sat in one of the armchairs and gazed across the room towards the bed and the chair where Gran sat holding Grandpa’s hand. All that could be heard for some time was Grandpa’s breath, then Gran began to doze. Mandy checked her phone and then listened to her iPod. Ten minutes later Evelyn returned with the empty urine bottle and tucked it beside the bed. Gran stirred and Evelyn said she was ‘seeing to the arrangements for our guests’: Sarah and Simon on Friday, and Mandy’s parents on Sunday.
As the afternoon passed Mandy felt a rising sense of occasion. Evelyn looked in regularly to check they were all right and give updates on what she was doing to prepare for the guests: she was having Mrs Saunders give the house an extra clean and polish; she was trying to decide on the menus – did her parents like rainbow trout? She’d have to go into the town rather than order online, and so on and so on. Mandy took her earphones out each time Evelyn came into the study and Gran woke and smiled and nodded politely. ‘She’s a great one for entertaining,’ Gran commented dryly after one visit.
Presently Evelyn reappeared looking concerned. ‘Are you certain your parents like rainbow trout?’
‘I’m certain they do,’ Mandy said. ‘But please don’t go to any trouble.’
‘No trouble. We’ll have the trout with new potatoes and French runner beans on Sunday when your parents come, and the lamb tomorrow when Simon and Sarah visit.’
‘I’m sure that’ll be lovely,’ Mandy assured her.
Without doubt all Evelyn’s preparations were a distraction from what was really going on, Mandy thought, and she hoped her parents could be persuaded to stay for lunch or dinner, or whichever meal the trout was for, otherwise Evelyn would be sorely disappointed, and the tenuous relationship her aunt had with her parents would be strained even further.
After Evelyn’s last visit worrying about the trout Gran gave up trying to doze and stayed awake. Mandy put aside her iPod and took out her sketch pad. She drew a large picture of a trout with its mouth turned down in a sulk. She headed the sketch Trout with a Pout and showed it to Gran, who laughed out loud. No matter how upset you were you couldn’t be sad all the time, Mandy thought, it simply wasn’t possible.
Grandpa’s pain always seemed more manageable during the day, but then during the day the nurse came every four hours to give him a morphine injection, compared to the one at 10 p.m., which, with the sleeping draught, was supposed to see him through the night. When the nurse made his 6 p.m. visit they remained in the study and the nurse said Mr Edwards’s pulse was noticeably weaker in his neck. Gran and John nodded stoically as though they knew what this meant and had been half expecting it, but Mandy didn’t know and thought it sounded bad.
‘My parents aren’t coming again until Sunday,’ she said anxiously to the nurse. ‘Should I tell them to come sooner?’
The nurse looked up from Grandpa and smiled kindly. ‘I don’t think there’s any immediate concern. I’m sure Sunday will be fine. Your grandpa could stay the same for many days, but not weeks. I’ll check again when I settle him for the night.’
When the nurse returned at 10 p.m., after Gran and Evelyn had gone to bed, he took Grandpa’s pulse and said he was ‘holding his
own’ and his pulse hadn’t weakened further, which seemed good news. After this 10 p.m. injection Grandpa slept reasonably peacefully until just after 2 a.m., when he awoke with a start and cried out. Mandy was already awake, with her iPod on low, and went straight to the bed, followed by John. John took his shoulders and she took Grandpa’s hands and together they tried to soothe him. But it had no effect and he grew delirious. ‘Get it off me!’ he cried, trying to knock something off his chest. Then, squinting towards the curtains: ‘Close the windows! They’re getting in!’
’The windows are closed,’ John reassured him. ‘Nothing can get in.’
Mandy tried to hold Grandpa’s hands to stop him from hitting his chest while John soothed his forehead, but he kept pulling away. And while Mandy wouldn’t have admitted it she was slightly spooked by Grandpa’s insistence that ‘they’ were getting in, for the threat seemed real. She glanced around the room at the shadows in the corners and then put the main light on. ‘He hasn’t got a temperature,’ John said, feeling his forehead. ‘It’s probably all the morphine making him see things.’
With the main light on Grandpa gradually began to calm down as though the light had banished the demons. The hallucinations stopped and he lay back on the pillows, exhausted, and slowly drifted into unconsciousness. They’d just returned to their chairs when he called out again; they were immediately by his bed. The pain was as bad as the previous night now and although John massaged his shoulders and Mandy stroked his head, all the time talking and trying to calm him, it had no effect. Then his eyes suddenly shot open and he stared up at John. ‘End it now,’ he gasped between breaths. ‘You promised. I’ve had enough.’
Mandy looked at John, who’d visibly paled. He took his hands from Grandpa’s shoulders and crossed to the phone on the desk. ‘Sorry, Dad, I can’t. I’ll call the nurse.’ Grandpa groaned.
