by Cathy Glass
Eighteen
Outside, instead of being bundled into the back of her father’s car and being driven away in tears, as she thought she’d be, Mandy found herself running down the driveway and then turning right into the lane. She continued running along the path at the edge of the lane in the direction of the village; her only thought to get away. Get away from the house and everyone in it, for good. The air was chilly without a coat but Mandy didn’t feel the cold. She was hot – boiling hot, but not from running; it was fear that was making her sweat. Sarah knew, Simon knew, and they had even discussed it! But what? What had happened that everyone knew about, apart from her? What had made Mrs Pryce, Evelyn and Sarah stand in the hall and cry, and her father so angry that she’d been afraid of him? What had she done to upset them all – that had caused her father to drag her from the house, never to return? Suddenly she realized that whatever it was must be so awful that her father had decided it was better she didn’t know. That the wall of silence was there to protect her – from herself.
Out of breath, with fear gripping her, she was forced to slow to a walk. Her throat was dry and sore and her heart beat wildly. Dear God, whatever was it? Something so horrendous that not even her dear gran could bring herself to tell her. You’ll need to speak to your father. He was the one who stopped your visits and forbade us to talk about it.
The lane ran out and she crossed the main road and walked to the bus stop. Ten minutes later she was on a bus taking her to the station. From there she would catch a train into London and a tube home. Home: her bedsitting room that held no secrets and was safe and secure; where she could close the door and be alone. Where she was Mandy who had taken a year off work to paint and no one knew the dreadful secret of her past. Her heart stung at the thought of Gran and Grandpa whom she’d abandoned without even saying goodbye. She might never see her dear grandpa again. But the thought of the shame she’d brought upon them and the secret of her dirty past that they’d been forced to carry tore through her like a knife. She couldn’t stay in that house, not with everyone knowing.
At 3.20 Mandy boarded the train for Paddington and her phone began to ring. She took it from her bag; it was Evelyn’s landline number. Leaving the call to go through to her voicemail she switched the phone to silent and returned it to her bag. She chose a window seat in an empty part of the carriage. Resting her head back, she stared out at the platform. Her head was throbbing and her neck ached. She screwed her eyes shut at the thought of Simon telling Sarah what he’d said. She could hear Sarah’s response: It’s not your fault, Si. She’s obviously not over it yet. Over what? Mandy wanted to shout. Her phone vibrated in her bag and she ignored it. Two young children scrambled on to the seat opposite but were thankfully called to another seat by their mother. Mandy stared unseeing through the glass window. A moment later the doors closed and with a small shudder the train pulled away.
It was dusk by the time she turned the corner into her street, the last of the daylight being replaced by the street lamps flickering on. She was exhausted and longed only to climb into her bed and curl beneath the duvet. Her phone had been buzzing with missed calls throughout the journey and she’d ignored it. At some point she’d have to phone Evelyn and tell her she was OK, but not now. Not yet. She couldn’t face it.
Taking her keys from her bag, Mandy went down the short path between the untrimmed hedges and unlocked the front door. The slightly musty smell of the old under-heated house hit her, familiar and reassuring. She flicked on the hall light and climbed the stairs, praying she wouldn’t bump into another tenant and have to talk to them. Rounding the landing she saw a faint light coming from under her door. She must have forgotten to turn off the light when she’d left with her father in the early hours. It was a wonder it hadn’t drained the meter by now. Turning the key in her lock, she opened the door and started. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I could ask you the same thing!’ Adam stood up and came across the room. ‘Where the hell have you been, Mandy? Your father phoned me, worried sick! He hasn’t dared tell your mother you’re missing. What the hell did you think you were doing, running out of your aunt’s like that?’
She pushed the door closed behind her and met him face to face. He was angry but so was she. The last person she needed to find here was Adam looking for an explanation. ‘I don’t remember asking you to come here!’ she said. ‘Did I ask for your help?’
‘No, but you obviously need it. What’s going on, Mandy? What’s the matter?’
She glared at him and he stared back. Then she saw the concern and anxiety in his eyes and her anger melted. Her face crumpled and the tears she’d held back all the journey flowed.
‘Oh, Mandy, love,’ he said, folding her in his arms. ‘Whatever is it? What’s happened?’
She shook her head and buried her face in his shoulder. ‘I don’t know,’ she sobbed. ‘I wish I did.’
He held her close, then after a moment steered her towards the bed that they used as a sofa. He sat her down and sat beside her. She felt his arm around her shoulders and she rested her head against his. When he spoke again he was gentle as he usually was. ‘Evelyn phoned your dad and said you’d run off. She said you were very upset and you weren’t answering your phone. Your dad left a message on your voicemail and then phoned me. He’s very worried. We need to tell him you’ve been found safe. Shall I send him a text?’ Mandy nodded.
Moving slightly away, Adam took his phone from his pocket and texted her father that she was safely home. Returning the phone to his pocket, he put his arm around her again. ‘Mandy, can you tell me now what’s the matter?’
She shook her head. ‘No, I can’t, I’m sorry.’
She felt him stiffen slightly at the rebuff. ‘Why not? Evelyn told your father that it might have had something to do with a remark Simon made. I understand Simon is her daughter’s boyfriend?’ Adam paused, waiting for a response. ‘What did he say, Mandy? Did he do something to you?’
‘No, nothing like that. I can’t explain. I don’t know.’
In her bedsit, seated next to Adam, Evelyn’s house and its hauntings seemed so far away it was almost unreal. To try and explain to Adam what she had seen and felt was impossible. She didn’t know where to begin. ‘I had some strange dreams, and they unsettled me,’ she tried, and knew it sounded pathetic.
He looked at her, puzzled. ‘Mandy, you don’t run off without a word to anyone and come all the way home because of a dream.’
‘No,’ she agreed, ‘but I don’t know anymore.’
They sat side by side for some moments in silence. Mandy knew she should say something but also knew she couldn’t. For while the hallucinations she’d been having at her aunt’s now seemed fanciful, she was still acutely aware that something had made her father stop her visits to John and Evelyn’s and then forbidden everyone to talk of it. It was all so confusing she was beginning to think she didn’t know what was real and what was imagined any more.
After a while Adam lowered his arm. ‘Do you want me to stay, Mandy?’ he asked gently.
‘It’s difficult for me right now. Perhaps not.’
He nodded and stood up. He looked down at where she sat on the bed, his face serious. ‘Mandy, I’m not going to pressure you. I never have. But whatever you’ve fled from won’t be solved by running away. I’m going home now. Phone if you need me. Take care.’ He kissed the top of her head, turned and, without looking back, crossed the room and let himself out.
Mandy stayed where she was, perched on the bed, and stared into the room. The fridge hummed and a few moments later she heard the front door slam in the hall below as Adam let himself out. The heavy oak door with its leaded light window was not dissimilar to the one at Evelyn’s house, the door her father, his anger brimming over, had dragged her towards on that last night. Why had he been so angry? What had she done? Why were Sarah, Evelyn and Mrs Pryce crying, and where was Uncle John? If she closed her eyes she could see that hall; she could feel her father�
��s fingers gripping her arm, see his face tight with anger. Before he’d opened the door he’d turned and raised his fist.
Mandy’s eyes shot open. Yes, he’d shaken his fist in anger but it wasn’t at her. It was Evelyn he was angry with. It was Evelyn he’d shouted at. Mandy screwed her eyes shut and concentrated. She pictured the scene that night as she’d seen it on fleeing Evelyn’s. There he was pulling her towards the door; she could see the leaded light window. Just before he’d opened the door he’d turned and raised his fist and shouted. And now she remembered the words he shouted. ‘If you ever come near my family again, I’ll have the lot of you arrested!’ Yes it was Evelyn he’d been so angry with, not her. But why? Try as she might she couldn’t remember any more.
Nineteen
The following afternoon, Mandy got off the bus in the village. She’d chosen the stop closest to the village store rather than the one near the lane that led to her aunt’s house. It had started to rain, and while she now had a jacket – brought from home – she hadn’t thought to bring her umbrella. She quickened her pace, her heart racing at the prospect of what she was about to hear. It had occurred to her during the night, in the normality of her bedsit, that as Mrs Pryce had been in the hall that last night then it was likely she knew what had happened and, not bound by the family’s vow of secrecy, could tell her.
Mandy crossed the road to the shop. The door clanged open and an elderly couple came out. They smiled at her and put up their hoods before hurrying off. Mandy went in and the door clanged shut behind her. The shop was busier today, Saturday, than it had been on her last visit. She looked over to the till on the right where she’d last seen Mrs Pryce, but a girl in her twenties with long blonde hair was serving a customer. Mandy went further in and peered down the aisles, but there was no sign of Mrs Pryce. She went round the corner and looked into the recess that housed the post office counter; a woman, a similar age to Mrs Pryce, was serving behind the security grille. Mandy waited until the customer had finished and, having checked that no other customers were waiting, went up to the counter. The woman smiled and looked at her questioningly. ‘I was wondering if you could help me?’ Mandy said. ‘I’m looking for Mrs Pryce. Is she here? I’m an old friend.’
‘I know who you are,’ the woman said kindly. ‘Mary mentioned you’d come in last week. It’s Amanda, isn’t it?’
Mandy gave a small nod; clearly nothing went unnoticed in the village.
‘I’m afraid Mary’s not in today,’ she said. ‘She only works part-time. Can I give her a message? I should be seeing her at church tomorrow.’
Mandy hid her disappointment. ‘No, no message, thank you.’ She began to move away. ‘I’ll tell her you came in,’ the woman called after her. ‘She’ll be working again on Tuesday.’ ‘Thank you,’ Mandy said, and left the store. Tuesday. It seemed a lifetime away.
Outside large drops of rain splattered on the pavement and the sky had darkened. Mandy crossed the road and walked quickly along the path away from the village and towards the lane that led to her aunt’s. She was bitterly disappointed. She’d had her hopes set on asking Mrs Pryce; now she’d have to wait until Tuesday, assuming she was still at Evelyn’s. Thunder rumbled in the distance and Mandy knew she shouldn’t go down the lane with its overhanging trees if there was any chance of lightning. When she’d stayed as a child her aunt had often warned Sarah and her, once they were old enough to come into the village alone, to wait until a storm passed and not to shelter under the trees. She could hear Evelyn saying it: Wait under the bus shelter in the village if there’s a storm. Don’t shelter under the trees. Mandy remembered her warning and also the game of dare Sarah and she had played when they’d gone into the village one summer’s afternoon and a storm had broken. Sarah had wanted to wait under the bus shelter as her mother had told her, but Mandy had goaded her cousin until she’d agreed to go down the lane. It had been fun and dangerously exciting – hearing the thunder and then seeing how many trees they could run under before the lightning struck. Mandy remembered their squeals of laughter; how they’d arrived home soaking wet; and the huge telling-off they’d been given, which had been directed at Sarah. ‘You’re old enough to know better,’ Evelyn had said. ‘You should have waited.’ Mandy remembered Sarah had accepted the telling-off without passing on the blame and afterwards Mandy had thanked her. ‘That’s what friends are for,’ Sarah had said.
How I can remember this, she thought, frustrated, but not the important things? I can remember a silly game of dare but not why my father shouted at his sister and I was never allowed in the house again. It was as if a curtain had been drawn over this part of her mind, a curtain which occasionally parted to let her peep in, but not for long enough to make any sense of what she saw.
The rain was falling heavily through the canopy of bare branches overhead and Mandy began to jog along the lane. She was nervous at the thought of seeing everyone again. She’d phoned Evelyn after Adam had gone the night before and had apologized for disappearing, saying she’d just needed a break. Although Evelyn had been understanding and hadn’t pressed her, her running off after Simon’s remark must have sparked speculation. Doubtless she had been talked about and discussed, but now she needed to go back. Adam had been right: running away wouldn’t solve anything, and she’d also realized she couldn’t desert her grandparents.
Five minutes later, wet and out of breath, she jogged down the drive, past the wooden sign saying ‘Breakspeare Manor’, and to Evelyn’s front door. She pressed the bell, heard it chime, and then a moment later Evelyn opened the door. ‘Good to have you back, Mandy!’ she exclaimed, relieved and pleased to see her. She gave her a quick hug. ‘You’re soaking. I’ll get you a towel.’
‘Thanks. How’s Grandpa?’
’About the same.’
Mandy stayed on the doormat just inside the hall and took off her sopping wet jacket and shoes, which had leaves and dirt stuck to the soles. The house was quiet and only Evelyn’s car had been parked on the drive. Evelyn reappeared and passed her the towel.
‘Is John here?’
‘No. He’s gone to visit his mother. He goes every Saturday. She’s in a nursing home now.’
Mandy nodded and rubbed her hair on the towel. So John was out, and Gran would be in the study. While she had the opportunity, and before her courage failed her, she should ask Evelyn what she knew. She concentrated on rubbing her hair and carefully avoided Evelyn’s gaze. ‘Last night I was thinking about when I last stayed here,’ she began, her voice unnaturally light. ‘Can you tell me why you and Dad fell out? What happened to stop me coming here?’
She heard her aunt’s silence. Then she met her gaze and saw her look of shock and disbelief – the same disbelief she’d seen on Gran’s face when she’d asked her.
‘You really don’t know, Mandy?’ Evelyn asked, amazed.
Mandy stopped rubbing her hair. ‘No, I really don’t. But you do, and I’d like you to tell me. I used to see Sarah regularly and then suddenly I wasn’t allowed to come here any more. Something happened, something very upsetting, and I’d like you to tell me what.’
Evelyn’s look of disbelief slowly vanished, replaced by confusion, then her face set. Mandy could guess what was coming next. ‘No, I can’t be the one to tell you,’ she said firmly. ‘You’ll have to ask your father; it was his decision to stop you coming here. If he hasn’t told you he’s got some explaining to do. I always thought burying it would make it worse, and now it has.’ Evelyn stopped. ‘You’d better change before you catch cold.’ She turned and went down the hall.
Mandy stared after her as the door to her past once more slammed shut in her face. She seethed inwardly with anger and frustration. It crossed her mind to run after Evelyn and demand the truth – make a scene if necessary, until she told. But scenes weren’t a part of their family – one thing Evelyn and her father still had in common was their self-control and dislike of raw emotion!
Her phone began ringing in her bag. ‘Yes?’ she
said. It was Adam. They hadn’t spoken since he’d left her bedsit the evening before.
His voice was subdued. ‘How are you?’
‘OK.’ She crossed the hall and started to climb the stairs as she spoke.
‘Are you at your aunt’s now?’
‘I’ve just arrived. How did you know I was coming here?’
‘Your dad phoned me this morning.’
‘I see.’ She pushed open the door to the bedroom and, dumping her bag on the floor, began pulling off her wet jeans.
‘You’re sure you’re OK?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Mandy, your parents have asked me if I want to come with them when they visit tomorrow. I said I would like to but I wanted to make sure it was all right with you first?’
She hesitated. ’Yes, why not? Gran will be pleased to see you.’
‘And you?’
She sat on the bed in her T-shirt and pants and pulled off her damp socks. ‘Yes.’
‘Sure?’
‘Yes, come. I’d like to see you.’
‘Good. Is there anything you need?
‘No, I don’t think so.’
’I’ll see you tomorrow then.’
‘Yes.’
Saying goodbye, she closed her phone and returned it to her bag. She knew she should have tried to sound more enthusiastic, but in some ways seeing Adam right now just felt like an added pressure – more emotion and unresolved issues to deal with. Recently – even before Grandpa’s illness – whenever they’d seen each other he’d gone away hurt and she’d ended up feeling a shit. But she wanted to see him, she always looked forward to seeing him; it just seemed to go pear-shaped. She would make a big effort tomorrow.
