The Girl in the Mirror

by Cathy Glass

  ‘Oh.’ She stared at him, confused. They were standing at the foot of the slide. She’d just come down and Adam must have slapped her bottom as she’d turned to run to the steps for their next go.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said again.

  ‘It’s OK,’ she said quietly and moved away. ‘We’d better get back. I don’t like leaving Grandpa for too long.’

  ‘No, all right.’ He fell into step beside her, and then, slipping his arm around her waist, tried to kiss her, but she pulled away.

  ‘We can be seen from the house,’ she said.

  Adam nodded. They walked side by side and in silence with his arm loosely around her waist. She knew she was being a cold, heartless bitch but the man with the moustache had unsettled her. She didn’t want Adam to kiss her now, and the feel of his arm around her waist no longer offered the comfort and support it had on the walk down to the swings. She could still feel that man’s hands around her waist as he’d lifted her high in the air and John had looked on, laughing. She thought John should have seen her distress and stopped the man. Sarah was a similar age; John should have known the embarrassment this type of attention caused. But he hadn’t, indeed he’d laughed, colluding with the man and fuelling her embarrassment and discomfort. She remembered his laugh; it was almost as if he’d enjoyed it.

  As they walked Mandy responded to Adam’s comments about the grounds and the house with a nod or grunt. By the time they arrived at the side door to the house she’d fallen completely silent. Adam reached out and took her hand to stop her opening the door. ‘Mandy, what have I done now?’ he said with a sigh.

  ‘Nothing.’ She looked at him and shook her head. ‘It’s just a difficult time for me. I’m sorry.’

  ‘All right, if you’re sure. I think I understand.’

  She was sure he didn’t, couldn’t possibly understand.

  Twenty-One

  Mandy knew there was no way Adam could have understood, even if she’d been able to tell him. Sympathize, yes, offer words of reassurance, but not understand. He couldn’t have understood because she didn’t understand herself. Why being held by that man had unsettled her and why John’s laughter, his collusion, had upset her even more, she didn’t know. It was all too much. She had enough to cope with with Grandpa being so poorly; the rest, including Adam, would have to wait.

  It was nearly 11 p.m. and Mandy was gazing at the lava lamp, absently following a small red bubble which had recently broken away and was now floating aimlessly. A feeling of normality had returned to the house, and particularly to the study, now the weekend was over and their ‘guests’ had gone. Her parents were returning the following weekend, with Adam, unless she phoned to say they should come sooner. Evelyn had said that Sarah and Simon wouldn’t be returning until the following Saturday either as Simon worked ‘long hours in the City’.

  They were like soldiers regrouping after an assault, Mandy thought, and she had to admit to a small sense of relief. An unspoken bond, a comradeship, had developed between the four of them from being with and nursing Grandpa, which made it difficult to include ‘outsiders’. She was sure Evelyn and John felt it too: a slight resentment at having their territory infiltrated, even by close relatives and loved ones. But at least she’d seen Adam, and her parents had returned home reassured, having spent time with Grandpa who, while not waking, hadn’t been uncomfortable between injections.

  Mandy suddenly realized the tapping on the laptop beside her had stopped. She turned to look at John. His head rested on the chair-back, his eyes were closed and his lips slightly parted. With his muscles relaxed in sleep, there was little of the suave, successful businessman, who prided himself on keeping fit. More a heavy-jowled, slightly flabby, middle-aged man with deep expression lines across his forehead and either side of his mouth. Mandy wondered why she had chosen him to have a crush on, but then Sarah had chosen her father, which seemed even more incomprehensible. How could your own father have sex appeal! She thought back to John as he had been ten years before and guessed he would have been deemed handsome. He’d also listened and talked to her in an adult way when her parents had still treated her very much as a child, often dismissing her views as inconsequential. ‘You’ll learn,’ had been her father’s favourite expression when she’d dared to disagree with his opinion, meaning that when she grew up she’d realize he had been right. Whereas John had listened attentively to her views, taken them seriously, discussed issues with her, and had even sometimes agreed.

  She looked at John’s laptop. The coloured screensaver boxes flew steadily across the screen. She resisted the temptation to reach over and touch the mouse to see what he’d been viewing. He could wake at any time and she’d almost been caught once. Grandpa whimpered and then tried to sit up. Mandy was immediately on her feet and across the room.

  ‘Grandpa, it’s Mandy,’ she whispered, leaning over the bed. ‘Are you in pain? Do you want anything?’ He whimpered again and then said something she didn’t understand. ‘Say it again,’ she said gently, lowering her ear closer to his mouth.

  ‘Water, Mandy,’ he croaked.

  ‘I’ll get it.’

  By the light of the red lava lamp she silently crossed the study and fetched the beaker of water they kept ready on the tray; returning, she knelt beside the bed. Sliding her arm under the pillow she eased Grandpa forward, at the same time tilting the beaker to his mouth. He’d lost so much weight he was light as a feather. He took a sip and licked his lips. ‘Do you want some more?’ she asked softly.

  ‘No, thanks, love.’

  She lowered the pillow and set the beaker on the floor. His eyes were still closed but his hand came out from under the covers, searching for hers. She took it. ‘Hi, Grandpa. How are you?’ she whispered.

  He gave a small nod. ‘Good. No pain,’ he rasped. Then, very slowly and pronouncing each word separately: ‘What time is it?’

  ‘It must be nearly midnight now. It’s Sunday. Mum and Dad came to see you today.’

  ‘Ray?’ he asked, his eyes opening.

  ‘They’re gone now. But Mum and Dad were with you all afternoon.’ She rubbed his hand. ‘They sat beside your bed and talked to you. You didn’t say much.’

  He nodded and gave a small laugh. ‘And Lizzie?’

  ‘Gran’s in bed, asleep. Upstairs,’ she added, in case he thought she was still in the single bed in the study. ‘She’s fine. Will you try and wake and speak to her tomorrow?’

  ‘I’ll try, but I’m very tired. I’m sure she understands.’

  ‘I’m sure too.’ Mandy smiled, and swallowed the lump rising in her throat. He spoke slowly and with great effort, but he hadn’t been this awake for days and he wasn’t in pain. She felt touched and privileged to be with him, but sorry Gran and her parents weren’t here to be part of it. ‘Gran sits here,’ she said, tapping the chair beside the bed. ‘All day. From nine o’clock in the morning until nine o’clock at night.’

  ‘A twelve-hour shift then,’ he said with a small smile.

  ‘A labour of love,’ she replied quickly, enjoying the repartee they usually shared.

  ‘She’s a good woman, my Lizzie. I’m a lucky man to have her.’ He smiled again, and turned his head towards her, his glazed and red-rimmed eyes trying to focus.

  ‘Shall I get your glasses?’ Mandy asked.

  He shook his head. ‘I’ll be asleep again soon.’ Then he seemed to sense someone else was in the room. ‘John?’ he asked, trying to raise his head.

  Mandy pointed. ‘He’s asleep in the chair over there.’

  He nodded, and relaxed his head on to the pillow again. ‘Evelyn?’

  ‘She’s asleep upstairs.’

  ‘So there’s just you awake, keeping me company?’

  ‘That’s right.’ She smiled. ‘I feel very honoured.’

  His eyes, struggling to stay open, now closed. ‘You’re a good girl, Mandy,’ he said faintly. ‘It can’t be easy seeing me like this. I am grateful.’

  ‘There’s no nee
d to be grateful,’ she said, now fighting back the tears. ‘I like being with you, Grandpa. I’m pleased to help. I love you.’

  But there was no reply. His eyes stayed closed and his head slowly fell to one side as he lapsed once more into unconsciousness. ‘Grandpa?’ she tried, but silence followed.

  She remained where she was, kneeling beside the bed and holding his hand. It was a bitter-sweet moment – just the two of them locked together in the warm red glow of the lamp. His breathing slowly deepened and the gaps between each breath grew longer as he descended down through the layers of unconsciousness until his hand became limp in hers.

  A few minutes later she heard John stir. Then he woke and stood up. ‘Everything all right?’ he asked, coming over and seeing the beaker beside the bed.

  ‘Fine. Grandpa was awake.’ She returned his hand to beneath the sheet. ‘He spoke for a few minutes.’

  John looked shocked. ‘Are you sure he was conscious? With all that morphine? He hasn’t been properly awake for ages.’

  Mandy felt a niggle of irritation. ‘Absolutely. He spoke very clearly and wanted a drink. He asked where everyone was and I told him. He was pleased Mum and Dad had visited.’

  ‘So why didn’t you wake me?’ John asked, piqued. ‘Didn’t it cross your mind that I might want to see him while he was awake!’

  ‘Sorry!’ she said indignantly. ‘Next time I’ll run round and wake the whole house, shall I?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ John snapped, ‘but it wouldn’t have hurt you to have woken me. I’m in the same room, for Christ’s sake!’

  ‘All right! Point made!’ she said, her voice rising. Standing, she brushed past him and stormed out of the study, and went down the hall to the cloakroom where she shut the door. He was the one who was being ridiculous. Pathetic! Behaving like a spoilt child who had missed out on a treat. Yet she had to admit there was some truth in what he’d said. If the situation had been reversed she would have wanted to have been woken – a reward for all the hours of nursing Grandpa when he’d been unresponsive. But it highlighted just how narrow and intense their lives had become that John and she had clashed over this.

  Ten minutes later she returned to the study and without speaking sat in her armchair. John was intent on his laptop and didn’t immediately look up. She went to plug in her iPod but before she did he said: ‘I should apologize, Mandy.’

  She looked at him. ‘Don’t worry. I’ve taken on board what you said.’

  ‘Friends?’

  She nodded.

  Half an hour later Grandpa woke again and asked for the toilet. ‘I’ll see to it,’ John said. ‘You put the kettle on and make us some tea.’ Since Grandpa had been using the urine bottle John had been the one to ‘see to it’, so preserving some of Grandpa’s dignity and saving her embarrassment.

  When she returned with the two mugs Grandpa was asleep once more. John left the study to empty the bottle. Grandpa woke again at 2 a.m. and was still pain-free and alert. They helped him further up the pillows and he asked for his glasses. Mandy passed them to him and showed him his cap.

  He smiled. ‘Just in case I pop out?’

  ‘Well, you never know,’ she joked.

  She sat on the chair Gran usually occupied and John perched on the bed. It took time and concentration for Grandpa to form his words, as though it used all his energy, but he kept asking questions as if trying to regain his grip on the world: ‘What’s the date?’ ‘What time is it?’ ‘What was the weather like yesterday?’ ‘What’s forecast for tomorrow?’ ‘Is someone collecting my mail?’ ‘Am I having my Warfarin?’

  ‘Yes, Dad, don’t worry,’ John said, and Mandy nodded in agreement, but felt a stab of guilt at the last question. They had stopped giving him the Warfarin, which he’d been taking for years for his heart condition, when he’d no longer been able to swallow tablets. The doctor had confirmed there was no need to continue it. But Mandy now wondered if stopping the Warfarin was shortening his life, for with Grandpa awake and pain-free twice in two hours there almost seemed a glimmer of hope.

  ‘Are my slippers here?’ he asked Mandy with a knowing smile. ‘I might need them tomorrow.’

  ‘Yes, they’re here, tucked under the bed.’

  ‘Good. Can’t be without my slippers or cap.’ The slippers Mandy had given him for Christmas as she gave him slippers every Christmas although she’d tried to persuade him to have something different.

  Presently she felt his hand go limp in hers. ‘Tell Lizzie I love her,’ he said before falling asleep.

  He woke again just before dawn, but only briefly. ‘You still here, love?’ he said to Mandy with a smile, and then fell into a deep sleep. He was still asleep when the nurse came at 9 a.m. John told the nurse he’d been awake and asked about the Warfarin. ‘If Mr Edwards wants his pills and can swallow them, he can have them,’ the nurse said. ‘They won’t do him any harm.’

  ‘Will they do him any good?’ John asked.

  The nurse hesitated. ‘At this late stage, it’s doubtful,’ then added quickly: ‘But it’s good he didn’t need the morphine in the night. He doesn’t need another shot now either.’

  John waited until they were outside the study and away from Gran before he asked the nurse directly what he thought of Grandpa’s progress – for progress was how they’d come to view it. Evelyn was with them in the hall and Mandy watched the nurse as he struggled to find the right words to let them down gently: ‘Mr Edwards’s pulse is very weak. It’s almost gone from his neck. Reducing the morphine will allow him to be more awake, but call me straight away when he needs another shot.’

  Mandy saw her own disappointment reflected on the faces of Evelyn and John as they nodded and knew they had to accept this.

  ‘Doctors aren’t always right,’ Gran said when Mandy returned to the study, sensing the conversation that had taken place.

  ‘No,’ Mandy agreed, and sat in the chair beside her. But seeing Grandpa once more deeply unconscious, his emaciated head lolling to one side and the sickly grey tone to his skin, she understood why the nurse had been cautious and said what he had. It seemed almost impossible Grandpa had been awake and fully conscious or ever could be again. He was a shell of a man.

  Yet an hour later he woke and, reaching for Gran’s hand, said, ‘How’s my Lizzie doing?’

  ‘Good!’ she said, surprised. Then he asked for a glass of champagne. ‘Champagne!’ Gran exclaimed. ‘You don’t want champagne, Will. You need milk to build up your strength.’

  Mandy called Evelyn and John and they grouped around the bed. ‘If he wants champagne then he will have it,’ John said. ‘Any particular vintage, Dad?’

  Grandpa gave a small chuckle and shook his head. ‘Nothing too expensive. Don’t want it going to waste.’

  ‘No chance of that, Dad,’ Evelyn said gaily, and giggled. There was a buzz in the room, a furtive excitement as though they were planning a forbidden party.

  John left the study and Mandy thought it was typical of this house that John could produce a bottle of champagne just like that. She never had a bottle of champagne on hand (let alone a choice of vintage) and she doubted her parents stockpiled it either. John returned with the bottle and five champagne glasses on a silver tray and, with a certain ceremony, set it on the coffee table. The anticipation built as they watched him slowly peel the foil from the top of the bottle of champagne and then release the cork. It shot out with a loud pop that made them jump. Evelyn laughed and held out a glass to catch the foaming liquid.

  ‘Shall I put yours in the beaker, Dad?’ John asked.

  Grandpa pulled a face. ‘Champagne in a plastic beaker?’ he exclaimed in mock disdain.

  ‘Whatever was I thinking of?’ John laughed. ‘Thank goodness one of us hasn’t lost his sense of decorum.’

  He finished filling the glasses, passed them around and then took one to the bed. He tilted it as Grandpa sipped.

  ‘Hmm, it’s a good one,’ Grandpa said between swallows.


  Evelyn smiled. ‘Only the best for you.’

  There was something so pathetically touching in seeing Grandpa enjoying this little pleasure Mandy thought she was going to cry. Her heart went out to him almost as much as when he was in pain. But no sooner had he finished the champagne than he started to retch. John put down his glass and grabbed the bucket.

  ‘There!’ Gran said as Grandpa brought up the clear, still frothing liquid. ‘I knew he should have had milk. It was too strong for his stomach.’

  ‘I can usually hold my drink better than that,’ Grandpa quipped. He lay his head back on the pillow and began to doze.

  Yet despite not being able to keep down the champagne his progress, if that was what it was, continued throughout the morning and into the afternoon. Grandpa woke every hour or so for about five minutes, spoke to whoever was in the room, and wasn’t in any pain. The nurse looked in every four hours, took his pulse and temperature and listened to his heart, but went away again without giving him an injection. Each time Grandpa woke he asked: ‘What time is it?’ a little anxiously as though he had a flight to catch or an important meeting to attend. Having been told the time, he asked the day, and then wanted confirmation: ‘Is it twelve twenty-five on Monday then?’ It was as though he wanted to keep a grip on his place in the world.

  By three o’clock Mandy was wondering if she should telephone her parents and tell them of Grandpa’s progress. She would have phoned them if his condition had deteriorated so shouldn’t she give them the chance to see him while he was awake and doing well? She wasn’t sure, and asked Gran what she thought.

  ‘Ray will be at work,’ Gran said.

  ‘He has his mobile with him. I can phone him at work in an emergency.’

  ‘It’s a two-hour journey,’ Gran said. ‘Will could be asleep again by then. Why not see how he does tonight and phone your dad tomorrow?’ Which seemed reasonable and Mandy agreed to.

  At 5 p.m. Grandpa asked for something to eat, and their hopes soared further. ‘But he hasn’t eaten for over a week,’ Evelyn said, trying to curb her enthusiasm. ‘What would you like, Dad?’