The Girl in the Mirror

by Cathy Glass

  Evelyn and John looked at the nurse.

  ‘I think that would be nice,’ he said.

  Mandy stepped outside the study. With her fingers shaking and her heart drumming loudly she took her mobile from her bag and pressed her father’s number.

  ‘Mandy,’ he said, anxiety already in his voice. ‘What is it?’

  ‘You need to come now, Dad. Grandpa probably won’t make it until Sunday.’ She heard her voice break.

  ‘I’m on my way.’

  Twenty-Three

  Two hours later Mandy fell into her mother’s arms, and the tears she’d been keeping a tight lid on flowed freely. ‘I should have phoned you yesterday, when he was awake,’ she sobbed. ‘He’s so poorly now. I’m sorry.’

  They were in the hall; her father was still in his office suit, having stopped by home only to collect her mother.

  ‘Don’t upset yourself,’ her father said awkwardly as her mother stroked her hair. ‘We said our goodbyes on Sunday. Grandpa understands.’

  Evelyn appeared in the hall and, with her guard lowered from emotion, came over and kissed and hugged her brother and sister-in-law unreservedly. ‘Thanks for coming,’ she said. ‘It was the right thing to do. The nurse has been and Dad is more comfortable now.’

  They followed Evelyn into the study where John and Gran were sitting by the bed. John shook her father’s hand warmly and then kissed her mother’s cheek. He fetched more chairs from the dining room, which he arranged around the bed. They sat in a large semi-circle, mainly in silence, and looked at Grandpa as the minutes ticked by.

  It was as though they were waiting for something, Mandy thought, although what, exactly, no one could have said. Often the only sound in the room was Grandpa’s breathing, his breaths so far apart now it seemed impossible he would ever take the next. His legs and arms occasionally twitched beneath the sheet, and from time to time he moaned in his sleep, but his eyes didn’t open and he didn’t appear to be in pain. A strange, almost sweet smell began to drift from the bed, which hung in the air and would not disappear despite Evelyn opening the window. It was unlike anything Mandy had ever smelt before and she wondered if this was what was meant by the ‘smell of death’. Did the body give off its own strange perfume as it gradually closed down? An essence distilled from the life it was losing? She knew she couldn’t ask, but she could tell the others smelt it too.

  They sat grouped around the bed, only leaving to go to the toilet as the day slowly passed. The nurse came again at two o’clock clearly expecting this visit to be his last. But as the hours passed Grandpa’s condition began to stabilize. When the nurse came again at four o’clock he said his pulse rate was the same as it had been yesterday. ‘That’s good,’ her father said, and Gran nodded. Mandy wasn’t sure.

  Shortly after 5 p.m. Evelyn said she would ask Mrs Saunders to make sandwiches and a pot of tea, and they could have it in the study. Mandy’s parents nodded gratefully and thanked her, and Mandy was pleased they were staying. But she saw the strain on their faces and knew they were emotionally exhausted and couldn’t take much more of just sitting beside the bed, watching and waiting. She had begun to regret phoning them and telling them to come, for what purpose had it served? Grandpa didn’t know they were here – the only positive was that it was nice for Gran to have both her children beside her.

  After they’d eaten Evelyn suggested she ask Mrs Saunders to make up a bed so they could stay the night. Mandy was relieved her father refused: ‘We’ll wait until the nurse comes again, and then make tracks,’ he said. Mandy knew he couldn’t cope with another day of just sitting hour after hour by his father’s bed. Grandpa couldn’t have coped with it either if he’d been in the same situation; they were both men who needed to be doing something.

  ‘I’ll phone if there’s any change,’ Mandy reassured her father, although she knew she wouldn’t be calling him to bring him to his bedside for more of this.

  The nurse returned shortly before 8 p.m. and they all left the study while he washed and changed Grandpa and gave him an injection. When he’d finished he called them in and said he’d put Mr Edwards in incontinence pants as he was wet. Mandy felt their collective guilt at not having noticed Grandpa had wet himself. He’d given no indication he needed the toilet, so no one had thought to check beneath the sheets.

  A few minutes later Mandy hovered by the study door as Evelyn and John showed the nurse out, and her parents said what they assumed would be their last goodbye to Grandpa. Her mother stroked his forehead lovingly and told him he was very brave and what a smashing father-in-law he’d been. ‘You’ve been the best,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t have wished for anyone kinder and more supportive.’ Her father stood to one side and repeatedly cleared his throat in an effort to choke back his tears. Their pain was pitiful to watch and Mandy wished they would just go.

  ‘Try not to upset yourself, Jean,’ Gran said. ‘Will’s had a good life. He wouldn’t want a lot of fuss.’ Which made her mother cry all the more and she moved away from the bed.

  ‘Dad,’ her father said, finally going forward. He lowered his mouth closer to Grandpa’s ear. ‘I want you know there’s nothing for you to worry about. Evelyn and I have patched up our differences and we’re friends again.’

  Although Grandpa gave no sign he had heard, Mandy saw the look on Gran’s face and could have wept. ‘Thanks, Ray,’ she said, touching his arm. ‘That means a lot. I’m sure Will knows.’

  Her father straightened, kissed Gran’s cheek and then said goodbye quickly before emotion got the better of him and he broke down completely. Gran stayed in the study while Mandy went with her parents to see them out. She stood in the porch in front of Evelyn and John and watched her parents cross the drive and get in the car. The night air was cold; she shivered and crossed her arms protectively across her chest. The interior light of the car came on, and then slowly dimmed and went out. The wipers flicked across the windscreen, clearing the thin layer of dew, and the engine burst into life. Mandy watched the car slowly come towards them and sweep round the carriage driveway. As it drew level her parents gave a small wave and managed to raise a smile. Mandy smiled and waved, just as she had countless times as a child when they’d dropped her off to stay the weekend, or for a few days during a school holiday. But whereas then she’d brimmed with excitement at the prospect of staying with Sarah, now she felt a deep sense of foreboding which could only partly be explained by Grandpa’s condition.

  They returned inside and to the study. Evelyn made Gran Oval-tine and then asked Mandy if she would like to sleep upstairs: ‘Your dad said you were looking tired. You haven’t had a proper night’s sleep since you arrived.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Mandy reassured. ‘I do sleep in the chair, and it’s more important you have a reasonable night, with everything you have to do.’ But if she was honest she didn’t want to sleep upstairs. Something told her it was safer downstairs in the study with Grandpa and the warm red bubbles of moving light.

  ‘All right, if you’re sure,’ Evelyn said, and then added as she did every night: ‘Wake me if I’m needed.’

  However, unlike the previous nights Mandy now found she couldn’t sleep; in fact she couldn’t even close her eyes. There was something different about tonight, something that had begun that morning and, although Grandpa had stabilized, now continued. There was an almost tangible air of expectation, as though the waiting of the afternoon and evening was about to reach fruition. Although how, she couldn’t have said. A sign maybe? Chariots of winged angels appearing from the heavens? She didn’t think so. But something had shifted and she was sure John felt it too. He was very restless and couldn’t settle to his work. Every so often he stood and, placing his laptop on the coffee table, wandered over to the bed and checked on Grandpa, then returned, without speaking, to his chair.

  Mandy rested her head on the chair-back and watched the red swirls of moving light coming from the lamp as she absently counted off the seconds between Grandpa’s breaths. The g
aps had widened considerably over the last week and his breaths had also grown shallower, almost as if he was taking them with token effort, just to keep his family happy. Reaching down beside the chair she took her phone from her bag and checked the time. It wasn’t midnight yet, but it seemed an eternity since the daylight had gone and her parents had left. Another red bubble of oil broke off in the lamp and drifted away. The breathing continued in the background, then stopped. Grandpa suddenly sat bolt upright and cried out in pain.

  They were both out of their chairs and by the bed. ‘It’s all right, Dad,’ John reassured, placing his hands on his shoulders. ‘We’re here.’

  Grandpa’s eyes were screwed shut and beads of sweat stood on his forehead. ‘Help me,’ he cried, doubling over. ‘Don’t let me suffer.’

  ‘I’ll call the nurse,’ John said.

  ‘No! No more. Make it end, please. You said you would help me. You promised!’

  John flinched. He hesitated, then said, ‘Come and stand here, Mandy, while I call the nurse.’

  ‘No!’ Grandpa cried, but John ignored him.

  Mandy went round to where John had been at the bed-head and began gently massaging Grandpa’s shoulders, trying to ease away the pain. John picked up the phone on the desk and keyed in the numbers he knew by heart. ‘Damn! His phone’s off. It’s gone through to his voicemail.’ He severed the line and tried again. Grandpa called out.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Mandy soothed, supporting and massaging his shoulders. ‘John is phoning the nurse.’ She could feel his shoulder blades poking through the material of his pyjamas; there was nothing of him – surely not enough to maintain life.

  ‘It’s John Osborne,’ John said, leaving a message on the nurse’s voicemail. ‘Please come as soon as you can. Dad is in a lot of pain.’ He waited to see if the nurse would pick up; when he didn’t he replaced the receiver. Grandpa gave another cry and doubled forward again.

  ‘The nurse is on his way,’ John lied. Mandy met his gaze and saw his fear and helplessness.

  She stood aside to let him take over and John began massaging Grandpa’s shoulders. Going round to the side of the bed, Mandy took one of Grandpa’s hands in hers and began rubbing the cold, damp skin. But unlike before, when he’d responded by curling his fingers around hers, they remained rigid with pain. John continued massaging but it didn’t help; Grandpa was past being soothed. She looked at his grey face, contorted with agony, and the emaciated neck jutting birdlike from his pyjama collar, and prayed the pain would stop. Stop it, please, for good, and give him the peace he deserves. ‘Is there nothing we can do?’ she asked helplessly, looking at John.

  Grandpa cried out again. ‘Help me!’ he begged.

  John was silent for a moment, then his hands became still and he stopped massaging. His voice was low and tight when he spoke. ‘Dad, do you want me to help you end it?’

  ‘Yes,’ Grandpa rasped. He clutched his stomach as the waves of pain lashed over him.

  In the red glow of the lamp Mandy felt her heart cramp with fear. She looked at John as he slowly took his hands from Grandpa’s shoulders and moved away from the bed. He crossed to the desk where the water and beaker were on the tray and took off the lid. She knew he had made a decision but she was too scared to ask what he was going to do. Suddenly they both froze as the door chime sounded in the hall. He looked at her and their eyes locked, complicit in guilt. Neither of them dared move. Then John took his hand from the beaker and headed towards the study door. ‘It must be the nurse,’ he said. ‘It can’t be anyone else.’

  Mandy allowed herself to breathe again.

  Twenty-Four

  John had left the study door open and, through it, Mandy could hear him go down the hall and open the front door. She heard him greet the nurse, and then Evelyn, who must have been woken by the door chime, said something, although Mandy couldn’t hear what. Mandy sat on the edge of the bed, stroking Grandpa’s hand, talking, trying to reassure him. The nurse appeared in the study first, followed by John and then Evelyn, who switched on the main light. Mandy blinked against the sudden brightness after the red glow. She stood and moved away from the bed to allow the nurse access. He took Grandpa’s pulse and listened to his chest. Grandpa tried to cooperate by breathing in and out when told. But when the nurse asked if he could lie down Grandpa shook his head and remained bent forward. ‘We need to make you more comfortable,’ the nurse said, and looked to John for assistance. John went to the bed and, taking a shoulder each, they slowly eased Grandpa down. But as his head touched the pillow and his back straightened, losing the last of the C curve, he cried out in torment.

  ‘Oh Dad,’ Evelyn said, her hand shooting to her mouth. Mandy put her arm around her.

  ‘Soon have you asleep,’ the nurse said gently. He took two sterilized packages from his bag and, tearing them open, assembled the injection.

  ‘Can’t you increase the dose?’ John asked in desperation.

  ‘Unfortunately not. I can’t even give him all this.’ He held up the phial and tapped it. ‘On top of what he’s already had it could kill him.’

  Mandy met John’s gaze and knew what he was thinking.

  They watched as the nurse shot some of the morphine into a tissue before lowering the waistband on Grandpa’s pyjamas and injecting him in the only flesh he had left: at the top of his thigh. Mandy wondered if Grandpa was aware that some of the morphine had been withheld, which to a man who was begging for permanent release from pain would seem like an added torture. The morphine took immediate effect and Grandpa’s face relaxed and he drifted into sleep. The nurse disposed of the used syringe and morphine-soaked tissue in a small plastic box, which he returned to his bag. He then took out another sealed package, which Mandy saw held a clean pair of incontinence pants. As she had done previously she left the study while the nurse changed him.

  She went into the kitchen, where she filled the kettle and set it to boil. What exactly had John been about to do to end Grandpa’s suffering when he’d removed the lid on the beaker? What would she have been an accomplice to had not the nurse arrived in time? In some ways it was a great pity Grandpa had been so opposed to staying in hospital where pain relief was presumably always on hand, and effective.

  A few minutes later she heard John and Evelyn see the nurse out. Then they came into the kitchen and Mandy passed them a mug of tea each. They leant against the kitchen cabinets and sipped their drinks, none of them in any hurry to leave and return to the study. Grandpa would be deeply unconscious straight after the morphine so wouldn’t need anything for a while, and there was a cosiness and a sense of normality in standing in the kitchen having a hot drink.

  ‘Gran didn’t wake then?’ Mandy asked after a moment.

  ‘She wouldn’t have heard the bell,’ Evelyn said, ‘not without her hearing aid, poor dear.’

  With her hair uncombed and no make-up, Evelyn looked much older than she did during the day. The strain of nursing Grandpa and all the accompanying worry and upset showed in the lines of her face. Mandy felt sorry for her: she seemed so fragile. She was pleased her father and Evelyn had made up their argument and were now comfortable in each other’s company. It was just a pity it had taken ten years, she thought, and Grandpa’s illness to do it. When Evelyn spoke again there was a finality in her voice that hadn’t been there before, as though she’d been considering something and had come to a conclusion. ‘God only knows why the nurse didn’t give Dad the full injection. In some countries they help people at the end.’

  ‘But not here,’ John said. ‘If the nurse had given Dad the extra morphine, aware it could kill him, he could have been prosecuted.’

  ‘And who’s going to tell? Us?’ she challenged. ‘Hardly. It would have been a relief for Dad. He can’t take any more and he doesn’t deserve this. He should be allowed a dignified and pain-free end.’

  John glanced at Mandy. There was a small silence when Evelyn’s words hung in the air – as though she had just given them permission to
do whatever might be necessary. ‘I know,’ John said quietly after a moment. ‘I completely agree. But we can’t ask the nurse.’

  Evelyn nodded and looked away.

  In that moment there was a tacit agreement, Mandy thought, that Grandpa wouldn’t be allowed to suffer any longer. But only they could be the ones to put a stop to it. It would be up to them.

  After a few moments Evelyn crossed the kitchen and placed her empty mug in the dishwasher. ‘Mandy, are you all right to continue or do you want to go to bed?’

  ‘I’m all right,’ Mandy confirmed. John nodded.

  An hour later John had closed his laptop and was trying to doze, while Mandy, her head resting on the chair-back, was again following the red bubbles of moving light. Although it was only an hour since the injection, Grandpa was already very restless; his limbs jumped beneath the sheets and he groaned in his sleep. Suddenly he was bolt upright again and crying out in torment. They both leapt out of their chairs. Mandy went to the bed as John grabbed the phone to call the nurse. ‘Perhaps he’ll change his mind about the injection now,’ he said bitterly. Mandy saw his anger and frustration and was a little afraid.

  The nurse answered and said he would come straight away. ‘Twenty minutes,’ John said to Mandy as he put down the receiver and joined her at the bed.

  Grandpa moaned in agony and, leaning forward, clutched his stomach. ‘The nurse is coming,’ Mandy reassured him.

  ‘Hold on there, Dad,’ John added, a tight edge to his voice.

  John moved to the bed-head and tried massaging Grandpa’s neck and shoulders, while Mandy sat on the bed and held his hand as they had before. But Grandpa’s pain was so far past being soothed that their pathetic attempts seemed risible. Bent double, with his arms closed across his stomach, it was as though he was trying to contain the pain, stop it at its source. He cried out, dry-retched, called on God to help him, and then somehow found the strength to raise his voice at them: ‘You promised! You said you’d help me!’