by Cathy Glass
Mandy looked at her aunt – so genuine and sincere in her apology, her heart went out to her. ‘It wasn’t your fault,’ she said quietly. ‘And I suppose Dad only did what he thought was best.’ She let out a small sigh. ‘The power of the mind. We didn’t speak of it, it wasn’t dealt with, so as far as I was concerned it didn’t happen. I wonder if I would have ever remembered if I hadn’t come back to this house?’
‘I think you would have remembered eventually,’ Evelyn said. ‘Something would have triggered a memory – a chance remark or a smell, then you would have asked a question.’ She paused. ‘When this is all over and you are home, I think it might be a good idea if you saw a counsellor.’
‘Why? Do you think I’m mad?’ Mandy asked with a small tight laugh.
‘No, far from it. I think you’ve coped incredibly well. But it’s often easier to talk to someone outside the family. Sarah saw a counsellor for a year after it had happened.’
‘Did she?’ Mandy asked, surprised.
Evelyn hesitated. ‘Yes. She was very distressed – by what she’d witnessed and also because she’d lost your friendship. You were so very close, like sisters.’
‘I know.’ But the irony didn’t escape her; that while Sarah, a witness to the assault, had received counselling, she, the victim, had not. ‘Mum and Dad need to start talking about it as well,’ Mandy said. ‘And Gran. It can’t have been easy for them keeping a lid on it all this time.’
‘No, indeed,’ Evelyn said sadly. ‘They’ve suffered badly.’
There was so much to think about, so much to consider now she knew, Mandy thought, it was overwhelming, and in some ways more frightening than not knowing. Slipping her hand from Evelyn’s, she moved away. ‘Will you explain to John before I come down?’
‘Of course.’
‘And if I get the chance, I’ll tell Grandpa I know, and that everything’s going to be all right.’
Evelyn smiled weakly. ‘That will be a great relief to him. Thank God it’s out in the open now and we can all stop pretending.’
Twenty-Eight
Dawn was breaking as, an hour later, Mandy entered the study. The curtains had been opened and the lava lamp switched off for the day. Grandpa stirred but didn’t wake. John looked up from his armchair with a mixture of alarm and apprehension. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said almost lightly, sitting in the chair beside him. ‘I’m not going to slap your face again.’
He looked at her, still uncertain despite her words, and then, reading her face, visibly relaxed. She felt his gaze on her as she looked across the room towards the bed. The only sound for some moments was Grandpa’s laboured breathing. Then she heard John’s voice, slight and imploring. ‘The photos on my laptop were completely innocent, Mandy, I swear.’
She looked at him, and nodded. ‘I know, Evelyn explained. But why did you behave so secretively? Guiltily – taking the laptop out to close the file?’
He rubbed his hand across his forehead. ‘I thought you didn’t want to see the photographs – that you would be upset by mementoes of your past. Because you never spoke of the time you spent here I assumed you didn’t want reminders. Unlike Sarah. Her counsellor told us to compile the photo albums so she could see all the good times you’d shared. It was one of the things he suggested for helping her through that time. I never dreamt you could misinterpret them.’
‘I never spoke of my past here because I couldn’t remember it,’ Mandy said lamely.
‘I know that now. And you do believe it wasn’t me who came into your room that night?’ John asked, his anxiety returning. ‘I always loved and treated you as a daughter. I would never…’ He stopped, unable to complete the sentence and voice the horrendous alternative.
‘Yes, I know,’ she said quietly. ‘I believe you.’
He paused reflectively, collecting himself before he spoke. ‘Mandy, I would have given evidence if it had gone to court. I would have given evidence against my own brother. But I understood why your father thought it would be too traumatic for you. I’d have probably done the same if it had been Sarah.’ He stopped again, his face creasing at the thought of his daughter being attacked.
‘I can appreciate why you and Dad would think like that, and want to protect us,’ Mandy said. ‘But how can you be certain Jimmy hasn’t gone on and abused others?’
‘I can’t,’ John said, ‘and I’ll live with that for ever.’
It was as if Grandpa knew that the demon of silence had been exorcized, Mandy thought, and the secret that had tainted the family’s lives for so long had finally been exposed and was being dealt with, and he could relax. While she’d been upstairs the nurse had arrived and given Grandpa another injection, and although it was no stronger than the previous ones and was not expected to last any longer, the hour’s release from pain stretched into two hours, then three, and Grandpa slept on, throughout the morning. It was a deep and peaceful sleep where he lay very still and comfortable with his head resting lightly in the small hollow of the pillow, his slow irregular breaths the only sign of life.
John had planned to attend a meeting at work at 1 p.m. but sent his apologies for absence instead. Evelyn phoned Sarah and said Grandpa was sleeping peacefully, and Mandy phoned her father at work and left a message on his voicemail saying the same. The atmosphere in the study, which had held so much darkness and pain, now seemed lighter, as though a veil had been lifted. Mandy knew that Grandpa had finally been released from his prison and the hourglass was slowly emptying its last few grains of sand.
When the nurse made his routine visit shortly after 2 p.m. they grouped around the bed and waited in silent expectation as he took Grandpa’s pulse. ‘He’s very comfortable now,’ he said gently, returning his arm to beneath the sheet. ‘Two days at the most. I’m not going to disturb him further by examining him; he’ll be dry.’
The nurse hovered with one hand on Grandpa’s shoulder, reluctant to leave. Mandy thought how difficult it must be to keep having to say goodbye to the patients he’d grown close to – a continual cycle of bereavements. She knew she couldn’t have done his job. ‘Sleep tight, Mr Edwards,’ he said at last, patting Grandpa’s shoulder one final time. ‘You deserved it; good man.’
The nurse said he would look in again that evening, but to phone if they needed him sooner. John and Evelyn saw him out, which left Mandy alone with Gran. ‘I don’t think I’ll phone Dad and tell him to come,’ she said.
‘No,’ Gran agreed. ‘There’s no point. Will won’t wake again now.’
Mandy hesitated. ‘Gran, I know what happened ten years ago to make my visits stop. I can remember now.’
Gran nodded stoically. ‘Evelyn told me.’
‘And you’re not surprised?’
‘No. I thought you coming here would take the lid off it, one way or another. Dying is a great leveller – for everyone.’
And as if in agreement, as if the words had filtered down through the layers of unconsciousness and found an audience, Grandpa took an extra breath and the briefest of smiles seemed to flicker across his lips.
‘He knows,’ Gran said.
The afternoon gave way to evening and Grandpa slept on without any obvious sign of change or any need for medication. Mrs Saunders served dinner and before she left for the night she made a point of saying ‘Goodbye, Mr Edwards’ rather than her usual ‘Goodnight’. There were tears in her eyes as she left. The nurse looked in again at 7.30 and took Grandpa’s temperature and pulse. ‘You’re certainly keeping us all in suspense, Mr Edwards,’ he said. ‘Another night?’ And they smiled, able to share the nurse’s small humour. Grandpa was peaceful and no longer in pain. He was ending his natural life, naturally, as it should be.
At 9 p.m., having had her Ovaltine, Gran said she would go to bed. John offered to make up a bed in the study so she could stay with Grandpa, but Gran said not to worry, she’d said goodbye before he’d gone. John nodded. They understood what she meant, for it seemed there was just the shell of Grandpa left now, and wh
atever had made him – his soul? – was no longer there. Gran said goodnight and kissed his lips just as she did every night, and then added: ‘See you soon, love. I won’t be long.’ Mandy felt her eyes brim.
Evelyn saw Gran upstairs and said she was going to lie down too, but they must wake her if there was any change or if they needed help. By 9.30 Mandy and John had settled in their usual armchairs ready for another night. ‘It’s like University Challenge.’ John quipped. ‘I’ve started so I’ll finish.’ Mandy smiled, relaxed.
John opened his laptop and began to work. Mandy answered a couple of texts, and then returned her mobile to her bag and rested her head back. She gazed across the room. The lava lamp once more bathed the study in its red glow as the bubbles continued their relentless journey going nowhere. Mandy knew she would never possess a lava lamp, nor any light with a red glow, for as long as she lived; it would remind her of this study and make her very sad. After a while John paused from tapping the keys on his laptop and looked at her. ‘Would you like to see the photos in that album, Mandy?’
She nodded.
Closing the file he was working on, he opened another. Angling the laptop slightly towards her so they could both see the screen, he clicked the mouse to start the slide show. ‘Album one,’ he said. ‘Baby to five years.’ A photo of her as a small baby being cradled by Sarah filled the screen. They were in the sitting room of this house although the sofa and wallpaper were different. This photograph was replaced by one of Evelyn holding her, again on the sofa.
Mandy turned slightly in her chair to make herself more comfortable as one picture followed another at five-second intervals. Her as a baby – being cuddled by Sarah, Evelyn, and then John, taken in this house on one of her parents’ many visits. Then she was a few months old and sitting on their laps, all of them smiling – a happy family group. Mandy knew there were photograph albums at her parents’ house containing pictures of Evelyn, John and Sarah, but the albums had disappeared from the bookshelf years ago when Mandy’s visits had stopped. ‘I’ve put them away,’ her mother had said when Mandy had asked where they’d gone. ‘They’ll make you upset.’ Mandy had accepted this, perhaps too readily, and had never thought – or dared – to ask why.
The picture changed again and Mandy was a toddler playing in the garden with Sarah who, a year older, was leading the game of what could have been ‘tag’. Next the two of them were in the paddling pool on a hot sunny day, then running naked across the lawn. She laughed; her nakedness seemed quite cute now in the context of how she knew the photos had been taken – within a normal extended loving family. Autumn followed summer, and then winter came. Sarah and she were posing proudly beside a large snowman with a huge orange carrot for a nose. A few photos later and it was summer again and the photo that now filled the screen was the one she’d found previously: Sarah and she playing naked under the sprinkler, their little bodies pale and flawless, glistening in the sun.
‘Did Jimmy ever see these?’ Mandy suddenly asked, looking up.
John looked slightly taken aback and shook his head. ‘We didn’t ever really see that much of Jimmy, even before that weekend. Although he was my brother Evelyn was never taken with him, right from the start.’
‘Perhaps she saw something in him she didn’t like,’ Mandy offered, remembering her own feelings of unease when he’d come near her.
‘That’s what Evelyn said. But he was my brother and until that night I had no reason to doubt him.’
‘No,’ she agreed hesitantly, and returned her attention to the laptop as the first album ended with Sarah’s fourth birthday party.
John closed this album and opened the next. ‘Five to eight years old,’ he said. ‘This is when you started sleeping over.’
It began with another birthday party. A clown with a big red nose and brightly coloured costume was entertaining about a dozen children. Mandy saw herself seated on the floor with Sarah’s other friends laughing at the magic. Then they were in the garden, seated either side of long refectory table and eating a party tea. As with the other photographs taken when Mandy was old enough to remember, they were starting to become familiar. The next picture was of Sarah and her wobbling on bicycles as they tried to navigate an obstacle course constructed on the lower lawn. ‘I remember that!’ Mandy said. ‘You helped us build those little bridges to ride over. The ones we built collapsed.’
‘That’s right,’ John said, pleased. ‘I did. And what about this next one? Which one is the donkey?’
Mandy playfully tapped John’s arm for the photograph now showing was of Sarah and her on donkeys at the village fête. Gaily coloured stalls could be seen in the background together with a large Victorian-style merry-go-round.
‘I know I had some very good times here,’ Mandy said reflectively. ‘Thanks to you and Evelyn. You were like a second mum and dad to me.’
‘I’m glad you feel that way,’ John said. ‘I’m glad we can enjoy the past again.’
The slide show continued. Mandy smiled at the memories as John supplied the date and occasion on which the photo had been taken if she couldn’t immediately place it. Engrossed in the pictures, it was a few minutes before she realized that the air had grown unnaturally still, and was far too quiet. That the deep and laboured breathing which had dominated the study for so long had finally stopped.
Twenty-Nine
Nothing could be heard save for the small swish on the laptop as one photograph replaced another. And as the silence grew and realization slowly dawned, Mandy withdrew her gaze from the screen and looked at John. He turned towards her and their eyes met. Not daring to breathe, they remained very still, waiting for the next breath. So quiet and still, the silence was deafening – palpable almost.
Then John slowly lowered the lid on the laptop and stood. Mandy rose too. She walked close beside him as they crossed the study to the bed, all the time listening, expecting, almost willing that next intake of breath. None came. The silence continued, disturbed only by the faintest brush of their feet on the carpet. At the bedside Mandy hesitated before looking down, afraid of what she might see. But with his eyes closed, head relaxed to one side and mouth slightly open, Grandpa looked exactly as he had done when asleep.
Mandy stood beside John at the bed and listened and waited some more. ‘Is that it?’ she whispered, expecting something different – something more dramatic almost.
‘I think so,’ John said. Lowering his cheek to Grandpa’s nose he felt for any hint of breath. ‘Yes,’ he said, straightening. And neither of them moved, for being aware that Grandpa had stopped breathing was very different from accepting he was dead.
After a moment John reached out and drew the sheet up and over Grandpa’s face just as Mandy had seen in films. Then, crossing the room, he switched on the main light. Mandy continued looking at the bed, not really believing.
‘I’ll wake Evelyn and Gran,’ John said at last, taking control. He looked at his watch. ‘Will you phone your parents and tell them Grandpa died at eleven twenty. Use the phone in the sitting room if you prefer.’
Mandy nodded dumbly and, finally taking her gaze from the shrouded figure that was once Grandpa, left the room.
It wasn’t until she heard her father’s voice break and her mother crying in the background that she too began to cry, and once she’d begun it was difficult to stop. ‘It was very peaceful, Dad, really it was,’ she sobbed, trying to reassure him and control her own tears. ‘He was asleep, and then he just stopped breathing.’
‘And he didn’t say anything?’
‘No. Nothing. He died in his sleep.’
‘And he wasn’t in any pain?’
‘No, not at all.’ Thank goodness she could say that honestly.
‘And Gran?’
‘John has gone to wake her and Evelyn now.’
He paused and blew his nose. ‘I’ll come over first thing tomorrow. Could you ask Evelyn or John to give me a ring when they come down, please?’
‘Of course, D
ad.’
‘Thanks, love.’ He hung up quickly so she couldn’t hear him break down completely.
Mandy stayed on the sofa in the sitting room, tears silently falling, too exhausted to move. Her parents never cried openly; hearing them do so intensified her own sorrow. She felt completely overwhelmed, and tired to the point of collapse. It was like coming to the end of a marathon; stamina had kept her going for so long but now there was no reason to continue she’d collapsed at the finishing line, drained and depleted. Presently she heard Evelyn and Gran come downstairs and go into the study. A few minutes later Evelyn came into the sitting room. Wearing a dressing gown and slippers, she looked as exhausted and wretched as Mandy felt.
‘Gran is staying with Grandpa until the undertakers arrive,’ Evelyn said, sitting on the sofa. ‘She’s being very brave, poor love.’
Mandy dried her eyes and tucked the tissue into her sleeve. ‘Dad asked if you would phone him. He said he’ll come tomorrow. Is there anything I can do?’
‘No, we’ll take care of everything now. Why don’t you go to bed?’
‘If you’re sure, I think I will. I’ll see Gran first.’
Evelyn nodded and reached for the phone. Mandy heaved herself from the sofa and kissed her goodnight. ‘See you tomorrow, Mandy,’ Evelyn said quietly.
Going along the hall to the study, she found the door open and tentatively took a step in. Gran, in her dressing gown, was sitting beside the bed, just as she had been doing every day since Grandpa had come here from the hospital. She’d drawn back the sheet from Grandpa’s face and was holding one of his hands. Bent slightly forward, she was looking at him with the same concern and tenderness she’d always shown, as though he could wake at any moment and find her sitting there. She looked up at Mandy and smiled sadly, then returned her attention to Grandpa. Mandy went over and kissed Grandpa’s cheek; his skin felt cool and damp. Straightening, she kissed Gran and said goodnight. ‘I’m going up. I love you.’ Turning, she quickly left the room.
