by Cathy Glass
Upstairs she went into her bedroom and, switching on the light, stood for a moment in the centre of the room, unsure of what she should be doing or feeling. Dear Gran, now alone after nearly sixty years of marriage – a lifetime. How would she cope? Mandy felt lonely too and wished she had Adam with her – to feel his comforting arms around her and hear his words of support. It was too late to phone and tell him of Grandpa’s death now, he would be asleep, and it wasn’t something you could put in a text. She’d phone in the morning before he went to work. Closing the curtains but leaving on the light, she undressed, then dropping her clothes on the chair, climbed into bed.
The sheets felt strangely smooth after so long sleeping in her clothes in the chair, too smooth, in fact, and distant – not enfolding. She lay on her back and stared at the ceiling as thoughts came and went. Like the photos on John’s laptop, images flashed across her mind – charting a chronology of events since she’d first arrived. How long ago it now seemed since she’d woken to find her father throwing gravel at her window and been told of Grandpa’s illness. How long it seemed since she’d come into this house a stranger, recalling almost nothing of the hundreds of visits she’d made as a child, her mind having blocked them out in order to protect her. But tomorrow she would be leaving, remembering and aware. Aware, but not healed, she thought. And she had yet to tell Adam what had happened, and talk to her parents. Perhaps Evelyn was right and a therapist would help, for she doubted the past would simply settle into its rightful place, remembered but not tormenting.
Some time later, exhausted yet unable to sleep, she heard the front doorbell chime and then male voices in the hall. Footsteps made their way to the rear of the house, then it went quiet. Mandy got out of bed and taking her kimono from her suitcase tied it round her. She quietly opened the bedroom door. All the lights were on. Padding round the landing, she went to the small bay window at the top of the stairs that looked over the front. From the window she could see a hearse on the driveway below, gloomy in the half-light of the lamp. The rear door was up and the back of the hearse was empty. Voices came from the study, fell silent, then footsteps sounded in the hall again. Taking a step back from the banister, like a child hiding on the landing, she looked down. A wooden coffin, supported by four pallbearers, came into view and moved silently through the reception hall beneath her and out of the front door. John was with them; Evelyn and Gran must have stayed in the study. Returning to the window she saw the pallbearers slide the coffin into the rear of the hearse and lower the rear door. Taking a step back they gave a small respectful bow and then climbed into the hearse. Mandy watched it as it pulled to the end of the drive and then, turning right, disappeared from view. ‘Goodbye,’ she said quietly under her breath. ‘Goodbye, Grandpa, love you.’
Thirty
The April sun shone through the curtains, lighting up the room, and for a moment, as she woke, Mandy wondered where she was. Then she remembered she was in bed at her aunt’s and, with a mixture of sorrow and relief, that Grandpa was at peace. She must have finally dropped off in the early hours and had slept like a log. She’d no idea of the time. Reaching for her bag she pulled it on to the bed and took out her phone: 9.50 a.m. It was too late to phone Adam now, he’d be at work, so she texted: Plz fone when ur free. luv m. There was a text from her father confirming he and her mother would be arriving at midday. Returning the phone to her bag she got out of bed and opened the curtains. The view was breathtaking. She hadn’t noticed it before; it had always been very early in the morning and dark outside when she’d come into the room for clean clothes to take to the shower. Now she stood for a moment gazing at the magnificent gardens and lawns which ran into the green hills beyond. The sun blazed high in the clear blue sky with some real warmth, suggesting summer wasn’t very far away.
Twenty minutes later, showered and dressed, Mandy once again stood gazing out of the window as she brushed her damp hair into style. Her mobile rang. ‘Adam, thanks for calling,’ she said, and then quickly told him what she had to say, needing to get the words out and spoken: ‘Grandpa died peacefully in his sleep last night.’
‘I’m so sorry, Mandy,’ he said, and asked after everyone. ‘Shall I come and collect you?’
‘Thanks, but Mum and Dad are coming later. I should be home by five.’
He hesitated, not wanting to sound insensitive, but wanting to see her. ‘Shall I come to your flat after work? Do you want some company?’
‘Yes.’ But the surge of pleasure she felt at the thought of being with Adam again was quickly tempered by guilt for allowing herself to feel joy now Grandpa was dead. ‘Yes. I’d like that,’ she said, subdued. She had yet to tell him what she’d discovered about her past, but now wasn’t the right time.
‘Do you need anything?’ he asked. ‘Milk? Bread?’
‘I suppose so. The stuff there will be stale and out of date.’
‘OK. I’ll put the essentials in your fridge at lunchtime. I’m at our North London office for a meeting. Text me if you think of anything else.’
‘Thanks, Adam,’ she said, grateful that he was taking charge. ‘Thanks for everything, and thanks for being you.’
He gave a small laugh. ‘Can’t be much else. See you later, Mandy. I’ve missed you.’
‘I’ve missed you too.’
Bread, milk, her flat: how distant that life now seemed – a world away. Yet very soon she would be returning home, with bills to pay, pictures to try and paint, and another job to find when her year out ended. With these thoughts came another stab of guilt, and great sadness, for Mandy knew that while her life would shortly be resuming Gran’s would never be the same. And again she wondered how Gran would cope without Grandpa – indeed if she would want to cope at all.
Going downstairs she arrived in the hall and hesitated, unsure what she should be doing now. The house was quiet and for a moment Mandy wondered if everyone was out, then Evelyn appeared from the morning room, looking less strained and tired. ‘Hello, love,’ she said, kissing her cheek. ‘Did you sleep well?’
‘I did, thank you. And you?’
‘Not too bad. Gran’s having some breakfast. We’re all a bit late this morning. John is in the study. He’d said he’d like to see you. I don’t know what about.’
Mandy frowned, puzzled. ‘Now?’
‘If you wouldn’t mind, dear. I’ll tell Mrs Saunders you’re down.’
Mandy couldn’t imagine why John would want to see her and felt slightly unsettled by his request. And it would be strange going into the study, which had been the hub of the house, knowing Grandpa was no longer there. The study door was closed and she gave a brief knock. ‘Yes,’ John called from the other side.
Entering, she was surprised to see that the bed and all the trappings of nursing Grandpa had already gone; the room was once again a study. John was seated at his desk, which was now under the window. He swivelled round in his chair to face her and Mandy thought that, whereas Evelyn had benefited from a night’s sleep, John looked a good deal worse: even more tired and strained. ‘You’ve been busy,’ she said, referring to the room.
He nodded. ‘The lamp’s broken,’ he said anxiously, and pointed to the desk.
Mandy looked at the desk behind him and saw the lava lamp, their constant companion of moving red light, was on its side with the plug open. A screwdriver, fuse and bulb lay beside it where John had been trying to fix it.
‘It stopped working last night,’ he said. ‘Just after Grandpa died. I noticed it while I was waiting for the undertakers to arrive. I can’t find what’s wrong with it.’
Mandy recognized the coincidence in the timing but thought it was unlike John to view it as significant. ‘Is that why you wanted to see me?’ she asked, hovering just inside the door.
‘Not exactly. Close the door, will you?’ She did as asked. He paused, ran his fingers agitatedly through his hair and then met her gaze. ‘You won’t tell anyone, will you, Mandy? Now or in the future?’
‘Tell
? What?’ she said, not knowing what he was talking about.
He lowered his voice in conspiracy. ‘Trying to help Grandpa end it. I mean I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought that was what he wanted. Thank God I stopped when I did. But if anyone found out – your parents or Sarah, they wouldn’t understand. They’d never forgive me.’
Mandy’s thoughts flashed back to the night before last when John had ejected her from the study. When she’d returned and accused him of assaulting her he’d been standing over Grandpa with a pillow in his hand. ‘No, of course I won’t say anything,’ she said quietly. She felt uncomfortable that he needed to ask. Mandy realized just how different their perception of events was now, in the cold light of day, compared to that night, when their desperate desire to stop Grandpa’s suffering had overridden all other considerations including their ability to think rationally. ‘We did what we thought was right at the time. And you couldn’t do it in the end, could you?’ she said.
‘No, thank God,’ he said again.
She turned to go. ‘It will be our secret then, Mandy,’ he said behind her. She froze. It was the same phrase Jimmy had used when he’d attacked her: Don’t scream or I’ll have to kill you. This is our secret, Mandy. Cry out and I’ll kill you. Their voices were so similar.
‘I won’t tell,’ she said quietly after a moment, and left the study, bitterly wishing he hadn’t used those words.
Gran was just finishing her breakfast as Mandy entered the morning room. She was dressed smartly in a dark blue dress. ‘How are you, Gran?’ Mandy asked, going over and hugging her.
‘Not too bad, love. Sad. I miss him already and I know it will get worse.’ She looked at Mandy with a small wistful smile. ‘Get yourself some breakfast now, dear.’
Mandy went to the sideboard and helped herself to fruit juice and scrambled egg on toast as Mrs Saunders came in and refilled Gran’s cup of tea. They exchanged a good morning and Mrs Saunders left.
‘The lamp’s broken,’ Gran said, glancing at Mandy as she sat at the table. ‘John thinks Will had something to do with it. Superstitious bugger. Mind you, I wouldn’t put it past him. Will hated that lamp, but didn’t like to say. Perhaps it was his parting shot.’
Mandy returned Gran’s small smile; her irreverence was a positive sign that life was continuing. Mandy took a sip of her juice and picked up her knife and fork. ‘And if Evelyn and John think I’m coming to live with them,’ Gran added, ‘they’ve got another think coming. I’m not being ungrateful but I have a home of my own to go to, and that’s where I shall be going later today.’
Mandy looked at her, concerned. ‘But how will you cope alone, Gran?’
‘I’ll manage, love. Don’t you worry. I’ll arrange for one of those home carers to help me have a bath and take me shopping. Sue, my neighbour, always kept an eye on us and I know she’s there if I need her. And doubtless Evelyn will be popping in. I know I won’t have Will and I’m going to miss him dreadfully, but we agreed whoever was left behind wouldn’t give up. We lived in that bungalow nearly all our married life. I know he’ll be watching over me. I’m determined to see out my days in my own home, and that’s an end to it.’
Mandy nodded, and chided herself for ever thinking differently.
Her parents were expected at 12 noon so after breakfast Mandy packed her case and hauled it downstairs, so it was ready in the hall by 11.30. There was something else she wanted to take with her, something that was rightfully hers but seemed insensitive to ask for now. Yet if she didn’t ask soon, her parents would arrive and her keepsakes would be left behind, just as they had before.
A few minutes later Mandy seized the opportunity when she saw Evelyn going upstairs. ‘Evelyn, have you got a minute?’ she called. ‘I need to ask you something.’
Evelyn paused on the stairs. ‘Yes?’ she said, turning. Mandy could tell from her expression she feared she was going to be asked a deep and soul-searching question about the past.
‘It’s nothing bad,’ Mandy said quickly. ‘It’s just…I was wondering…You know those china ornaments – the little dogs on the shelf in the Pink Room? Well, I was wondering if I might have them? To complete my collection.’
Evelyn’s expression changed to relief. ‘Yes of course, they’re yours. You bought them with your pocket money. They’ve been there waiting for you all these years.’ She smiled and her eyes watered. ‘Come on, let’s get them now.’
Mandy followed Evelyn up the stairs, round the landing, and into the Pink Room. It was only now she noticed how ‘shut up’ the room felt. The air was slightly stale, heavy, as though the windows weren’t often opened, and there was a faint smell of mothballs. The wallpaper, paint and furnishings, chosen by her and once so bright and vibrant, now seemed dowdy and tired. ‘I used to love this room,’ Mandy said as Evelyn crossed to the shelf beneath the window where the ornaments were. ‘Does anyone use it now?’
‘Not really. It was always your room, and when you stopped coming no one had the heart to change anything. Sarah used to creep in here sometimes when she felt sad, and sit on the bed. She missed you terribly. Now we no longer need all the bedrooms so I’ve just left it. Sentimental, I suppose.’
Evelyn picked up the little china dogs and, cradling them carefully in the palm of her hands, came over and set them on the bed. Opening the drawer in the bedside cabinet, she took out three little boxes.
‘Their display boxes!’ Mandy cried. ‘You’ve kept them!’
‘Of course. As I remember you always kept the boxes so they travelled home safely.’
‘I did! That’s wonderful. Thank you so much.’
Mandy watched, deeply touched, as Evelyn carefully took each ornament – the poodle, collie and King Charles spaniel – and, lowering each into its box, closed the lid. ‘There,’ she said, sealing the third and handing them to Mandy. ‘I’m so pleased they’re going home at last.’
‘Thank you,’ Mandy said again, and kissed her cheek.
‘You’re very welcome, love.’
Downstairs Mandy tucked the three precious boxes into her suitcase and then waited in the sitting room with Gran until the doorbell rang, signalling her parents had arrived. She went into the hall to greet them; John and Evelyn kissed and hugged them too, easily and comfortably, as they used to. Her father had brought Evelyn a bouquet of flowers and Evelyn’s eyes misted as she thanked him. ‘You shouldn’t have,’ she said, but Mandy could see just how pleased she was and how much the gesture meant.
Gran cried a little when she saw them all come into the sitting room with Evelyn proudly showing her the flowers. ‘I wish Grandpa could have seen you all together as a family again,’ she said. ‘Although he probably knows,’ she added.
Evelyn gave the flowers to Mrs Saunders to put into a vase and they sat in the sitting room; her parents, Evelyn and John discussing the funeral arrangements while Mandy sat quietly with Gran, listening. Presently Mrs Saunders wheeled in the silver hostess trolley containing platters of neat triangular sandwiches, small pastries and tea. Some things never changed, Mandy thought: lunch dead on twelve o’clock. Mandy sat close to Gran as they ate, reluctant to put any distance between them. Her mother sat on the sofa beside Evelyn while her father was in an armchair next to John. Mandy thought that while it was heart-warming to see the family together again (minus Sarah, who was at work) it also highlighted the gap in the family: the missing family member whose lively conversation and ready humour would never be heard again.
Gran cried again when it was time for them to leave. Mandy kissed and hugged her and said she would phone that evening when they were both home. She helped Gran on to her walking frame and went with her to the reception hall, where they all embraced. John opened the front door and her father carried her suitcase to the car and shut it in the boot. With a final goodbye they climbed into the car – her father into the driver’s seat, her mother in the passenger, and she in the rear. The engine started and her mother opened her side window to wave goodbye. Mand
y turned and looked through the rear window at Evelyn, John and Gran standing in the arched stone porch. The wistaria, which had been no more than dry twigs when she’d arrived, had burst into flower in the last few days. Voluptuous bunches of lilac blooms, like exotic decorations at a party, covered the front wall and framed the porch. Mandy looked through the rear window and waved goodbye, the receding view a sharp contrast to the last time she’d left in her father’s car ten years before. Then it had been dark and cold and no one had waved them off, and she’d been badly hurt and felt so alone and scared.
As the car turned from the drive on to the lane and the house disappeared from view, Mandy faced the front. ‘Can we make a quick stop at the shop in the village?’ she asked. ‘There’s someone I need to say goodbye to.’
‘It wouldn’t be Mrs Pryce, would it?’ her father asked, meeting her gaze in the interior mirror.
‘Yes,’ Mandy said, surprised. ‘How did you know?’
‘I stopped off at the village shop on the way here – to buy Evelyn those flowers – and much to my surprise I was served by Mrs Pryce. She recognized me immediately.’ He paused and met her gaze again. ‘So I finally got the chance to thank her and apologize for shouting at her the last time we left.’
‘You know I’ve remembered what happened?’ Mandy asked.
‘Yes, Evelyn phoned. We need to talk, Mandy, but later, I think, when you’re ready.’
Thirty-One
Leaving her parents in the car, parked where the double yellow lines ran out, Mandy entered the shop and heard the bell clang as the door closed behind her. Mrs Pryce was serving at the till. She glanced up and, seeing Mandy, smiled an acknowledgement, then continued serving. Mandy waited by the display of greeting cards until Mrs Pryce had finished with the customer, then approached the counter. ‘I was so sorry to hear about Mr Edwards,’ Mrs Pryce said, her sincere sadness mingling with apprehension at seeing Mandy again. ‘How is Mrs Edwards coping?’
