by Paula Hayes
Fern phoned Dad who phoned Grandad, who very kindly said it was all right if Linden caught the bus down to us for the last week of the holidays. This is one of the main problems with the charming Colin. He is too TOO NICE. I am not a baby but I burst into tears and without thinking I ran straight to the Rosy Room. For once the key turned straight away and I flung open the door. Dramatically. I threw myself into one of the cold old chairs and then … I might have got a teensy-weensy bit carried away with my crying because I started to hyperventilate until I felt woozy. The mirror started to rattle, but then Grandad came in with a cup of hot chocolate and a paper bag, so it stopped. He spoke to me in a soothing voice and actually said he would SPEAK to LINDEN about his BEHAVIOUR. This made me feel much better but certainly not my normal self.
Grandad did not visit Nimmy today. He said that he had a little cold but I never saw him sniff or cough once — but he did mention Nimmy was a bit susceptible to bugs at the mo. He did have a longer nap, which allowed me more time in the Rosy Room, but I think he stayed home because I got overwrought and he was worried about me. BLESS!
When I pulled back the sheet today, Other Lily was waiting for me. She had a very caring look on her face and the first thing she said was, ‘How are you now, dear?’ which was very nice of her. I was not ready to talk about the Linden thing so I said breezily (fab new word) that I was super. She didn’t believe me but she was quiet about the tears. I guess girls in mirrors can be quite sympathetic and intuitive too.
I had some questions to ask her, mostly about the finger, her entrapment plus I wanted to know who Mock Cream Beryl was.
So I opened up the chocolate box and pulled out the finger and I showed it to her. I was expecting her to be curious or disgusted but she actually clapped her hands together with glee and did a very pretty dance. ‘You found it! You found it!’ she shouted and I had to say, ‘Inside voices, Lily, we don’t want to freak out Col,’ and she laughed even harder.
Once she had settled down with her barely contained joy, she told me that Lucy had lost it and that they had spent YEARS looking for it. I said I was glad I found it for them but what was the deal with it anyway. Other Lily held up her hand in the glass and I could instantly see she had a finger missing. The finger belongs to Other Lily! Then, get this, she started laughing and put her foot up and there was a piece missing from the sandal and the tip of her toe was gone!
GROSS-A-ROONEY!
‘Haven’t found my tippy-toe have you?’ she asked. I said no but I would start looking.
She watched me for a moment and asked, ‘How is Colin these days?’ I replied he is fabulous and the best grandad in the world.
Other Lily smiled and said, ‘Lucy loves him dearly too … what is a Home like?’ I told her it’s not as nice as it sounds.
‘Is Lucy’s favourite colour still emerald green?’ I answered yes it was.
‘Does she still sing like a bird?’ I said no and I then asked a question next. ‘How do you know Colin and Lucy anyway?’
Other Lily laughed again and I have to say that her cheerful chuckle was getting on my nerves a bit. She said, ‘Lucy is my twin sister, silly billy. She is the eldest by eight minutes and thirty-two seconds.’
I have to say that I was surprised, as in blown away, as in gobsmacked, because there has never been any mention of ANY sister let alone a TWIN one. The thought floated through my head that she was indeed an evil witch and she was making up porky pies but then I remembered the picture of two girls in cotton frocks. One was holding a cat and the other was patting it. So there could be some sort of truth to it and I have made a mental note to ask GG in a roundabout non-confrontational (Fern’s word) sort of way. What else don’t I know about this family?
I really wanted to ask her how she came to be trapped in the mirror but I felt like the answer was obvious to her. It was certainly not obvious to me but I did not want to be called a ‘silly billy’ again.
So I kept looking for the toe tip by opening up all the tins and shoeboxes and stuff. Another one of Beryl’s riveting letters fell out and this time she had the secret to a crisp and moist lamington and before I could stop myself I said, ‘Who is Beryl?’
This caught Other Lily unawares because she answered, ‘My mama, of course,’ in a very quiet voice and her eyes fell to the other wingback chair, which has a small knitted rug folded, resting on the cushion. I looked into the mirror and I could see tiny tears running down her pretty chin. I am beyond BLUE for her just remembering it now.
And then I just had to ask, ‘What happened? Why are you inside a mirror?’
Other Lily looked sad and a bit troubled. It was the sort of look my mum gets when she has been thinking for a long time about a problem that she doesn’t have the answer to. I hope she is thinking, ‘Why do I have one awesome child, two normal children and one that is an odious Pig Boy named Linden.’
Six
Other Lily (OL for short, it’s called an initialism!) opened her mouth just as I had one of my on-the-spot light-bulb moments. I shouted, ‘Shazam! Hang on just a mo,’ and ran into my bedroom to get my slightly smashed laptop.
I returned to the Rosy Room, opened up the computer to face the mirror and then I hit record. Lucy was totally intrigued by it and I had to explain it was like a typewriter that could make movies and access all kinds of books, pictures, music and information across the whole wide world. I showed her my amazing ebook collection. She loved the adult Harry Potter covers — she got their symbolism straight away.
OL was impressed with the laptop and said (which I thought was way clever) that it was like Lucy’s old typewriter and gramophone together with all her records, her mum Beryl’s entire newspaper hoard and top-secret recipe notepads, her dad Ken’s home projector, family slides and the wireless radio PLUS her own entire book/encyclopedia collection and Kodak Brownie camera all rolled into one. OL said she had never seen anything like it ‘in all her born days’. She absolutely loved it and even hinted she was a teensy-weensy bit envious. It was like her nine fingers yearned to touch the keyboard.
I showed her a few more things it could do and I took a photo of her and turned it into pop art. Fern is so into pop art and she is always changing things to look either cutting-edge or retro. I am not sure which one pop art is. OL asked me if I could get her an ebook of Alice in Wonderland as Lucy had lost theirs. She had so enjoyed listening to Lucy read it day after day. She never got tired of it. I said Colin didn’t have an internet connection so I was sorry but I couldn’t. I have not read Alice in Wonderland but I did not like the movie so I was not that sorry.
OL kept asking me all kinds of questions about the laptop and it was almost like she didn’t want to talk about how she got stuck in the mirror and I could understand … but I was also dying to know so I said, ‘Why don’t we make a movie of you telling the story of how you got stuck in the mirror.’ I am clever too.
First of all OL patted down her adorable curls and smiled sheepishly but then she took a deep breath, slid down to the ground and sat crossed-legged. She played with her cotton skirt and kept smoothing out all the wrinkles over and over again. I know that feeling — it is stressed to the max. So I said, ‘Don’t worry, we can listen to music if you like, or I could read Harry Potter to you,’ but I was sooo hoping she would tell her story.
Finally, she whispered, ‘Do you remember when we first met … I mentioned a ghost?’
I shut my eyes like I was trying hard to remember and said, ‘Yeah … kind of.’
I did not want to tell her that evening I had an ‘accident of an embarrassing nature’. GG had my favourite PJs dry and extra fluffy for me the next day.
‘As you know, this house is terribly old. There really was a ghost — and his name was Edgar. He made himself known to Lucy and I five months and three days before our fourteenth birthday. We had been living in the house for nearly a year. Fabian, our cat, had sensed him straight away and became uncharacteristically skittish. Edgar had been here all along but o
ur ‘spiritual energy’ was not in the least bit powerful or interesting until then. He also said Ken and Beryl were the dullest people in the entire universe; living or dead.’
‘How terrifying … and rude!’ I whispered while crossing my legs and sitting down as well.
‘Oh, not really, he was more of a nuisance than anything else. Lucy and I called him Edgar the Pudding Head. You see, Lucy could see him and his enormous grinning face. I couldn’t. But that didn’t matter because Edgar was one of those show-off poltergeists — always banging and moving our things around. He was wily enough to only put on a show in front of Lucy and myself. He loved to provoke me on purpose because I suppose I am quite orderly and tidy.’
She sighed and looked around at the scattered topsy-turvy piles of top quality jumble. ‘He thought he was hilarious but he was not! Edgar had just turned fourteen when he died — apparently he had choked to death in 1898 in a pie stuffing competition. He was the outright winner but unable to claim his prize on account of being dead. The highly desired prize was a bar of Cadbury chocolate from the homeland and it went to the runner-up who had had the commonsense not to inhale the pastry up his nose. This riled Edgar beyond belief and he spent the rest of his afterlife utterly fixated on sweet treats. He was forever ruining Mama’s prize-winning cakes, and Lucy and I would get the blame! And the punishment! OUTRAGEOUS!’ Other Lily’s blue eyes sparked and glowered.
Naturally concerned, I asked, ‘What kind of punishment?’
‘Why, the wooden spoon to the derrière of course!’
‘Beryl, you are outrageous!’ I shouted, but OL seemed not to be worried at all by her mama’s actions … like a wallop to the tooshie was totally acceptable. Shudder! Thank goodness our house is a spank-free zone!
I do not like Beryl.
‘We muddled on, the three of us — sometimes Edgar was quiet for ages and ages, other times he was chatty and cheeky and then patty cakes, devils-on-horseback and lamingtons would fly around the kitchen. Lucy would laugh and clap her hands in delight but I was furious … it was a waste of good food AND a paddywhack for us. Lucy said the smack was worth the spectacle of it all. She could be very bold, you know, but I suppose she could see Edgar and talk to him while I kept my nose in a book and tried hard not to pay him any attention — he seemed to thrive on it. I suppose I was a little bit jealous. Anyway, after a few long chats with Lucy, Edgar settled down in this room because it was off the kitchen and he could smell all of Mama’s delicious cooking. He even stopped juggling treats around. And things were fine for a time but then —’
Other Lily stopped talking and played with her skirt some more and then fiddled with her sandal strap so I looked at her foot — and saw the spot where her toe used to live! I tried hard not to look at the missing chunk. Plus I desperately wanted to ask what kind of a treat was a devil-on-horseback!*
‘It’s all my fault,’ she whispered in a voice I knew was hurting her throat to keep the tears in. Heartbreaking.
‘You see, Lucy and I always shared a room. Always … and we were so lucky because as well as being sisters, we were jolly good friends. But then we got out of sorts and I became pernickety. I was jealous of her little tête-à-têtes with Edgar. On the rare occasion that Edgar would hear Lucy playing tunes on her gramophone, he would float on into our bedroom at night and together they would dance to a silly crooning man called Frank Sinatra, and Lucy would twirl and strut and shake her derrière. I was scandalised … it was almost like she was enjoying herself … dancing with a boy! A dead boy, no less. It was very vexing. There was one song I remember well, it was called “I’ve Got a Crush on You” and I knew nothing good would come from her shenanigans. When I look back on it, which I must confess I often do, I now realise she was simply appreciating the music and the movement of it all. But at the time … some nasty words may have flown out of my mouth.’
OL looked up and saw my eyes pop and my wide-open mouth shout dismay at her without words.
‘Oh don’t worry, Lucy could be quite feisty as well. When I wanted to read at night, she would want to sleep and then snap the light off … just like that — SNAP! When I wanted to sleep, of course Lucy would insist on having the lamp on so she could draw the supposedly dreamy Frank Sinatra in pencil. This went on and on and caused quite a few more cross words and bad tempers, until Papa had a very good idea. He suggested I move into the room off the kitchen just before Christmas as a reward for all my hard work and good grades! I was his favourite little bookworm, he said, and Lucy was his favourite little chanteuse, and we were different but equally adorable.’
I like Ken.
Her story was epically intense and even now when I play it back, my heart hurts for Other Lily. But I am torn — it was incredibly rude of Lucy not to let Other Lily read but as for being able to see AND dance with a spectre, that’s AWESOME. I’m basically in awe that my actual grandmother is a medium and it is highly plausible that by the time I turn thirteen I could have this gift too. SCARY WONDERFUL!!
Then OL went on to reveal the most incredible story, now that I’m her confidante (a French word that means she trusts me with her secrets).
It was nearly Christmas time. Other Lily and Lucy were buzzing with sheer happiness as they knew their mama, Beryl, was working hard sewing new matching dresses AND had crocheted them each an identical new bedspread in quite a cutting-edge fancy 1940s pattern to celebrate their individuality. Bless! Ken papered the walls in this rosy spewalicious wallpaper that is still here today. Apparently Ken’s catchphrase was, ‘If it’s a job worth doing, it’s worth doing well.’
Beryl helped choose (read — fully chose) the wallpaper.
One fateful Saturday morning, Ken got Beryl off her Singer sewing machine to help him move Lily’s mirror into the newly minted Rosy Room. This is where it all went wrong. BIG-TIME!
Ken didn’t realise they had ‘a poltergeist with an insatiable appetite for sugary tidbits residing there already’ (OL is a total word nerd too) and when they moved her mirror into the room, Edgar quickly shunted it back out into the hallway with a twirl and a kick. Poor Fabian ran outside screeching and hissing and hid under the house for hours.
Ken’s mind was blown AWAY! This was when Kenneth P. Dunnings of Dunnings Hardware and Nursery passed out cold, hitting his head with a thwack on the freshly polished floorboards. Apparently he was a sensible man and flying furniture was too much for all of his senses — but mostly his sense of sight.
Of course OL knew it was troublemaker Edgar and she was ENRAGED. She pointed her finger at the mirror and screeched that it was time to leave and he was to pack his pudding-filled bags and to go AT ONCE.
OL’s boldness caught Edgar off guard and he must have overshot his dramatic exit through the wall as he ended up in the bathroom with Lucy, who was in a state of undress and ONLY had on her trainer brassiere plus a singlet tucked into her sport bloomers which were pulled up over her knickers with matching anklet cuff socks. ‘Practically naked!’ was how OL described it.
It was Lucy’s turn to get all fired up as she rushed out of the bathroom to find her pa on the ground quite ‘insensible’.
‘EDGAR!’ she shouted and apparently also pointed her finger — and because Lucy could see him, it really hit the mark. ‘Edgar, I explained to you that Lily is going to have your room because she is driving me mad with her neat-as-a-pin attitude and incessant blasted studying.’
‘Language, Lucy!’ warned Beryl, who was obviously upset about the ruckus but held that rules were rules.
I really do not like Beryl.
It was at this point of her recount that Other Lily started to cry and her bottom lip became beyond wobbly. She held her breath as a tiny river of tears trickled down her nose. She said Lucy’s words had cut her to the very core and she looked at her with pleading eyes. But Edgar seized the moment to say Lily was driving him mad too and perhaps HE should move into Lucy’s room so they could dance and eat cake to their heart’s content and — BANG — Lucy’s
gramophone cranked up and Ol’ Blue Eyes Frankie was singing ‘I’ve Got a Crush on You’. DRAMA!
Lucy quickly realised what she had just said and freaked. Lucy did not want to share her room with an amorous pudding and cried out, ‘I am sorry, Lily.’
Edgar, although greedy, was no fool. He quickly worked out that he was on the losing team and pleaded that he might be allowed to stay in the washhouse where he had ‘formerly resided since 1898 without any bother’. But Lucy said NO and asked him in no uncertain terms to leave and never come back.
Other Lily got on the bandwagon and shouted, ‘Just BUZZ OFF, Edgar!’
Edgar looked at Lucy, who was like … hopping mad, and then he looked at Lily who was like … smiling a ‘take that, scallywag’ smirk. Furious, he began to chant in a singsong voice:
SILLY LILY, DON’T DILLY DALLY INTO THE MIRROR YOU GO SILLY LILY, DON’T DILLY DALLY STAY THERE AND NEVER GROW
He PUSHED Lily into the mirror. Lucy said later that evening that Edgar had a look of utter surprise on his face that his chant had actually worked, but then his eyes quickly narrowed and you could see he was thinking that this was a very good solution to their little accommodation problem.
Other Lily ran hard at the mirror to get back out, hands outstretched, but when she touched the glass her finger exploded and fell right into Lucy’s hand. (Impressive Nimmy — I would have dropped it for sure.)
Lucy screamed and screamed and screamed. She yelled, ‘Give her back to me, you rotten scoundrel!’ and went to beat the glass with her fists, but Mock Cream Beryl had the presence of mind to stop her by wrestling her to the ground. From the freshly polished floorboards they beseeched Edgar to ‘GET LILY OUT THIS INSTANT!’
