Lily in the Mirror

by Paula Hayes

  Sadly, I went back to being plain old Lily as I fumbled for the key (I know I am throwing an allergic reaction, I can feel the eczema growing!) and I had a lot of trouble getting the wretched thing into the old misshapen lock. Sophie took the key from me and unlocked the door.

  Nimmy was sitting up like the Queen in her carriage. Her eyes were like pretty blue stars and my brain screamed silently, Nimmy please leave your special place just for a mo!

  I was getting frightened Other Lily was going to shatter the mirror; she was absolutely going off like a frog in a sock. Her hands were clasped together and she was rocking backward and forward like a skittle about to topple over.

  I ran into the room and they followed. As Sophie took her eyes off Nimmy for the first time she looked up and saw Other Lily being joyous beyond belief on the wrong side of the mirror. Her mouth dropped open again and this time I could see her fillings on the right side. There were not as many.

  I whispered, ‘This is Other Lily, well, THE Lily actually … she did disappear in 1947 but only to a parallel universe in the mirror.’

  Sophie tried to speak but found she couldn’t and even though we have discussed Harry Potter in depth, I got the feeling she really thought that magic was just in stories and books. She put the brakes on for Nimmy and sat down on the ground, in a way that could be described as falling over.

  Other Lily waved politely with the missing finger hand but she couldn’t take her eyes off her dear one. Sophie and I couldn’t take our eyes off the pair of them. OL was fit to burst with happiness but Nimmy was partying on in Nimmy Land which, I have to say, annoyed me at this point in time. Meanwhile, OL was getting so excited that she ALMOST touched the glass and I ALMOST had to shout at her, ‘GET BACK FROM THE GLASS UNLESS YOU WANT TO LOSE THE END OF YOUR NOSE FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE.’

  I whispered loudly in Nimmy’s ear that her dear one, Lily, was here with her once again and slowly, very slowly, Nimmy’s eyes came into some sort of focus and she lifted her hand slowly and leaned toward the mirror and whispered, ‘Lily dearest,’ with little dew drops of tears falling down her face.

  Other Lily answered, ‘Yes, it’s me, we are in the Rosy Room together again.’

  And I have to stop writing now as I am crying and smudging the pacer.

  Other Lily moved so close to the mirror that I could see the pretty weave in her cotton dress. I could see that her buttons were green and her skin was tanned. I could see that she was crying with happiness and … whoops there I go again.

  Okay I am back. I needed tissues and cake. There was only fig loaf left in the tin but after my recent experiences I feel mature enough now to enjoy it with a lot of butter.

  What happened next can only be described as a feat of strength and pure love. And MAGIC of course. Nimmy stood up and held out both hands, leaned into the mirror and grabbed her sister’s hands and SHE PULLED HER OUT OF THE MIRROR.

  Total headspin.

  Suddenly, there was Other Lily in real life and she hugged Nimmy and kissed her old wrinkly cheek and Nimmy very gently put her hand on Other Lily’s face and said, ‘Goodbye dearest.’ She started breathing heavily … a kind of shallow pant … but managed to turn to Sophie and me with her eyes and they said, Thank you, dear girls. She looked over my shoulder and I wondered if she was seeing Beryl and Ken in homemade angelic costumes, so I turned around and there were GG and Linden. In my hysteria, I had forgotten to shut the door.

  Grandad was crying and Linden was very quiet and had a look on his face that could have passed for a human with feelings.

  Nimmy whispered, ‘Goodbye Col,’ with a smile so beautiful that I didn’t even notice the missing tooth. I don’t think GG ever did notice it.

  But Nimmy was beyond tired and OL held her tightly while she slumped back into her chair. Her Colin moved forward and placed his cheek on her head. Nimmy was still holding Lily’s hand … but her eyes were closing

  We knew Lucy Griffin was moving on from the Rosy Room.

  Fifteen

  Apparently GG and Linden came home early as they had broken off from the rest of the group to have a little chat about ‘the benefits of an improved attitude’ and that’s how they got to witness the very good magic. So I guess if Linden was a woody wise tree instead of an oinker, GG may have not got to say goodbye.

  GG is old and can only deal with one thing at time so he was totally focused on loving Nimmy. So only Sophie, Linden and I watched as something of an extraordinary nature was happening to OL during all of this. For the first few seconds, she was dewy and lifelike with real freckly tanned flesh and real jealous-making bouncy golden curls. But when Nimmy died, she began to flatten and pixilate like GG’s television screen during a bad storm.

  Other Lily smiled forlornly as her whole body jittered. The wobble became a fuzzy whirl and suddenly she slipped from standing near the wheelchair and INTO a chocolate tin on the ground.

  I could see her pretty blue eyes looking up wistfully at me.

  I picked up the tin and clutched her to my tummy even though the bottom of the tin was so tarnished and old it had crumbly rust coming off it and onto my hands and shirt.

  This had exceeded my wildest imagination. My brain hurt. Other Lily was out of the mirror, which was an extremely big tick. But I did not feel like celebrating. She was tiny and translucent and terribly sad. In my imagination, she came out all shiny and normal and stayed that way. My imagination was in shock from reality.

  What had I done?

  In all the commotion, Mum and Dad woke up and were like, ‘What is going on?’ just as the rest of my family walked in from their little park walk.

  It was me who cried out, ‘Nimmy has just died!’ to help everyone come up to speed with the fact. There was a lot of crying and talking and phone calls to be made, cake to be eaten and tea to be drunk. The Rosy Room felt crowded and I began to feel squashed and small and tragic. I started to chant, It will be alright Lily, and Mum thought I was giving myself a weird pep talk but I wasn’t, I was just trying to reassure OL whose face flashed between a picture of rusted roses and the list of quality chocolates, which included a tempting soft-centred selection. Yum. (I can’t help it if I notice important details in the midst of a crisis.)

  I looked into the chocolate tin and tried to smile because if I had just gotten out of a mirror after sixty-seven years then turned into a slippery little version of myself inside a chocolate tin that was chocolate-free and full of Beryl’s old bits and pieces — I’d need some cheering. But truthfully … I was not sure how I was going to make it all right for OL.

  I gazed intensely at Zinnia in an attempt to appear normal and not like I was clutching onto a tin full of supernatural goodness. I thought (hoped) Zinnia might burst into her usual loud tears and distract everyone so I could deal with the situation in my hands but surprisingly Zinnia did not cry. Instead she said something very nice in Spanish. She was looking at GG holding Nimmy and then she looked at Manuel and then she smiled at Fern. (Fern is learning Spanish to visit Zinnia soon.) Even though it sounded very beautiful, I thought she was saying, ‘Would anyone care for a cup of tea?’ because we do drink tea in a crisis. She kept on talking so I thought she added, ‘It’s a pity we have run out of milk,’ but she didn’t say that at all because the words made Manuel have a little cry too. He is a big softy — but I was sure he would not be blubbing over milk.

  So we were all in and out of the Rosy Room for the next little bit. Then Sophie said it might be a good idea if we took Nimmy back to her bedroom so we did. GG and Mum hurried ahead as they wanted to remake the bed and open up the curtains etc etc. GG loved my roses and said, ‘You are a very thoughtful young lady.’ Dad and Mum tucked Nimmy up and GG sat down next to her. Then all my family stood or sat in GG and Nimmy’s room to wait for the doctor and the matron and the non-sirened ambulance to come. It didn’t take long … Treebark is pretty small.

  The room was very quiet so we could hear the magpies singing and the dragonflies buzzing, which was
really nice. But we could also hear HB’s dogs going bonkers at the postman. Sigh!

  I whispered to Zinnia, ‘What did you say back in the Rosy Room?’

  Zinnzy smiled and translated for us, ‘Love is not a figment, it is alive and real and in this room.’

  El amor no es una invención. Es un ser vivo y real, y está presente aquí en esta habitación.

  Surprisingly Linden blubbed like the rest of us.

  Mum squeezed Dad’s hand and he smiled at her like he met her last week and not over twenty-five years ago, which was nice but nauseating too.

  This veritable love-fest made me think of poor OL who was still in my tin. Or I thought she was! I looked down and she wasn’t there. My brain went into total overdrive but I had the presence of mind not to scream out loud WHERE IN THE BLAZES ARE YOU, LILY?

  I looked hard into the tin willing her to pop back into my sight. I stared so hard I felt hot tears blur the picture on the lid. The red and yellow roses became blobs of orange and the word Cadbury became Farbslurry. Not as appealing.

  I kept my eyelids half shut and squinted down mournfully at the rug. The tassles at the end of the rug started to twitch and before I could think the pesky mice are back I caught sight of a foot wearing a sensible sandal and missing a toe.

  OL had slid out of the tin and into the drapes. They were a faded chintz pattern and her image made the material shimmer like a cloudy flowerbed.

  Breathtakingly beautiful but utterly woebegone. (Linden, family Scrabble loser three years running, argued woebegone was not a word. Seriously!)

  It now appeared Other Lily could stretch or shrink to match the shape and size of her support vehicle.

  I was wishing for my sensible Hermione to come back but I couldn’t even muster Dobby the house elf.

  I watched Other Lily stare at her dear one and attempt a brave but shaky smile just for me. But the wobble turned into a wiggle and the wiggle became a jiggle. The curtain started to bounce and twitch and Fern stood up to shut the window. But it was, of course, closed. Drafts and old people are mutually exclusive. Fern did her that is a curious thing frown but said nothing. Thank goodness! I watched as OL slid into the floorboards and out of sight.

  The doctor came and he had heaps of questions for Sophie and GG. Mum and Dad stayed and helped GG sign some forms (he was a bit shaky) but the rest of us went into the kitchen and Zinnia put the kettle on (typical Griffin procedure). We wanted to give Nimmy some privacy for the last part of her journey.

  At first there was a lot of confusion in the kitchen: Where are the special herbal tea bags? (Fern) Where is the decaf? (Zinnia) Why does GG insist on drinking goat’s milk? (Linden) I found the proper milk! (me) Please — I need coffee right now! (Zinnia) Who ate the last piece of chocolate ganache cake? (Pig Boy) And yes … it was me in a moment of panic … BLUSH. Everyone blustered around, trying to be upbeat about Nimmy having a long and pretty awesome life.

  I overheard Zinnia saying she was going to bake some scones as the cake tin was empty and I got distracted for a minute or two. They are simply the best and their comfort factor is like … a thousand.

  But then I couldn’t find OL and I was really scared some more bad magic had happened to her and she had disappeared forever.

  I went back into the Rosy Room but the mirror just looked like an ordinary old mirror. I carefully threw over the dust cloth for the last time.

  My vibe kicked in and it grew stronger and stronger as I walked down the passage and entered the good room. Other Lily was there, twisted around the wooden hatstand like a gorgeous scarecrow so she could support herself to look out the window. She was watching the ambulance drive away. She didn’t notice me. I stepped back into the hallway and the burbling noise of my family struck me — yes, loud and annoying, but well … I was glad my awesome family was in the next room.

  Thinking about my own family made me think OL would never see or talk to hers again. All of us were her family as well but unless we all knew the truth, there would be more secrets … and she might be forgotten. I was glued to the spot. I could not leave OL but I could not join my family.

  The kitchen door opened a crack. Linden came out into the passage and shut the door behind him which, I guess, was thoughtful of him. He stood next to me and watched Other Lily staring at the rose garden that was blooming brilliantly with bees buzzing all around. It was a veritable riot of pinkness but even vibe-free Linden got the vibe she was not enjoying it.

  ‘She is flat like that boy … in that book … remember?’

  ‘Book?’ I said on the verge of a total breakdown.

  ‘Yeah, it’s a little kids book, Flat Stanley, remember Mum would read it to us all the time.’

  This is probably about the last time he touched a book. I was four and he was nearly EIGHT.

  Just saying.

  So we had a ‘moment’ which was nice but then he caught sight of OL’s hand and saw the spot where a finger should reside. And then I could actually see his brain go CHA-CHING because next thing I knew, he shouted at me, ‘I KNEW IT! I KNEW YOU WERE INVOLVED SOMEHOW,’ and then I could see his brain deciding if he was going to go nuts or not. Meanwhile he could not help but blurt out, ‘What happened to your finger?’

  OL snapped to attention and shouted boldly back at Linden, ‘Listen here, chum (said in a non-chummy tone), you leave Lily alone. Do you understand, Bacon Brat!’ She lifted her hand from the hatstand to point her finger at him. At first she dipped and swayed to the ground like a kite without wind but then she straightened herself up, clenched her fist and shook it with ferocity.

  ‘It’s Pig Boy,’ I whispered while trying not to laugh and then I blinked innocently and said, ‘Involved with what, Linden? Please don’t be so erroneous.’

  The pudding head stopped in his tracks and looked rather confused. He had seen a finger do a disco solo and a pretty girl pulled out of a mirror. He had witnessed very good magic, the best kind of magic … magic of epic Harry-Potter-book-seven proportions. He looked bamboozled and then thoughtful … and it really suited him.

  Just then Dad poked his head out the kitchen door and said, ‘What is going on here? He eyeballed Linden in an authoritive way like eyes on you, Sonny Jim.

  But Linden smiled (gasp) at me and said, ‘Touché, Lily, touché.’ (This is a Griffin-ism for you are right, well said or, in this case, well done.)

  ‘Touché to what?’ quizzed Dad. He was obviously shocked that Linden was being nice to me.

  Linden looked at me and opened his mouth to say something when an almighty crack came from the Rosy Room.

  Everyone rushed out of the kitchen and GG thought the ceiling might have fallen down, like it did in the laundry last spring (a plurry nuisance!) but we were not greeted by a big plastery powdery mess at our feet.

  It was the mirror.

  It was vibrating and wobbling like crazy. The aerogrammes that I had left out to read later glided around the room like pretty blue fairywrens. Everyone watched and nobody spoke — very weird for my family.

  I thought for one spooky moment that Mock Cream Beryl was going to pop in but that would have been ridiculous and, as it turned out, completely erroneous. The drawers beneath the mirror rumbled forward and then the middle one — the one I had popped OL’s finger and toe into — flew out and landed at my feet.

  The entire family and Sophie were now crowded into the room. I could see OL’s face glowing out of the large silver door handle. She winked at me.

  Linden hid behind one of the big wingback chairs. Zinnia wailed loudly that the whole day was getting much too much for her and Fern stepped forward and said, ‘Speak to us, o visiting spiritual guide … teach us your ways.’ And even though we had been full of family love two minutes ago, Mum said, ‘SHUTUP FERN — don’t frighten Lily … Lily sweetie, it’s just the house falling off the stumps.’

  Dad shook his head and lifted his glasses before he shouted, ‘THERE ARE NO SUCH THINGS AS GHOSTS!’

  But then the dust cloth l
ifted and twirled up to the ceiling rose and swayed and swished. And everyone’s faces were saying that no amount of termites and old wood could make the sheet dance on the ceiling. I have to say that it was mesmerising, utterly spectacular and beyond frightening. I almost need a new word to describe just this moment. Then the dust cloth fell on Linden’s head and he started screaming. (I would like to say ‘like a stuck pig’ but I am working on my relationship with him. Kind of!)

  Dad pulled him up off the floor and that is when we heard the second crack. It was the mirror — it was splitting into pieces. It was like watching ice break open on a frozen pond (in the movies … sadly there is no snow in Treebark). The glass turned into crazy geometric patterns and then each piece of the pattern started to crumble again until finally the glass was like a sheet of crystals … and then even the crystals became powdery like sand.

  ‘DON’T TOUCH IT!’ I screamed, ‘EDGAR THE POLTERGEIST CREATED A VORTEX THAT TRAPPED OTHER LILY FOR SIXTY-SEVEN YEARS BECAUSE HE WAS SWEET ON LUCY — I MEAN NIMMY!’

  ‘CALM DOWN, LILY,’ shouted Dad in a completely agitated way. (Shouting at someone to ‘calm down’ when they are stressed is plain dumb.)

  The glittery powder started to slide down and I thought once the powder hit the floorboards, we would all be trapped inside grains of powdery mirror. ‘LET’S GET OUT OF HERE,’ I screamed, feeling beyond highly suggestible and steamrolling into highly charged. But as the twinkly powder touched the ground … it disappeared. It just evaporated until soon the whole mirror had vanished and we were left with a very nice frame.

  Something sashayed down from the ceiling and floated to Dad’s feet. He picked it up and cried, ‘It’s Mum’s handwriting,’ as he wiped his tears with the back of his cardigan sleeve. His hand wobbled and a book fell to the ground. Of course, I was the only one with the presence of mind to pick it up.