Cathy Glass - The Girl in the Mirror

She continued to look down, waiting for Nick to reappear. A moment later a man stepped from the porch and stooped to pick up more gravel. It wasn’t Nick but her father!

‘What!’ Mandy exclaimed out loud, and tapped on the window to catch his attention. Whatever was he doing here?

Arrested half into the act of picking up another handful of gravel, her father looked up and, seeing her, straightened. He mouthed something she didn’t understand, then he pointed to the front door and she nodded.

Dropping the curtain, she crossed the room and pulled her kimono dressing gown from the top of the dressing screen. What the hell? she thought again as she tied the kimono over her pyjama shorts and T-shirt. Her parents hadn’t been anywhere near her bedsit (or her bohemian lifestyle, come to that) since she’d taken a year off from teaching art to follow her dream of becoming an artist and paint full time. Now, here was her father, throwing gravel at her window to wake her at 6.30 a.m.! Shrugging off the last of her sleep she realized with a stab of panic something had to be wrong, badly wrong. And given it was her father who was here and not her mother, something must have happened to her mother!

Mandy’s heart raced as she ran down the threadbare carpet of the wide Victorian staircase. Arriving in the hall she turned the doorknob and heaved open the massive oak front door. ‘Mum?’ she gasped, searching his face. His expression seemed to confirm her worst fears.

‘No, your mother’s fine,’ he said sombrely. ‘I’m afraid it’s your grandpa, Amanda. He’s taken a turn for the worse.’

‘Oh…’

‘He has left hospital and has gone to your aunt’s. I am going there now.’

‘Oh, oh, I see,’ she said, relief that her mother was safe and well quickly turning to anxiety that dear Grandpa was very ill.

‘I thought, as you’re not working, you’d like to come with me,’ her father continued. ‘Your mother prefers not to go while Grandpa’s staying at your aunt’s.’

This came as no surprise to Mandy for, while her mother got on well with her in-laws, ten years previously there’d been what her father had called ‘a situation’, which had resulted in her parents severing all contact with Aunt Evelyn, Mandy’s father’s sister, and Evelyn’s family. Now, ten years on, and with no contact in the interim, her father was going to his estranged sister’s house! Mandy knew he would never have gone had his father not been ill and staying there; and her mother was still refusing to go.

‘Yes, I’ll come,’ Mandy said quickly. ‘I’d like to. I didn’t realize Grandpa was so ill.’

‘Neither did I. Your aunt phoned late last night.’

As he came in and Mandy closed the door behind him, she tried to picture the stilted conversation that must have taken place between her father and his sister – their first conversation in ten years. She wondered if her mother had spoken to her sister-in-law and decided probably not.

‘Is Grandpa very ill?’ she asked once they were in her room.

‘Your aunt said so,’ her father said stiffly.

‘So why is he at Evelyn’s and not in hospital?’

‘He was in hospital but your aunt had him discharged. She said she could look after him better at her home than the hospital could. Your gran agreed. She’s staying at your aunt’s too.’

‘I see, and what have the doctors said?’ Mandy felt fear creeping up her spine.

‘I’m not sure; we’ll find out more today.’ He thrust his hands into his trouser pockets and shrugged. ‘I don’t know, perhaps your mother was right and Evelyn is being hysterical, but I have to go and see him just in case…’

Mandy decided to make do with a quick wash rather than her normal shower so she turned on the hot tap, which produced its usual meagre trickle of lukewarm water. ‘Sit down, Dad,’ she said. ‘You haven’t seen my bedsit before. What do you think?’

In the mirror above the basin she saw him cast a gaze over the 1950s furniture, which had clearly given good service. He gave a reserved nod. ‘Is all this yours?’

‘No, it came with the room. Apart from that Turkish rug. And I bought a new mattress for the bed.’ She squeezed out the flannel and ran it over her face and neck. ‘Would you like coffee?’

‘No, thank you. I had one before I left.’

Taking the towel from the rail, she patted her face and neck dry and then crossed to the chest of drawers where she took out clean underwear, trainer socks and T-shirt. Collecting her jeans from where she’d dropped them on the floor the night before, she disappeared behind the Japanese-style dressing screen. In one respect it was just as well Adam had gone off in a huff the night before, Mandy thought. It would have been embarrassing if her father had come in to find him in her bed. But she was sorry she’d behaved as she had and if Adam didn’t phone as he said he would she’d phone him – and apologize.

‘Is Mum OK?’ she asked from behind the screen.

‘Yes, though she’s worried about your grandpa, obviously. She sends her love.’

‘And how are Evelyn and John?’

There was a pause. ‘Your aunt didn’t say much really.’

‘I guess it was a difficult call for her to make.’

Through the gap between the panels of the hinged dressing screen, Mandy could see her father. He was sitting in the faded leather captain’s chair, hunched slightly forward, with a hand resting on each knee and frowning.

‘By the way Evelyn spoke,’ he said indignantly, ‘you’d have thought I hadn’t seen my father in years. I told her I’d have visited him in hospital again if he’d stayed.’ Mandy heard the defensiveness and knew the peace between her father and his sister was very fragile indeed and only in place to allow them to visit Grandpa.

Dressed in jeans and T-shirt, she stepped from behind the dressing screen and crossed the room. She threw her kimono and pyjamas on to the bed and went to the fridge. ‘I’m nearly ready, I just need a drink. Are you sure you don’t want something?’

‘No thanks.’ He shook his head.

The few glasses she possessed were in the ‘kitchen’ sink, and to save time, and also because she could in her own place, she drank the juice straight from the carton. ‘Ready,’ she said, returning the juice to the fridge. She wiped her mouth on a tissue and threw it in the bin.

Her father stood and followed her to the door. ‘Have you painted many pictures?’ he asked, nodding at the empty easel.

Mandy saw the broken paintbrush and wondered if he’d seen it too. ‘Yes,’ she lied. She took her bag from the hook behind the door and threw it over her shoulder. ‘Yes, it was the right decision to give up work. I have all the time in the world to paint.’ Which was true, but what she couldn’t tell him or Adam – indeed could barely admit to herself – was that in the seven months since she’d given up work she’d painted absolutely nothing, and her failure in this had affected all other aspects of her life. So much so that she’d lost confidence in her ability to do anything worthwhile, ever again.

Checking her mobile, Mandy got into her father’s car. There was no message from Adam but he would only just be up. She fastened her seatbelt as her father got in. On a weekday Adam left his house at 7.30 a.m. to catch a train into the City. Her heart stung at the thought of how she’d rejected him and she now longed for the feel of his arms around her. Bringing up a blank text she wrote: Im rly rly sorry. Plz 4giv me. Luv M, and pressed Send. She sat with the phone in her lap; her father started the engine and they pulled away. A minute later her phone bleeped a reply: U r 4given. C u l8r? A x. Thank God, she thought. She texted back: Yes plz. Luv M. Returning the phone to her bag, she relaxed back and looked at the road ahead.