Cecelia Ahern: Girl in the Mirror

Ellie felt someone guide her to a seat where she sat, her stomach sick, while she listened to the sermon. Jeremy with such emotion in his voice, her, the girl, with icy coldness in hers.

After the ceremony, Jeremy came to Ellie.

‘Ellie, are you okay? Lila said you didn’t feel well, that you couldn’t walk her up the aisle.’

Ellie grabbed him by the arm, moved close to his ear, felt her nails dig in to his arm as she tried to hammer the message home. ‘Jeremy listen to me, I know you think I am crazy-‘

‘Of course I don’t think that,’ Jeremy interrupted.

‘Listen.’ She dug her nails in harder. ‘Fifty-two years ago, I looked in the mirror …’ and she told him the story. When she had finished, she heard silence. ‘Test her Jeremy. Just test her, that’s all I’ll say. Do it for me.’

‘Okay, okay, Ellie.’

He didn’t believe her, she knew that he didn’t and she’d known that he wouldn’t, but the seed had been planted and no matter how many years he would spend with this girl, at least he would always have Ellie’s explanation in his head. Maybe some day he would believe it.

It was as though Lila had been standing in the middle of a football stadium without realizing it, because all of a sudden pitch-blackness changed to bright light and she had to adjust her eyes. She was surrounded by people, lots of people she knew and loved. She smiled at them all but her face wouldn’t move. They had cameras in their hands, were smiling at her with fondness but they weren’t looking at her, they were looking at another Lila, the girl, her reflection who was standing in the middle of the dance floor in Jeremy’s arms.

Around her in the darkened space to which she was confined, everything she had spent the past few months organising was reflected back. The white roses on the tables were beautiful, the chairs were decorated with black bows. A black-and-white theme, all to disguise the black fabric that she had had specially made to cover the mirrors. But for some reason they were down on the floor.

And the girl was standing in the centre of the black-and-white dance floor, in Lila’s dress, with her arms wrapped around Lila’s boyfriend - husband now. And he was looking slightly bewildered. And Ellie … poor Ellie was standing among the crowd looking lost.

‘What are you doing, Lila?’ Jeremy asked through gritted teeth.

‘Let’s not fight now, everybody’s staring.’ The girl smiled back.

‘Just tell me, why have you taken the drapes down?’

‘What’s the point in booking the ballroom if we cover up all these beautiful mirrors. I want to see myself.’

‘It’s for Ellie, not for you, you know that.’

‘For who?’

Jeremy stiffened.

Then she laughed. ‘Oh, of course, I know who you mean. How could I forget Grellie.’ She laughed. ‘Grellie, Grellie, Grellie, Ellie. Look, she’ll get over it. She’s acting so oddly today. I think we should take her to the doctor. She’s rambling on about some bizarre things. She might have mentioned something to you.’

‘About what?’

‘About a mirror? Anything like that?’

Jeremy studied her. Felt her coldness. Knew something wasn’t right. ‘I love you, monkey.’

The girl laughed, was confused for a moment, then remembered earlier that morning when Lila had looked in the car mirror and said, ‘I love you too, hippo.’

Jeremy smiled. Looked relieved.

‘Now, let’s dance.’

In the mirror, Lila suddenly felt her arms lift as they wrapped themselves around Jeremy’s neck, though she couldn’t feel him. Then she started to spin. Fast, then faster, round and round, till she felt sick. All around her, faces smiled and she wanted to call out for help, for them to get her out of here, but they weren’t looking at her. Not in the mirror. They were looking at the girl in the centre of the floor.

Once home, Ellie stood in front of the mirror.

‘I’m sorry, my love. I’m so sorry. I would swap places with you but it wouldn’t work. I can’t take your eyes. You would be my reflection and you would look like me. I’ve thought it all through. It won’t work. I’ve called Jeremy over and over, but he’s not answering. They went away, on the honeymoon … Oh my love, I’m so sorry.’

Ellie made plans to make the room prettier. She removed the black drape from the mirror. She added flowers to the room, opened the curtains, cleaned the room, lit the fireplace in an effort to warm up Lila’s cold space, knowing that it wouldn’t work but trying everything regardless. Months went by, Ellie wouldn’t see anybody, she wouldn’t take any visitors, refused to talk to Jeremy. She was afraid they’d take her away, and send her back to that place they locked her away in that very first time … So she stayed alone.

Then one day she had an idea. She wanted to paint the room, so she hired a local painter, took her time researching the local tradesmen. She found the right one.

A young man. Twenty-five years old. Polish, no family in the country.

‘Here’s your tea.’ Ellie placed his mug down on the bedside locker.

‘Thank you.’

‘You’re very welcome. Would you like any more sandwiches? Cakes?’

‘No, thank you, I am full from all of the lovely food.’ He smiled and patted his belly.

‘Good. Do you mind if I ask a favour?’ Ellie said politely.

He stopped painting and put down his brush.

‘Would you please help me to clean this mirror? You seemed to have splashed it with some paint.’

He leaned in close to the mirror, placed a finger to the glass and tried to scrape it with his nail.’

‘Now my love, this is your chance,’ Ellie said.

Lila found herself faced with a young man. No more than twenty-five.

‘What is this?’ he asked, looking around, completely bewildered.

Lila’s eyes were wide.

‘I’m going to ask you a question,’ she said coldly, ‘and you have three chances to say yes …’ She began.

The secret drifted on the breeze like a feather - from the house, over the dandelions, thistles and fuschia, out of the rusting gate, down the coastline and into the village - about Ellie and her new housemate. At first it was thought he was a lodger, a young man helping the old blind woman around the house now that her granddaughter had flown the nest and curiously never returned. A mysterious feud the villagers enjoyed playing guessing games about without so much as coming close to a whisper of the truth. They couldn’t understand the connection between the twenty-five-year-old Polish man and the seventy-year-old woman, but it appeared he brought her to life, and she him, for there they lived until the old woman’s passing, happily together in the big house on the cliff.

It is a beautiful day and she says so. He whistles as he walks alongside her and she hums along happily - a song played on the piano in the bar last night, which stays in their minds, trapped, the melody fluttering around continuously like a butterfly in a jam jar. Her hand in his, his so large his fingers wrap around her entire hand, giving her the appearance of a small child. She is not though, she is the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, has ever touched, has ever smelled. And he tells her so. She smiles, she has heard it a dozen times that morning but it does not annoy her; with each new compliment she glows even more so. He looks at her, with the sun streaming down on her blonde hair and she is lit up, a perfect angel. They walk through Merrion Square hand in hand, listening to the children’s screams of delight, which float on the breeze, swept up from a nearby playground.