by Cathy Glass
Mandy crossed the road and paused by the churchyard for a better view of the church. When Gran and she were alone, she decided, she would ask her about Mrs Pryce’s departure, which might possibly also give her some clue as to why her own visits had stopped. Mrs Pryce had said she’d left Evelyn’s service ten years ago, which was the same time she’d been stopped from visiting Sarah. Mandy wondered if the two events could be connected in some way, though she’d no idea how. Try as she might she couldn’t remember anything that might have led to ‘the situation’, as her father called it, and Mrs Pryce didn’t seem the type to be responsible for any bad feeling. Finishing the chocolate bar, she screwed up the wrapper and dropped it into the bin by the entrance to the churchyard, then gazed up at the church spire set against the azure sky. She narrowed her eyes, straining to capture the sharpness and detail in her mind’s eye with the hope of trying to sketch it later.
Mandy knew the moment Mrs Saunders answered the door something was different. Something wrong? ‘Let me take your coat, miss,’ she flustered. ‘Go straight through to the study, please.’
She quickly passed her jacket to the housekeeper as Evelyn called from the study: ‘Mandy, is that you? Come in quickly.’
She heard the urgency in her aunt’s voice and, fearing the worst, rushed down the hall and into the study. To her amazement and absolute delight Grandpa wasn’t in pain, his condition having worsened as she feared, but was propped up in bed on a mountain of pillows, wide awake and smiling at her.
‘Grandpa!’ she cried, dropping her handbag and carrier bag by the door. ‘You’re awake!’ She nearly ran to the bed, and kissed his forehead. ‘Grandpa,’ she said again delightedly, pressing her cheek against his. ‘It’s so good to see you.’
‘Hello, love. How are you?’ His voice was slow and rasping. It was obviously a lot of effort to speak, but he was awake and talking!
‘I’m fine, Grandpa,’ she said, perching on the bed. ‘I’m so pleased you’re awake. I’ve been for a little walk to the village. How are you?’
‘Could be better,’ he slowly rasped, and managed a small chuckle. Someone had given him his glasses and they hid his sunken eyes, which made him look more like he used to before his illness.
‘He’s so much better,’ Gran said. She was sitting in her usual chair by the bed, with Grandpa’s hand in hers. ‘He woke and asked for something to drink earlier.’
‘That’s fantastic,’ Mandy said. She glanced at Evelyn, who was standing just behind her.
‘He came round about fifteen minutes ago,’ Evelyn said. ‘I was hoping you’d be back in time to see him. But I’ve warned Gran not to expect miracles. He’s still very poorly.’
All right, Mandy thought, we know he’s very ill but we can at least enjoy this moment. She placed her hand on his arm and gently stroked the dry and paper-thin skin. ‘So, Grandpa,’ she joked, ‘what have you been up to in my absence?’
‘Not much,’ he rasped, and then gave a small congested laugh. ‘Won’t be running the marathon this year, love.’ He laughed again. ‘How about you? Painted that masterpiece yet?’
‘Not yet, but when I do you’ll be the first to see it.’
He smiled and his red and watery eyes focused on her. ‘Paint a picture of me, will you, Mandy?’ he said, suddenly serious. ‘And give it to your gran. Something to remember me by when I’m gone. But not like this. Paint one of me young and handsome – when she fancied me.’ He stopped, exhausted.
Mandy felt her eyes well, and swallowed hard. She also felt a sudden wave of panic at what she was being asked. ‘I haven’t painted a portrait since I was at Uni,’ she said. ‘But I’ll try. I promise I’ll try, for you.’
‘Thank you,’ he said quietly. ‘You used to paint lovely portraits. I remember the one you did of your mum.’ A smile crossed his lips and his eyes slowly closed.
‘Mum and Dad are coming later today,’ Mandy said quickly, willing him to stay awake. ‘I hope you’ll be able to see them.’
There was a long pause, and then he took a deep breath, summoning the strength to answer. His eyes briefly flickered open. ‘I hope so too, love,’ he said. His voice drifted off and his eyes closed.
‘Grandpa?’ Mandy said, rubbing his arm. ‘Grandpa, stay awake. I love you so much. Please stay and talk to us.’
But his eyes remained closed and his breathing deepened as he once more lapsed into unconsciousness. His head slowly lolled to one side. ‘Grandpa?’ she tried again, but there was nothing; he could no longer hear them.
Evelyn came forward and removed his glasses, folding them into the case. ‘It was nice he was awake long enough to see you,’ she said. ‘He asked for you as soon as he came round.’
They were supposed to be words of comfort, but they made the pain worse. She stood up and fled the room. Hurrying down the hall she went into the cloakroom and locked the door so she could cry in private. Dear Grandpa; she loved him so very much. She really couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. He and Gran had been such a large part of her life, for as long as she could remember. She’d always had a special bond with her grandpa; they were similar in many ways and shared the same view on life and sense of humour. Her parents had often said she took after her grandpa, and the thought of never seeing him again was more than she could bear. Of not being able to speak with him on the phone again, or pop in on the off chance and see his face light up at her surprise visit, or share a joke or discuss politics, which he loved. It surely couldn’t all end here. And although her rational mind told her he was very old and everyone had to die some time, her heart wasn’t ready to let go. ‘Damn and blast!’ she said angrily. ‘It’s not fair.’
Taking a tissue from the floral box on the dressing table, she blew her nose, then looked at her face in the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot, her skin was red and her brow was knitted with pain. But as she looked in the mirror it wasn’t her reflection she saw but that of a young girl with fair hair, her expression frightened and her cheeks wet from crying. Mandy stared at the image, horrified yet mesmerized, willing the girl to go away but at the same time needing her to stay. She held her gaze, looked deep into her eyes and saw her pain and sorrow. It was the same girl she’d seen in her father’s car and in the dreams she’d had in the study. Not taking her eyes from the mirror she reached out and touched the glass. The girl vanished.
Burying her head in her hands she cried openly – for Grandpa, and for whatever had happened in the house.
Twelve
Fifteen minutes later Mandy pulled herself together. Drying her eyes, she checked her face in the mirror and returned to the study, hoping no one would notice she’d been crying. There was only Gran in the study and she was dozing in the chair beside the bed and Grandpa, while restless, was asleep. Mandy took the sketch pad and pencil from the carrier bag, sat in the armchair, and with determined effort began drawing the outline of the church, more for distraction than from any real desire to draw. Concentrating on the delicate lines of the steeple began to direct and channel her thoughts. The girl in the mirror and all her unhappiness faded.
Gran woke and Mandy told her she’d seen Mrs Pryce who sent her best wishes. ‘Thank you,’ Gran said, nodding thoughtfully. Mandy was about to ask her why Mrs Pryce had left and if it had anything to do with her own visits stopping but Evelyn popped in to check on Grandpa. In fact Evelyn was in and out of the study all morning so there was no chance to talk to Gran. Evelyn seemed nervous and Mandy guessed it was because her parents were expected later that afternoon, when she would be meeting her sister-in-law for the first time in ten years.
They had lunch in the morning room while the nurse visited and then returned to the study. Gran dozed, Mandy continued with the sketch, and then a little after 3 p.m. Mandy heard the door chime. She wasn’t expecting her parents until later and remained in the study, but suddenly Evelyn was showing them in. ‘Mum, Dad!’ she cried, standing to kiss them.
‘How are you, love?’ her mother asked, concerned.<
br />
‘Not bad. I’m glad you came.’
‘How are you, Mum?’ her mother asked, turning to Gran.
‘Mustn’t grumble. I’m pleased you felt you could come here, Jean. It means a lot to Will and me.’
Her mother smiled, then looked properly at Grandpa for the first time. Mandy saw the shock on her mother’s face and she joined her at the bed. Evelyn hovered for a moment and then left, closing the study door behind her.
‘The housekeeper is taking your case up to your room,’ her father said, still not looking at Grandpa. ‘I remembered your phone charger, and your mother packed some clothes.’
‘Thanks. Was everything all right at the flat? I feel like I’ve been away for weeks, not two days.’
‘It looked fine. There were a couple of letters for you and those are in your case too. Let me return your keys before I forget.’ Delving into his trouser pocket he handed the keys to her. ‘How’s Grandpa been?’ he said, finally looking at the bed.
‘Up and down. Last night was bad, but he was awake earlier and recognized me. I told him you were coming this afternoon.’
He nodded, obviously pleased, and they both looked at the bed. In sleep Grandpa’s head lolled to one side and his mouth hung open, causing his hollow cheeks to look even more pronounced.
‘He’s lost so much weight,’ her mother said quietly, clearly still shocked by his deterioration. ‘Three weeks ago he was digging the garden, getting it ready for spring. Now…’ She stopped as her voice faded. Gran touched her arm reassuringly. ‘Can we wake him?’ her mother asked after a moment. ‘I’d like to talk to him.’
‘It’s not that kind of sleep,’ Gran said. ‘It’s more unconsciousness – due to the morphine and also because he’s just drifting off.’ Mandy heard the phrase ‘drifting off’ and knew what Gran was really trying to say, and the word they were all carefully avoiding. ‘He had his last injection at midday,’ Gran continued, patting Grandpa’s arm. ‘They’re every four hours. He was in so much pain, John spoke to the nurse and had the dose increased. John has been very good; I don’t know what we’d have done without him.’ Mandy saw her mother tense at the praise for John. ‘Have you seen John?’ Gran asked.
‘Evelyn said he was at work,’ her father replied, while her mother said nothing.
‘Hopefully he’ll be back before you leave,’ Gran said. ‘It would be nice for you all to be friends again. It would make Grandpa happy.’
‘I thought I did all right yesterday, considering,’ her father said, childlike in his defence.
Gran gave a small reserved nod.
‘Considering what?’ Mandy asked, and heard the silence.
‘Oh, nothing,’ her father said after a moment, and changed the subject.
They stayed in the study for the next three hours but Grandpa didn’t wake. He slept fitfully, occasionally calling out in his sleep but didn’t regain consciousness. Mandy was relieved at one level, for had he woken in pain it would have been dreadful for her parents to have witnessed, but if he’d woken pain-free, as he had done that morning, it would have been wonderful – a memory they could have taken with them. As it was they sat by his bed, just spending time with him and chatting to Gran. ‘I think he’s had too much morphine,’ her father said.
‘Better a little too much than not enough,’ Gran said.
John didn’t return during the afternoon so there was no opportunity for Gran’s hope of John and Jean meeting and all ‘being friends again’. Her parents stayed until 6 p.m. and then politely, refusing Evelyn’s offer to stay to dinner, her father said, ‘We need to be getting on the road,’ and her mother agreed.
They said goodbye to Grandpa then they all went to the front door, where they hugged and kissed. ‘Drive safely,’ Gran said.
‘Take care,’ Evelyn added with warmth.
‘I’ll come again at the weekend,’ her father said. ‘Thanks again, Mandy, for all you’re doing.’
‘I’ll phone if there’s any change,’ Mandy reassured him.
After they’d gone, Evelyn disappeared upstairs while Mandy returned to the study with Gran. She helped settle Gran in her usual chair beside the bed and then checked her phone which was charging on the socket by the desk. Five minutes later John appeared, still in his suit, apparently having just returned from the office.
‘Sorry I missed your parents,’ he said to Mandy. ‘How’s Grandpa?’
‘He slept all afternoon,’ Mandy said. ’Mum and Dad said they were sorry to have missed you too.’
Gran threw Mandy a small appreciative smile, then said to John: ‘Ray thinks Dad might be having too much morphine. Apart from quarter of an hour this morning he hasn’t been awake at all today.’
‘I doubt it,’ John said tersely, ‘but I’ll speak to the nurse this evening. Now I need to shower and change before dinner.’ Mandy wondered if he’d taken her father’s comments personally – everyone in the house was so sensitive. It crossed her mind to say something and try to explain but decided it was better just left.
The routine of her first evening in the house was now largely repeated for the second. They ate at 7 p.m. and then Gran and she returned to the study until Evelyn came in with Gran’s Ovaltine at 8.30. At nine o’clock Evelyn helped Gran to bed, then John reappeared in the study. ‘Mandy, do you feel up to doing the night shift again?’ he asked. ‘Evelyn could do with the rest.’
Mandy had assumed she would be doing the ‘night shift’ again, and although tired hoped that as Grandpa was more peaceful she’d be able to sleep in the armchair, or failing that take a nap the following day. ‘Of course,’ she agreed.
Evelyn went to bed once she’d seen Gran up and then shortly before 10 p.m. the nurse arrived on a new schedule to give Grandpa his injection. Mandy thought she would take the opportunity while the nurse was there to go upstairs and sort through the suitcase her parents had brought. Mrs Saunders had taken it to the bedroom she was using. Opening the case she found her mother had done a good job in choosing which clothes to pack: three pairs of jeans, an assortment of tops, underwear, slippers, her kimono dressing gown and clean pyjamas. She opened the two letters her father had mentioned: a bank statement and a circular from her local art centre detailing forthcoming events. Returning the letters to the case she went into the guest bathroom where she washed and brushed her teeth ready for her night in the chair; she’d shower again in the morning. When she came out she found the main lights were off and the landing and stairs were again lit by nightlights, John presumably having locked up after the nurse had left. She made her way down the staircase, past the lamp on the onyx table in the hall and to the study where the lava lamp was once again the only light. John was in his usual armchair and concentrating on his laptop. Grandpa was on his back, asleep, breathing very slowly and heavily.
‘The nurse said the dose is right,’ John confirmed without looking up. ‘I don’t think your father or Gran has accepted the inevitable yet.’
‘No,’ Mandy agreed, and wasn’t sure she had fully accepted the inevitable either.
She sat in the other chair and unplugging her phone from the charger – the battery was full – she checked for messages. There were four texts; two from Adam asking if she was all right, and she suddenly realized with everything going on she’d forgotten to return his call from the morning when the battery had gone flat. It was a bit late to phone him now. He’d be on his way to bed with work the following morning. She quickly texted: Sorry. im ok. mum n dad visited. ill call tmrrw. luv&miss u xxx.
‘Boyfriend?’ John asked, glancing up with a smile that invited intimacy.
‘Yes,’ she said non-committally.
‘Serious?’
‘Possibly.’ She wasn’t going to be drawn into discussing her relationship with Adam.
‘Sarah’s living with her partner, Simon,’ John offered. ‘He’s got a good job in finance. Hopefully you’ll meet him when they visit.’
‘That would be nice.’ Mandy smiled, and concentrate
d on her phone.
John returned to his laptop; Mandy answered the texts and then closed her phone and dropped it into her bag. She rested her head on the chair-back and allowed her eyes to close. The warmth of the room soon combined with the soothing red glow of the lava lamp and she began to doze. Grandpa’s slow and heavy breathing continued in the background with the tap tap tap of John’s laptop close by. Some time later she awoke with a start and was already out of her chair and going towards the bed before she heard John’s voice: ‘Don’t worry, Mandy, I’ve seen to him. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.’ Mandy looked over. John had just opened the study door and was about to go out. In his hand was the plastic bottle, now containing a small amount of dark orange urine. ‘Sorry,’ he said again. ‘He needed a wee. I’m just going to empty this.’
She nodded and John left.
With her heart racing from suddenly waking Mandy remained where she was in the middle of the room and looked at Grandpa. He was on his back, his breathing still light from having recently woken. She felt a pang of regret that John hadn’t needed her help and woken her, for it was a missed opportunity to tell Grandpa her parents had visited. Any opportunity to talk to him was precious and it was impossible to know when the chance would come again – or, indeed, if it would.
Stiff from sleeping in the chair, she flexed her arms and rolled her head from side to side; her neck clicked. She’d no idea of the time or how long she’d been asleep. John’s laptop was open on the coffee table with the screensaver coloured boxes flying across the screen. Instinctively, without thinking, as she would have done at home to check the time if her laptop was on, she reached down and drew the cursor towards the time icon in the lower right-hand corner of the screen. As her fingers touched the mouse the screensaver vanished and in its place was a photograph of a child, aged about three or four and completely naked. The photo automatically enlarged to fill the screen. It was her.