by Ayse Hafiza
Everything needed a thorough clean, but it wasn’t bad for being so old. Frank would have happily slept on the floor inside his sleeping bag in front of a roaring fire. The gray walls felt warm, and the glass windows were in good condition even if the metal needed oiling, most of the panes were unbroken. The solid floor needed a rug, and he needed a bed.
Frank almost laughed when he caught himself thinking about a bed, he had slept on cardboard in his sleeping bag and here he was planning on sleeping in a bed like a king. An old dark wooden nightstand was in the corner with a jug and a bowl. He walked over to it and raised the metal bowl in his hands, the paint was chipped ruining its very pretty decoration. His ancestors would have used it to clean themselves in the morning.
As he stood in his house, he realized how very wealthy they must have been. Frank thought about the small stone cottages that he had seen on his way to the house, how their whitewashed exteriors hadn’t been as grand as this house.
He wasn’t sure why he purchased it, he had always known that at some point he would come here. In his quest to learn about his family's past he would have eventually come. Frank had visited Salem in Wales, North Berwick on the other side of Scotland, and all trails had led him here, led him to this house, which he owned and now stood in.
“You should keep this room,” said Sophie as she leaned against the door frame leading into the bedroom. “After all, you deserve something for getting us somewhere safe.”
Frank looked at her, the afternoon sunlight shone through the window in the hallway and illuminated just behind her head, she was a beautiful woman and Frank felt something stir inside. A feeling that he hadn’t known for a very long time, a feeling that on its first indication he suppressed.
The girls ran past in the hall outside, they were playing. The sound of their happiness was like a pat on the back. Frank hadn’t heard the girls play for so very long, he hadn’t heard those noises in the commune. The girls had been forced to behave like adults and forgo their childhoods. He realized it now, they always made sure they were quiet.
He put the bowl back on the dresser. “Are you sure you don’t want it for yourself and the girls?”
Sophie smiled, she knew it was the master bedroom. “Me and the girls are fine in the room at the end of the hall. Besides, I can’t believe that we’ve got a whole room all to ourselves. Thank you.”
He could feel the warmth from her heart, her one question was whether the house was safe, and somehow it was. It was all and more than anything any of them could have hoped for.
“It was the right choice to come here,” said Frank.
She stood straight and smiled at him one more time, then turned away.
“Girls, girls? Come on we need to arrange our room and then I’m going to get dinner arranged for everyone,” announced Sophie calling to her children and announcing her intention to the rest of the commune.
Frank was happy, for the first time in a very long time he had done something right.
They ate the bread and jam that had been left in the kitchen for them and when finished they got to work. They brushed out the ash from the fireplaces to sprinkle over the latrines in the outhouse. Managed to get a semblance of clean looking water after dusty copper piping pushed out brown sludge and they found some candles. Together they sat around the fireplace in the lounge, some on crates for chairs and some on folded clothes stacked on the flagstone floor. They said nothing, instead enjoying that finally they were in a place where they could breath and life was giving them respite.
That night Frank closed his eyes as the embers of fire were burning out, and he fell fast asleep. He knew he was home, the house felt familiar but at a superficial level unfamiliar. He knew it was the memories held in his ancestors’ DNA that made the house feel like his home before it even had any furniture to make it homely.
The knock at the door made his eyes jolt open, and he looked at the fire which was now extinguished. Young Nevaeh was sitting near him.
“Wake up sleepy head,” she said.
The little girl never spoke, and her voice surprised him. He rubbed his eyes in the morning light as once again he took in the handsome stone house that they were in. Frank took a moment to remind himself he was home.
He heard someone speaking to Sophie who had answered the front door, and he wracked his brain to remember her name. Composing himself, he walked over.
“Mrs. Boswell, good morning. Please come in,” Frank greeted the woman as he opened the door wider to allow her entrance. Nevaeh left the room giving the adults space.
His hand gestured toward a crate that sat on the floor, it was the best he could offer in terms of a seat.
She looked at it, and back at him, as a stocky woman he wasn’t sure that she wouldn’t break it, and by the look on her face, she wasn’t either. She decided to stand and talk.
“I brought you the eggs and some of my own butter. You need some furniture in here Frank.”
He smiled, she was stating the obvious.
“Well my knee isn’t aching this morning, so that tells me it will be a bright day. You should open the windows to let the air in and get what you need from the outbuildings.”
“Sorry?”
“Oh, I have rheumatism and I can tell which days it’s going to rain,” said Mrs. Boswell explaining her odd comment. “Will you be coming to the village hall on Saturday?”
“I don’t know,” Frank confessed.
“Well as you probably guessed, we’re a small community and the locals would love to meet you and your friends,” said Mrs. Boswell.
“Sure, why not, although I need to check if the others are planning to come too,” he nodded. Frank knew he had told her his first lie, he was uncomfortable in social settings and knew the chances of attending the gathering were slim.
“So anyway, if I remember correctly the outbuildings have some old furniture, you should look through them and decided what it is that you want to use in the house. I mentioned it to that young lady Stacey. Her and Roger are going to have a look and let me know what else you might need because Mr. Creedy who runs the post office has the ear of the community, I can see what extra furniture the others have. That way you won’t have to live like homeless people inside a house.”
She laughed at her own joke, as Frank glanced to the hallway and caught Sophie’s eye.
“While the weather is good today you should get the furniture out first and give it time to air, then get out and explore the island. Don’t be surprised if everyone knows your name, I was so excited that you were coming that I let it slip to a few people.”
“When was the last time someone lived in the house?” asked Sophie coming into the room and standing in the corner.
“Well. . .” Mrs. Boswell caught Frank’s eye.
“The last owner left us in the 1940’s so the house had been locked up for a while, but to be honest, when I knew you were coming I came in and gave it a quick clean. I would have done a better job if I had more time.”
“Sorry about that Mrs. Boswell,” Frank apologized, he knew he had sprung their arrival on her.
“It’s okay, it was the most exciting thing to happen here in years.”
Frank nodded with a small smile.
“Does the house belong to you Mrs. Boswell?” asked Sophie in a quiet voice.
Again, Mrs. Boswell looked at Frank conspiratorially.
“Yes,” said Frank nodding at her.
“Frank is my distant cousin,” said Mrs. Boswell.
She wasn’t lying about that comment, he could see it in Mrs. Boswell’s aura. She wasn’t lying, somehow the plump lady was telling the truth. Frank looked at her in wonder, how could they have been related. He found himself wanting Sophie to go away so he could ask her more.
“Well, I just wanted to tell you Mrs. Boswell that me and the girls are so very grateful for you letting us stay here, and to you too Frank for opening this house to us. After London, we needed something good to happen, and we’re gr
ateful for everything you’ve done.”
Mrs. Boswell and Frank smiled at her.
“I’ll go and get breakfast started.”
“Yes, there’s fresh milk too and tea bags.”
“Hopefully we’ll have some cups?” said Sophie as she turned to leave the room. “Would you like a cup of tea Mrs. Boswell?”
“No pet, I will get out of your way. I have a few jobs to get done,” said the old woman smiling.
Frank walked with her back toward her car. Now that they were outside and away from the others he took time to actually truly look at the older woman, and in the daylight, he could see she shared facial features with his mom.
“I honestly didn’t know we were related,” Frank said, by way of an apology. “And thank you for covering for me.”
“Say nothing of it, and in a small place like this you’ll find we are all related,” said Mrs. Boswell getting into her car. “Anything you need, let me know.”
She nodded and started the car, lowering the window she looked out at him.
“By the way, I gave the mirror to Stacy to put up in your room. Don’t let the little girls near it,” said Mrs. Boswell, she gave him a dark look and drove away.
All the color in Frank’s cheeks drained away. There was only one mirror he feared. When the red car disappeared beyond the hill, he turned and looked up at the house. Then with slow footsteps and a pounding heart, he walked back inside.
He climbed the stairs with trepidation and walked into his bedroom. It was already hanging on the wall where he knew it had been years before. The mirror, his mirror, had managed to find him. He heard his mom’s words inside his mind, ‘the mirror will find you,’ and it had.
He wanted to back out of the room and run away, but he stood still, transfixed. While he looked at it, he heard her laugh as if she was in his ear, he took a step forward toward the chipped gold varnished wood surround and the lackluster mirror.
“Jane?” he asked.
For a moment he was transported back to his mom and Dad’s house in South London, to the moment he kissed her and realized that he was in love. That moment the mirror had claimed her, and although it happened more than twenty years before, it hurt like a fresh wound. In the mirror he caught a glimpse of her brief smile after decades and then she faded away. Reaching out his hand he used his index finger to outline where her face had been on its surface.
4
Settling In
He couldn’t break his gaze from it. The woman he once loved captured inside somehow, and there it hung on the wall. Gleeful, if it was possible for a mirror to be so. He had been reunited with it, the cursed family heirloom that sat proudly on his wall, where it rested before. Frank could see the image in his mind, the wall its home, the wall in his bedroom.
“What’s that?” asked Heaven standing in the doorway.
“Nothing just an old mirror that Mrs. Boswell gave me,” said Frank jolting into action taking his jacket off and throwing it over the mirror. The older lady, his cousin, had told him not the let the girls near it.
“Heaven? Frank? Come on. . . everyone? Breakfast is ready!” called Sophie from downstairs.
He shooed the young girl out of his room and closed the door. He wanted to put some space between the mirror and himself, but the normalcy of what felt like a family life jarred him.
Frank walked downstairs and into the kitchen to see his friends standing and sitting around a huge wood table. When they weren’t looking for food in the trash, they were thankful for everything before them. Sophie left the cooked food in pots in the middle, there were eggs as well as buttered bread with jam still in jars, with their lids removed. It was a breakfast feast.
He didn’t know how she was able to do it, but Sophie was transforming the house into a home.
Standing at the table, any sense of unease at their new reality vanished as hunger took over. They glanced at each other with smiles as they reached out and began to put food on little mismatched plates. It was amazing to see that even one night in the house had changed the dynamics of the group. At the commune they hardly ate together or spent time with each other, and yet here for a short time they were closer than they had ever been.
Frank could see it, they were starting to bond, they were becoming all they had talked about when they spoke about being a family.
“We’ve found tons of furniture. Roger, Phil, and Paul will start bringing it in and there’s chicken wire too, so maybe we can get a couple of chickens ourselves?” suggested Stacey.
They smacked their lips at the thought of eggs, a nutritious and cheap food that they would have in constant supply, it sounded amazing.
“Please, can we Mommy?” asked Heaven.
Frank looked at her, could he say it? Could he say what was on his mind? He sounded it out in his head as he held his teacup. His courage was elusive.
‘Sorry people there’s a mirror that is haunting me now back in this house. So, I’ve just realized that coming here has been a huge mistake, we aren’t going to live here, you are all on your own. Coming here was a huge mistake.’
He knew if those words escaped his mouth they would never forgive him, then he would lose them all. Every single comrade he had.
“There’s a room in the barn, it’s got a couple of old school chairs inside, that would be a great place for a homeschool,” Stacy suggested to Sophie glancing at Frank as she spoke.
He said nothing. The others had moved in, the longer he let them move in mentally, the harder it would be to get them to leave. All he wanted to do now the mirror had found him, was leave. He had grown up with that object in his house, but he had been oblivious to its awesome power. The mirror had been nothing but one of his mom’s heirlooms, only later had the mirror taken on a significance for his own life. He let out a deep sigh, he needed to say it, and fast. He needed to tell them all they couldn’t stay. He opened his mouth, willing the words to come out, but they betrayed him. He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t say what was on his mind.
“We can grow a herb garden in the back too,” said Stacy.
“Wow, a herb garden. Oh my God, this place is amazing, we’re really going up in the world. Thank you, Frank,” Sophie beamed.
She said the words that they were all thinking. If he said the words that were the tip of his tongue, he would rob them of their dreams of creating a safe environment. Chickens in the back garden, the herb garden, the classroom in the outbuilding.
Now was the time his brain told him. Now. Open your mouth now! His brain screamed at him, but he couldn’t. Instead, he sipped his tea and sat thoughtfully. Mrs. Boswell was his relative and she knew about the mirror, she had kept it safe for him, he could ask her about it. He could ask her if she knew about its power. Maybe, just maybe, she might even know how he could release Jane from it.
Frank was a million miles away as his excited guests got together bringing in furniture and making plans for the various rooms inside, Frank was lost in thought with Jane in his dreams.
His mind trailed back to the thought of her smooth touch, her kiss, she had been perfect for him, she had captured his heart, but then the mirror had captured her. Only his mom at the time knew of its power, and now she was dead. He had known of no one else who knew about the mirror until now. Mrs. Boswell could have answers.
Frank set out of the house, he walked through the long reed-like grass that lined the single-track roads and noted the odd sheep in the field, he walked to where the horizon and the sea met. Wanting to find the woman who was on his mind. A million questions swarmed around his head like a hive of bees, he needed to know how they were related. How was she the estate agent as well as a school teacher? Mostly he wanted to know about the mirror which had managed to find him here of all the places.
He could have walked the other direction until he reached the ferry jetty and run away, his brain was telling him that he should. The mirror had followed him to a remote island of Scotland, and Frank feared it. His Mom told him that he wou
ld fall in love with it, but he didn’t want that to happen. Frank feared love, because of the mirror.
Winds whipped through the grasses, and as Frank stepped further, he heard it. The first time it was in tune with his footsteps, and then he heard it distinct from the sounds that he made. It was the song of the Isle of Eigg, the song which came from the Singing Sands, the beach where the breeze and the sands created a strange acoustic effect, the sound of a song. As a Shaman, he knew the song of a place or person was holy. He stopped walking and listened, not letting his footsteps pollute the noise that pleased his ear. He remembered that song, it was entrenched in his DNA, so much of the island was. He took a deep breath and continued to listen, the sound soothed him and in the song was a message for him. It told him that all was as it should be in the world and the mirror was home and so was Frank.
He disagreed.
Harmony told him he was in the right place, but the fear in his heart was tangible. He had seen her again, that thought stopped him in his tracks. He had seen Jane, she still existed somehow, somewhere.
The white cottage with slate gray roof tiles came into view, its windows much like the ones in his house. Her red jeep parked outside, he knew she was at home. He walked along the road debating with himself each step he took if he was making the right choice.
He knocked on her door.
A young woman with auburn hair opened it, and Frank found himself unintentionally eye level with her chest. He quickly looked up and his gaze locked with hers. Those deep warm brown eyes.
“Audrey?”
She smiled and moved aside, Frank stepped into the cottage with a hair's breadth between them, he moved to the side quickly. The woman gracefully closed the door. Then turned to look at him.
“It’s been over twenty years Frank, and you still remember my name.”