The Last Girl

by Penelope Evans

  And then it happened. A miracle. One moment I'm gazing across at Ethel, helpless, quivering under the axe, and the next it's just as if someone has switched on a thousand-watt bulb inside my head. It was as clear as that.

  In short, I'm describing the way things look when you shine the Light of Truth upon them.

  Ethel might well ask what I was doing in Mandy's bedroom, but what was to stop me asking her exactly the same question? Because the pure fact of the matter was, she didn't have any more right to be there than I did. In actual fact, she had much less right. And why? Because her only reason for coming in here was to snoop and pry, to touch things that weren't hers, and leave her marks all over them. But me - I was there for a different reason altogether. I was there for Mandy's sake and Mandy's sake only. And that's what gave me the right.

  The effect is like magic. I stand up straight at last and just stare right back at her, as much as to say, 'Fire away, I'm ready for you.'

  Ethel is speechless. Nothing like this has ever happened before, someone turning the tables on her. There was no telling what would have happened next. There's a horrible look in her eye, but I don't flinch, not for a second. My blood was up and I was ready for anything.

  Downstairs in the hall, a door slammed.

  Say no more. We must have been out of that room faster than you could have said knife. Not bad for a couple of OAPs. Mind you it was a full five minutes before I got my breath back. Meantime, downstairs, Ethel is having a go at Gilbert for getting out of his chair without a doctor's certificate - and nearly giving her a heart attack.

  Looking back then, you might say it had all been a bit of a failure. Only that is where you would be wrong. Something very important happened down there in Mandy's bedroom. Today was a turning point. From now on, things are going to be different around here, because I've discovered a way to help Mandy more than she could possibly guess.

  You see, as from today, Ethel isn't going to find it so easy to poke her nose where it doesn't belong. Why? For the simple reason that I'm going to be on the case. The moment Ethel finishes her rounds, I'm going to be straight down there after her. And whatever she touches, whatever she moves, Larry will be there, putting it all back where it belongs. I'll get to know the place like the back of my hand, learn where everything goes. That way, when Mandy comes home, she'll hardly know Ethel's been in. Of course, Ethel herself will know all about it. But what can she say? She can't even lock the doors. Larry's had his own keys since before she ever came. And she's never going to ask for them back. In the event of a fire and ·a locked door, who's going to break it down - Gilbert? Hardly. Who knows then, given all that, as well as our little meeting just now, she might even abandon the visits altogether. But Larry won't. He'll keep on coming, just to be sure, traipsing up and down those stairs for as long as his old legs will carry him.

  And the result of all this? Mandy will be able to call the place her own again. Not that she'll know a thing about it. Because Larry will be going about his work in secret, without thanks, without praise, just doing what friends are supposed to do.

  And one more thing. That letter, the cause of all the trouble; it wasn't very long. Short enough, luckily - or maybe unluckily, depending on your point of view - to take in at a glance, and think about later.

  'Dear Ms Tyson,' was what it said. 'We regret the problems you describe at your present address, but we are unable to offer you anything by way of an alternative at this time. We can only suggest that you count yourself fortunate in the current climate in having anywhere to stay at all. Yours sincerely, etcetera etcetera, University Accommodation Office.

  Or words to that effect.

  Well of course it was a blow. You can see what she's been up to. I could have sworn the old kid was all settled. But I hadn't counted on Ethel, had I? Obviously she's driven the poor girl half out of her mind. They've given her short shrift, though, at that university of hers, telling her to be thankful for what she's got. All the same it's going to keep me awake tonight, knowing she's not a hundred per cent happy. It comes from thinking I must have let her down in some way. Quite clearly, she still doesn't know how much she is appreciated. Otherwise she'd never want to leave.

  It's not something I like to think about, Mandy not happy, down there, by herself. Mandy always on the lookout for somewhere else to live. It's time she knew who her friends are, and fortunately Larry's got just the idea to put her in the picture.

  Chapter Seven

  Mission, as they say, accomplished.

  You can say this about Larry Mann: he's only got to have an idea, and he'll be up and at it, making it happen. In other words, I'd no sooner made up my mind after that little showdown in Mandy's bedroom, than I was reaching for my coat. Not to mention my wallet. I didn't even stop to have my lunch.

  I've been spending money. Not on any old rubbish though, forking out just for the sake of it. Larry knew what he had in mind before he so much as put a foot outside the door. After that, it was just a case of finding the right place.

  Lucky for me - bearing in mind that I hadn't had that bit of lunch - I didn't have to go far. Two stalls up from Harry's pitch to be exact. You can find just about anything there, under the covers where Harry operates. You only need to know where to look. The other side of the coin was I had to go all the way round the world so as to avoid being caught by Harry, but that was no great hardship, considering the time I would be saving.

  You see, there were other things I learned this morning as well, even if it didn't all register at the time. But later on, back upstairs, they were blindingly obvious - a couple of clues about the old kid that were just about as telling as anything she could have put into words. To wit, she's filled those rooms of hers with all sorts of awful junk - postcards, native clothes, books galore - yet she still doesn't have one or two items that most folk simply couldn't do without.

  I'll give you an example. Half the world would never get up in the morning if it weren't for the old alarm clock banging away in their ear. Probably carry on and sleep till noon. But once they are awake, what's the first thing most people reach for, to make up for the fact? The radio, that's what. A little bit of music is a must. Most folk would just roll over and go back to sleep otherwise. What I'm saying is, show me one person who doesn't have a clock or a radio.

  Well, I've found one. None other than our Mandy. Unbelievable, but true. And I tell you what, it explains why she's up at all different times of the day - and then is looking so down in the mouth for the rest of it. The poor girl hasn't got the barest essentials for living!

  So having found this out, what does Larry do? Only march straight out and buy her the two of them combined. In other words - a clock radio. To be serious, it's a lovely little thing. Compact? You've never seen anything like it. And cheap. It's Japanese of course, but what can you do? They all are nowadays, and anyway, so is my organ, but that hardly detracts. The main thing is, it looks as if it cost a bomb. It's all in the design. Anything black, and you're made. To me, though, that's almost the best thing. If you want someone to know they're appreciated, it's no good giving them something that looks as if it just cost a few bob. It's got to look special. Because that's what I want Mandy to know - that she's special, and Larry thinks the world of her.

  So what do you think? Will a girl like Mandy be able to ignore a present like this? Of course she won't. In one fell blow, the old kid is going to know who her friends are, once and for all.

  Mind you, it went to my head a bit, handing over the money and getting such a thrill because of it. I didn't want to put my purse away after. I was a fool to myself really, going around just looking for something else to spend my money on. They can see you coming then. Anyway, all I did was stop to have a listen of the canaries - about fifty of them - singing their little hearts out on the pet stall, and the next thing knew, I was opening my purse again. What you could sincerely call an impulse buy. The man said I should have two, to keep each other company. But I knew what he was up to, and b
esides, I'll be there, won't I - better than another bird any day. Mind you, I hadn't quite banked on the rest - the cage and the feed and the mirror etcetera. On top of all that, another blooming bird would have been almost incidental.

  Still you've got to treat yourself now and then, and we're all home now. He - Joey - is on the organ next to the woodland animals, getting used to his new surroundings. Only trouble is, he doesn't seem too keen on singing at the moment.

  But that's just by the by. The important thing is that right this very minute, sitting on Mandy's kitchen table is one small - or not so small- item that's going to change everything. And if I could have one wish now, it would be to see her face when the old kid gets home.

  Then again, when does anything ever turn out the way you think it will? The answer, in Larry Mann's experience, is never. Yet as the person who knows her best in this house, I really should have suspected it. Never expect the obvious from Mandy.

  There was something odd just in the way she came in this evening, something very unlike the Mandy we've got used to by now. It was there in the way she let the front door slam behind her and then came up the stairs with a racket you'd never think was her. It was as if she was letting on that she was home and didn't care who knew it. And you'll be telling me I'm daft now, but just for those few seconds I found myself thinking that if this was a normal night, and there was nothing waiting for her on the kitchen table, I wouldn't be seeing hide nor hair of her this evening either.

  The funny thing is, though, right at the very top, she stopped, hesitated as if she was listening. It was as if she had sensed for herself that something was up. Then I could almost hear her shrug, open up her kitchen door, and walk in.

  I was in my kitchen at the time, and I can honestly say that for the next three or four minutes I don't suppose I moved a muscle. I stood there with a dishcloth in my hand, straining for the slightest sound from downstairs - such as a squeak, or a squeal even. But that was just it. I didn't hear a thing, not even a whisper. In the end I couldn't bear it any more, and I knew I had to do something, anything, to take the stress out of the waiting.

  Thankfully I had just the thing for occasions like this, and the only silly part was that I hadn't thought of it five minutes ago. I hurried into the lounge and lifted Joey out of the way. A touch of the switch and that wonderful organ of mine shivers into life. Lights glow and there comes the low hum that tells you it's awake and ready to go. The question now is what to play for her, but even that's not hard. A moment later the whole room, the entire house is swinging along to the only song for Mandy, the one that goes: 'If you were the only girl in the world'.

  The effect is instant, magical and romantic. Not that romance figured, naturally. I'm only talking about the music. But the fact is, I forgot about what I'd been listening out for all this time, and gave myself up to the enchantment of the melody. And when that song ended, I launched into another, no! a whole medley off the cuff - of all the old favourites: 'Moon River' and 'Yesterday' and 'Tie a yellow ribbon', while under the music, the organ hummed and winked its lights at me.

  Then suddenly, the mood changed somehow. For no reason at all I had the feeling that I wasn't alone. I stopped playing and turned around. She was standing there, had been for Lord knows how long. I'd been so lost in the music I hadn't even heard her. And don't laugh - it gave me a real jolt, because it was just like a film, where someone plays his heart out for someone else, never realizing she's there all the time.

  Then I saw her face, and before I know what's happening I've braced myself. Her face was wrong. The way I’d imagined things - and imagined them I had, down to the last detail - she was supposed to come running up here, the clock radio clasped in her arms, her face lit up with girlish joy. Well, she had the clock radio all right, but she wasn't holding it. It was there on the coffee table between us, closer to me than it was to her. And of course there was her face. The one thing I could say for sure about that was, girlish joy simply didn't come into it.

  If only she had said something it would have helped. But that was the whole problem. She wasn't saying a word. She wasn't even looking at me not as such. Having someone stare at the level of your cardigan is not the same thing. Just for a second then I had the wild hope that there was simply something nasty on my tie, but of course, when I took a quick peep, there was nothing. Mandy was just being Mandy - only more so.

  And still she wasn't saying anything. I waited and waited, but nothing came out. It was up to me then. Trouble was, I didn't want to be the first. In the end though, there was nothing for it. We couldn't stand there forever.

  'Hello, stranger,' I said. 'What’s this you've got here then?'

  'You know very well, Larry.' Not a hint of a smile. She didn’t even look up. My cardigan was still all that interested her. And that is when I realized that something had gone horribly wrong. But you know how it is when a situation begins to go haywire. You press on anyway, because you can't think what else to do. Trying your best to sound normal and cheerful when everyone else is acting like strangers. Sort of hoping that if you can only carry on regardless, it will all sort itself out ...

  So I said, 'Oh, you must mean the clock radio.' I think I even attempted a chuckle. 'What do you think of it then?'

  And there it was - her last chance to turn all this around. Because that was her cue to say, 'Oh Larry, of course I mean the clock radio. As for what I think about it, what can I say? How can I ever thank you?' Which would have been my cue for all sorts of things.

  But I knew the moment the words were out of my mouth that it wasn't going to turn out like that. She didn't even try to answer me. She just moved forward a little and pushed the radio even closer to my side of the table.

  Which all but did for me. Yet even then it didn't stop me trying to keep things on a level. 'You don't want to do that, Mandy love. It's yours, didn't you know?' Then, laughing to show I was joking, I gave the radio a little push back towards her and said, 'You're not trying to make me change my mind, are you?'

  You know what she did as it came towards her? She jumped back, fast, as if it was all set to bite her.

  Well, that was it. Finally I lost my nerve. 'Oh for Pete's sake, Mandy love, what's got into you? You're going to have me in all sorts of trouble in a moment. When a person doesn't know what to think there's no knowing where it might end. You don't realize what the strain can do to some folk. Say something, won't you?'

  After which I don't know when I've ever heard such a silence. As far as I was concerned though, I'd said all I had to say, I was that distressed. If Mandy didn't speak up, then that would have been all there was to it. There's nothing you can say when someone's refusing to take part.

  As it turned out though, even Mandy couldn't leave it like that, and finally speak up she did.

  'You're very kind, Larry,' I heard her say - just. She was that quiet. She sounded like she needed to clear her throat. 'You're very kind,' she said-again. 'But I'm giving this back, do you understand?'

  Well no, of course I didn't understand. How could I? In a normal world, you give a person the present of their dreams, and they come at you with thanks flying, not this, pushing the present back at you like it was the last thing they wanted.

  'The radio's for you,' I said again. It was all I could say. 'That means you keep it.' It was like trying to explain something for the twentieth time to a backward kid.

  'No, Larry,' she says. Now her voice is fainter than ever. 'It doesn't have to mean I keep it. I've tried to explain before, but this is worse than anything. You're making me feel ...Oh how can I explain?'

  'Try me,' is what I say.

  Two little words, and yet they do the trick. For the first time she looks me in the eye, sees the expression on my face. And this is Mandy we're talking about, remember. And suddenly, out it all comes, enough words for a week. You could see that she had it all planned, but it didn't come out that way. For one thing, she was mumbling and muttering that badly it was just one great jumble. S
he was barely making any sense. But the point was, I'd got her talking.

  It was exactly then that I started to feel a lot better. Give me a Mandy muttering, getting herself all confused, any day. It’s a lot less worrying than the same girl standing there, not saying a word. You don't know what she might have stored up then. But now she'd got started, and what did it amount to? Precisely nothing. All you could see was someone getting herself into a right old state, talking about needing more space, or some such nonsense, as if she thought I could do anything about it. If the old kid felt she didn't have enough room, she should speak to Ethel. In the end, I did what anyone would have done. I put her out of her misery. Interrupted her before she broke down altogether and turned us both into nervous wrecks.

  'Oh cheer up,' I told her. 'What do you want to go making such a fuss for? It's just a little present from Larry, that's all it is. Just take it in the spirit it's given.'

  Harmless enough words, you may think, but you should have seen the effect on Mandy. All of a sudden, she stops her muttering and looks at me, straight in the eye. And shouts. 'Big, little, it's all the same. You keep on doing it, giving me things. It's driving me mad. Can't you see, what you're doing, it's not ordinary?'

  Talk about the mouse that roared! Quite took me by surprise it did, Mandy suddenly upping the volume like that. Naturally, I was taken aback, but one of us had to stay calm. So I kept my cool, looked right back at her and said quietly, and maybe a little sorrowfully, 'I'm not with you, Mandy love. What is it that old Larry's been doing?'

  And that, if I say so myself, was what you could call a reasonable question. Because if she answers that one, what can she do but go ahead with a little list of everything that's been done for her since the very first day she arrived? As for ordinary - well of course it's not ordinary. But imagine, trying to accuse a person of kindness! You'd sound as if you really had gone mad or bad. Of course there are plenty of folk who can throw any number of good deeds back in your face and laugh while they're doing it - I was married to one - but not Mandy. Not my Mandy.