A Different Reflection

by Jane L Gibson

  “Oh this should be interesting!” I heard a voice say.

  “Are you alright, Katharina? I think you had quite a shock then!” George asked me. I blinked a couple of times, looked at him and then at the mirror to my side, only to see the same young dishevelled man still staring at me. I quickly scooted up closely to George, who laughed lightly. “It really is alright, you have nothing to fear, it is only James that you see before you!” I stood after looking at George and realising that he was encouraging me to take a good look. Then I continued to stare for some time at the man in front of me. He looked agitated and placed his hands on his hips with frustration. “Give her a moment, James!”

  “Well say something, please; it is highly frustrating not knowing what you think!” The man in the mirror then said to me. I took a step closer, as did he, and touched the mirror. Even though he was dishevelled and his hair was long, there was no mistaking those blue, alluring eyes. I gasped, stepped back and then ran down the hallway and toward the staircase. “You see – I didn’t even really say anything George and she’s going!” I heard him exclaim with annoyance.

  “Great, another chance lost. Katharina, wait!” I heard George shout after me.

  I raced down the staircase and across the entrance into the long hall that held the many portraits I had looked at with George. After turning on the lights and rushing up to the portrait of James Aldersley, aged twenty-five years, I stood there and tried to calm my breathing. Not taking my eyes off the picture, and as George caught up with me and stopped at my side, gasping, I asked the only question that popped into my head. “What kind of trickery is this?”

  George, still gasping, replied between breaths. “No trickery. I swear that I was telling you the truth, Katharina!” he replied as he bent over and held his knees. I reached out and rubbed his back.

  “Are you alright?” I asked him. He held his hand up whilst he caught his breath to acknowledge that he was alright.

  “He’ll be fine, it’s just far too many years of doing not an awful lot!” The voice from before suddenly said. I looked to the mirror further along from the portrait and reluctantly went over to it to find a very nervous-looking James Aldersley. “You promise you will not scream or faint at the sight of me this time?” he asked.

  I shook my head and stared at him, then the portrait, then back again. “I cannot believe that this is true,” I then said as I found my voice.

  “Well I am standing right here!” James replied as he looked at himself. He then ran his fingers through his hair and straightened himself up a little bit. “I do apologise about my appearance, though; I wasn’t expecting that you would see me so quickly!”

  “You have been stuck within these walls for 264 years?” I asked.

  “Unfortunately, yes, but I have had the privilege of having George for company,” he replied as he looked to him, realising that he had now straightened up again and caught his breath.

  I turned and looked at George, who gave me a very pleading look, silently begging me to believe him. I laughed, then shook my head. “Well you’re not boring, I’ll give you that!” I sarcastically replied, and then walked across to a chair, sat in view of the mirror and portrait and sighed heavily. “Oh sweet Mary and Joseph, my mother always told me there was magic in the world. I thought she was just keeping my childhood fantasies alive.” I placed my head in my hands and growled. “Well unless I want locking up in an asylum for the mentally unbalanced, I cannot really be printing this story, can I? No one in their right mind will believe me – particularly my editor. Then there’s the creepy strange people that may try camping out here or breaking in, which in the grand scheme of things is not going to help you two at all!” I announced as I looked up to find both of them looking at each other. “What?” I asked them.

  “You mean, you’re not going to run? And you believe us?” George asked hopefully.

  “Well, unless this is the work of Steven Spielberg, or a reality television programme, the evidence is kind of staring me in the face, isn’t it?” I replied.

  “Steven who? And what programme?” James asked. Both George and I found ourselves laughing uncontrollably at James’ remark; he had obviously not been too bothered about keeping up with many relevant things of today. “What’s so funny?” he asked with irritation as I tried to stop laughing.

  “I need coffee!” I announced as I stood and walked out to the hall. I thought about the magnitude of what they had told me. Everything that I had believed as a child, that I had convinced myself was fantasy and fairy tale, was actually very real – and here with me right now. James appeared in the mirror next to me in the entrance hall as I thought deeply about the whole situation, making me jump. “Will you stop doing that?” I snapped.

  “What? I am walking that is all!” he gestured.

  “Appearing without any warning! I am not as used to this as George! Anyway, how are you doing that?” I then asked as I walked to the mirror and tried to look down into it and beyond.

  “What, walking? I have feet!” he sarcastically replied as he lifted them one at a time to show me.

  “Oh, we have a comedian! Not walking, you arse! Moving from one mirror to another!” I stated with as much sarcasm.

  “Oh, this is going to be so interesting. She isn’t going to let you get away with anything, you know!” George laughed as we bantered.

  “I’m not sure. I can walk on this side of the mirror, like you can the rooms on your side. They are whole, and as I walk I move to another window – well, mirror to you. I see them as a window looking out into Northfield,” he replied informatively.

  “That must be so weird for you. I cannot imagine how frustrating it must be to be able to see your home as you left it, but not really be here!” I replied before carrying on walking.

  We arrived at George’s apartment and I found myself quickly looking around for a mirror. A tall one faced the island at which I sat and when James appeared in it I smiled. “I’m not sure that I will ever get used to that!” I announced.

  “Oh trust me, you will. He’s like an extra shadow. You just have to remember that for everyone else he isn’t there!” George then announced.

  “So, does this mean that I am pure of heart? That would please my mum immensely!” I then prompted George.

  “Well, the spell was only to be visible to those who are. Trust me, you do not meet that many these days!” He winked at me.

  George passed me a steaming mug of coffee and placed a plate of biscuits alongside. He suggested that I have one to give me a sugar kick after the adrenaline rush that I had just experienced. “So, do you have any more questions?” George then asked.

  “Oh, plenty! I just don’t know where to start!” I announced as I sipped the coffee.

  “How about the whole ‘witch’ thing – was it a shock to discover? You know, to know that they exist?” James suddenly said.

  “Trust you to fall for the oldest trick in the book… beauty handed to you on a plate usually suffers some consequence in all fairy tales. I actually admire the fact that the ‘witch’, Alice, gave you some time to reflect on you and the self-destructive person you were!” I replied honestly.

  “That’s a little unfair; I didn’t ask to be left like this. I treated her well whilst I was with her!” James tried to justify.

  “I do not think it was her intention to leave you that way for fifty years, either; I think that she maybe would have tried twenty years – long enough for everyone you knew to leave you behind. I think that she would have broken the spell then; I have a feeling that she loved you too much!”

  “Well, I wish that she would have just talked to me!” James sarcastically replied.

  “Would you have listened?” I asked.

  “No he wouldn’t have!” George then answered. James shot him a look of disapproval.

  “How did you find out about her being caught and killed?” I shivered at the thought. “That must have been horrific for her to deal with!”

  �
�She was a witch! What else was to be done?” James snapped.

  “James!” George sternly replied, with the tone of a father. It made me smile. “I searched for her for twenty years. Margaret asked me to try and find a way of resolving the spell; she found it difficult to be separated from James. When Margaret died about eight years after James found himself in this situation, I carried on searching. It was only when I travelled to Yorkshire and visited many places that I found out about Alice. I didn’t want to really believe it myself, but she lived in a small village near a place called Pendle Hill, and it has in its past been renowned for witchcraft and witch hunts. The poor girl wasn’t even thirty-five years old; she had changed her name to Eliza, but it was confirmed that it was her and it was too late, there was only one other way now!” George sipped his coffee. He had made an extra cup and James turned around and from his side of the mirror picked up a mug that looked exactly the same, although the one in front of us still remained where it stood. George looked at me, then the mug. “It takes a while to get used to how things work. It took us years to understand,” he then confirmed. I nodded in reply.

  “It also took George another two years to tell me about Alice!” James then stated angrily.

  “Well, how could I tell you that the easiest resolution was no more?” George shrugged.

  “I find it hard to believe that in all this time, you still have not managed to convince a woman that you love her by word alone? I mean, you’re handsome, have a great home and are obviously wealthy. Why are you still trapped?”

  “The spell was never about that! It wasn’t about James’ wealth, assets or good looks. It was about self-respect, and respect for others, and above all love and loyalty. You cannot love someone if you are not loyal to them and respect them whole-heartedly!” George announced. I raised my eyebrows.

  “Well, I can’t argue with that!” I smiled. “You still haven’t managed that?” I asked, as I looked James. He held his head low.

  “I know that my behaviour was unforgiveable, and my treatment of the women I had liaisons with unforgiveable also. I have had time to think about all of the things that I should have done, but did not. I have had time that no man ever chooses to have to reflect on my actions, and I can assure you that I am truly sorry. I have now convinced myself, however, that I do not deserve to be loved by any woman, nor I to love anyone in return after what I have done. My mother was right; she always said: ‘You can never love anyone until you let go of the sorrow in your heart and love yourself!’ I was too busy blaming the world for the loss of my father and the loneliness of my mother, when all along I could have been the solution to a happier family, one in which my mother could have been proud of me. Trust me, when she died alone, and I could not reach her, I knew the error of my ways; but it was too late. I do not deserve a second chance!” he said with a tear in his eye.

  “Well, speak for yourself!” George then said. “I want to grow old and relax and live a little, instead of watching your sorry face for eternity!” he smiled.

  “Always one to bring me back down to earth George!” James replied.

  I could easily see that they had a close relationship, albeit physically separated. George had almost become a second father to James, and I know that even though he did not say it, he was very grateful for his sincerity and commitment. I rubbed my face and finished my coffee and then realised I needed my bed.

  “Alright, gentlemen, I really need some beauty sleep. It is four in the morning and I am exhausted. So we will talk more tomorrow at breakfast!” I announced as I stood. Both George and James stood too.

  “You promise that you will not run during the night?” George asked.

  “George, I think fainting is enough for one night. If I had wanted to run, I would’ve gone a long time ago. Besides, you have an alarm that is better than a guard dog watching my every move!” I joked as I gestured to James.

  “I need sleep too!” he was quick to say.

  George kissed me on the cheek and bid me goodnight, and as I turned and left the room, James also called goodnight. I held up my hand in the air without turning to acknowledge him. Maybe I would wake up tomorrow and this would all be a dream? I did laugh though as I walked away and I heard James ask George, “What the hell does she mean I’m like a guard dog?”

  George simply replied, “Goodnight James.”

  Chapter Eight

  I woke and rubbed my eyes, knowing that it was later than I had expected to sleep. As I reflected on the conversation and revelations of last night, I sat up quickly and looked around, trying to convince myself it was a dream but knowing all too well that it was not. My biggest worry now was how I could do a piece for the magazine on this. I knew for a fact that I wasn’t going to be able to print the truth. Firstly, I would have to make the whole world believe what I had experienced, and then secondly – if anyone did believe me – I was going to scare everyone to death with the notion that witches and magic exist! I sighed heavily and stretched, then climbed out of bed just as my phone vibrated on the dressing table. It was John calling me.

  “Morning sleepy head, it’s eight forty-five, I thought that you would be on the way back to the city now!” he enquired.

  “No not yet. I didn’t sleep too well!” I replied despondently.

  “Why? What on earth happened?” John then asked, with a tone of worry. I perked up, trying not to let him in on any idea of something being wrong.

  “Nothing. It thundered, there was lightning and it rained torrentially here last night and the combination kept me up!” I announced convincingly.

  “Ah okay, I thought that something bad had happened,” he confirmed, but before I could reply he then asked the question I had been dreading: “so, did you get your story?” I closed my eyes and grimaced, trying to think quickly of an acceptable answer.

  “Well, there is sort of a story, but I don’t think that it’s front-cover material. I may have to look elsewhere!” I told him.

  “That’s a shame, babe. Never mind, I told you he was probably a dead end and just a lonely old fool!” he commented harshly.

  “Don’t say that about George. I really like him!” I snapped.

  “Okay, okay. Don’t get so touchy, darling. I suggest you go and ask George for a cup of coffee – I think that you need one!” he then stated to my annoyance. “I will see you tonight then?” he asked.

  “Yes, see you later on!” I replied, then quickly ended the call before I said something that I would really regret.

  “You seem angry! Everything alright?” a familiar voice then asked. I turned to the large mirror at the end of my bed and there stood James.

  “Fine!” I quickly replied as I looked down at my pyjamas and decided that I probably wasn’t looking too great. He smiled at my obvious observation. “I’m not sure if this is appropriate, James, you know, you turning up in my bedroom unannounced. I mean, I could have been undressing or something!” I informed him. He quickly realised that he had made it very awkward for me.

  “Why, of course. I do apologise, Katharina. I simply came to tell you that breakfast is ready if you want to join us?” he kindly asked, as he made an attempt to turn away from me in my nightclothes. It made me smile; it wasn’t like I was indecently dressed, and he had seen me the night before, but I was simply worried about him appearing whilst I had significantly less on… I felt that would be a shock to both him and me! “Please do not dress on my account. Nightclothes are acceptable; God knows George is still in his!” he then joked. “I will see you downstairs!” he ended as he marched away from the mirror and toward the door from my room. This was such a bizarre thing to get my head around.

  “Thank you!” I called. “I will be there in a minute.”

  I quickly paid a call to the bathroom, splashed some water on my face and then brushed my teeth, before slipping on my robe and going to find George. Work was not expecting me back until after lunchtime, so I took the opportunity to quiz them some more. “Good morning Katharin
a, how did you sleep?” George asked as I sat at the island in his apartment.

  “Is that before or after the fainting and realising that I am involved in a modern-day fairy tale that involves magic, witches and a young man trapped within a mirror?” I sarcastically replied.

  “Point taken!” George nodded as he passed me a mug of coffee and a plate of freshly-made fluffy American pancakes. The smell was divine, and I knew that I was going to enjoy them immensely.

  “Thank you!” I replied as I took a spoon to the thick syrup that was in front of me.

  I was halfway through one pancake when I realised that they were both staring at me. I hadn’t spoken between mouthfuls, so I slowed and looked at them. “I have a really good appetite!”

  “You keep eating, I will keep making!” George smiled. “So now that you have had time to digest our situation a little, how do you feel about it? Is there anything further that you want ask?” he prompted.

  “Well, I am sure that there will be a thousand questions and that things will keep springing to mind. One thing that I did think of; you can obviously see the main door in the entrance reflected in the mirrors, so why don’t you just walk out of it? Is there not a place to go to outside of the house? Would that not release you?” I finished as I pulled another mouthful of pancake off my fork.

  “I’ve tried. Believe me – windows and doors. If I get too near to them or try to step through them, I get the strongest burning sensation, like I am about to burst into flames! It really isn’t pleasant and so not an option, but it has been considered many times!” James replied. I nodded.

  “How about finding another witch to break the spell? They cannot all be bad!” I then stated.

  “Ah, we enquired about that. Unfortunately a spell of this calibre cast by one witch cannot be broken by another! It is bound to the witch that makes the spell!” James confirmed.

  “So, when she died, why did that not break the spell?” I asked as I kept eating.