by Paula Hayes
But Edgar rallied and puffed up ‘like he was the peacock with the trump card’ (OL is also great at similes) and said with authority, ‘Please say we can be friends again.’
‘Yes, of course, Edgar,’ shouted back Lucy in a state of despair.
Edgar tried to undo his curse and went through all combinations of words and melodies — but nothing happened. Over and over he repeated the words but this did not break the spell, it seemed to only make it stronger and sparks flared around the hall and off into the kitchen. Beryl’s perfect pavlova was practically glowing green!
Frightened, he turned to Lucy and said, ‘Say I can stay in the room off the kitchen and we can be the best of friends,’ but Edgar’s courage was failing and he was totally confused — ‘Silly sausage? Pilly Polly? Oh pooh … please say I can stay. Say it, say it.’
Stunned, Lucy — who was prone to high emotion — shouted, ‘I will never ever be your friend again!’
Then something happened that no one expected but that would have dire consequences for a very long time. Edgar began to explode into tiny colourful shards of light whilst emitting the most delicious scent. He looked down at his dissolving self and then back at Lily while mumbling the spell one more time in an overwrought voice. As he faded away he whispered, ‘Sorry, dear girls …’ and then disappeared forever. Lucy had broken his non-beating heart.
Here OL finished her story and I was sniffling A LOT because it was very sad indeed.
‘And I have been trapped ever since. After years of reflection — forgive the pun — I am not sure what I am anymore.’ OL closed her eyes, covered her face and breathed deeply for a mo.
I was totally devastated and I shut the laptop. I didn’t need to replay or freeze-frame. I will never forget this story ever. It is imprinted on my brain.
Other Lily now drew her knees up to her chin, put her arms over her head and was silent. Then the silence got awkward and my brain was overloaded with questions like ‘don’t you ever get hungry or tired or gassy?’
It was like OL had read my mind because she looked up and said, ‘I don’t sleep, I don’t need food, I don’t get cold and I don’t feel a thing except boredom, loneliness and … regret … it’s the most terrible feeling — rather like indigestion. I’m sorry for being a sourpuss and a grumblepot.’
After a long time in silence, she sighed deeply and said, ‘Lately I am beginning to feel like I am losing my stuffing. I feel like flat lemonade … not a bubble or a zing left some days.’
As the words left her mouth she turned sideways and, just for a moment, she disappeared out of my sight. She swung back round to face me and there she was again, all pretty and polished. Then she turned to her other side to try to catch a glance of the sunlight sneaking into the hallway. She said she loved the patterns dancing on the boards.
It happened again.
I literally could not see her. She was like my well-loved bookmark. She was FLAT.
Is this normal behaviour for mirror girls or is OL changing?
So confusing.
Vexation City.
*According to Beryl’s notes, a ‘devil-on-horseback’ is a tasty morsel of dried fruit wrapped snuggly in a lardy piece of bacon. It is not an apocalyptic horseman.
Seven
I found I was craving bacon so I made myself a bacon sandwich before I went back to the Rosy Room to check on Other Lily. After such an intense story I was worried she might have literally evaporated into nothing. She was so weak! But she was there as always waiting for me and she had more to share.
A LOT more!
The hours that followed Other Lily’s disappearance into the mirror were a terrible time for the Dunnings. Beryl had been struck dumb for a time but then went into a very loud state of conniption. She bellowed for the doctor, the police and the reverend. Ken came round and saw his Lily in the mirror, hit a high note there for a moment or two and then fainted away again. When Other Lily saw her parents so upset, she kicked her side of the mirror hard and her toe blew off. This gave them all an even greater fright. Beryl insisted she should not touch the glass ever again. As Beryl was saying this, Lucy went and touched the glass really softly. Her fingerprints were wiped clean off and it hurt her so much she started screaming again. Young Nimmy became totally unhinged but I suppose if I saw one of my sisters in the mirror I would go crazy too. If I saw Linden I would throw a party — IN FRONT OF HIM — with a DJ and a slushy machine.
When Ken got conscious for the second time, he moved the mirror into the Rosy Room as Beryl said it was creating a clutter in the hallway. She had decided she did not want anyone to know about the strange goings-on. Just like that! Fate sealed. Ken wanted tea and cake first to get his thoughts together but Beryl said NO. No discussion to be entered into, Kenneth. Beryl was prone to saying this a lot.
Then, a knock at the door. Ken hit the ground once more, weakened by the exertion and lack of sugar. Thud! Total panic station! A small charming voice cried out, ‘Is everything all right?’ and Beryl (who believed in manners) opened the door. There stood Miss Janet Knoblett, the girls’ beloved teacher who had brought books for Lily, records for Lucy and chocolates for Beryl.
Even though Mock Cream Beryl was a large lady, she could not hide her flaked-out husband lying face down in the hallway. Miss Knoblett (who was a kindred spirit and excellent at reading vibes) saw him and the look on Beryl and Lucy’s faces and knew something of a significant nature had just taken place.
‘It’s Lily,’ shouted Lucy.
And Beryl had the presence of mind to say, ‘She is missing, we can’t find her — please alert the sergeant, go … go … go quickly,’ and then went back to wailing and shouting and sobbing all at the same time. (She had hiccups for two days.)
Beryl threw the dust cloth over the mirror and shut the door to the Rosy Room when the sergeant arrived. She wanted to keep this a secret. But guilt-ridden Lucy moved all her things into the Rosy Room that very night to be close to her sister. She apologised about being silly over the lamp and for her hurtful comments and told Other Lily she was very insightful regarding Edgar and that the two sisters were never to separate again. Anytime OL got sad or a bit panicky, she knew she could call out to her. OL didn’t often cry out for her because Lucy needed all her strength for life on the outside. But just being there for her was a great comfort.
I know this is a paradox (according to Fern, life is full of them!) but listening to lovely stories about a lovely sister REMINDED ME ABOUT LINDEN! SPEW!
Linden is coming here soon and I don’t want him to find Other Lily and I don’t want him to come at all. FULL STOP!!!!
Other Lily noticed my brow going all intense and furrowed and she said, ‘Please, won’t you tell me what is wrong?’
I shrugged and said nothing, but seriously, I was slightly jealous that my Nimmy was her Lucy first and I got stuck with a pig instead of a cool twin sister. Young Lucy sounds like so much fun — not that I am into fun, it’s totally overrated. I just bravely shrugged again and said, ‘What happened next?’
Other Lily said everyone eventually calmed down and the family got into a pretty cozy routine. Lucy, Beryl and Ken would sit here in this bedroom with her of an evening. So sweet! And they would show her all the new stuff in the world and read her the newspaper and listen to music. Beryl would knit in one old chair and Ken would read his newspaper in the other and on the little stool sat Lucy … sounds pretty comfy. They even finished papering the room in this vomitous rose wallpaper to remind her of the garden. Beryl was ‘well pleased’ with the result.
Other Lily looked sad and I asked her if she was okay.
‘Not too bad considering the circumstances, and much better for having you here,’ she answered. So brave!
And then I felt so incredibly sorry for both Nimmy and Other Lily that I started to cry. Again. This must have reminded her of my little performance this morning because she asked me what was wrong back then.
I took a deep breath and said, ‘My broth
er is coming to stay and he hates me.’ I must admit, I just kept crying and the tears were very hot and angry and I was embarrassed so MUCH that I kicked over a pile of boxes — and newspaper cuttings, birthday cards and old electricity bills flew everywhere.
‘Not Linden the handful?’ asked OL.
‘Yes!’ I said, ‘What is up with that? How come you know stuff? Please explain!’
Apparently, Nimmy would bring in all the babies in the family for her sister to see. She started off with her own son, my dad (John), and then he got too big and too aware of stuff, like that aunts shouldn’t be in mirrors, and she had to stop. But when Nimmy had grandchildren, she would show her each baby. Each child could visit until they were nearly three. Sometimes she would watch Zinnia and Fern play and it was really lovely and very good for her heart.
‘Do you remember me?’ I asked, soooo excited.
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘because you were the last. Linden was three and he kept climbing up onto the top of the wooden base, and Lucy was holding newborn you and she kept pulling Linden back by the pants until she had to take him outside so she could show me the new baby. You were utterly, utterly adorable with a tiny little head like a fresh peach … simply the most divine baby of all.’
She said she saw photos of John and Letty and us kids growing up over the years and she knew all kinds of snippets of stories about us. Then Other Lily looked at me and asked, ‘Did Letty find her Vietnamese birth mother as she was thinking about doing years ago?’
I answered, ‘No.’
Other Lily said this was a shame and I sighed and agreed … only because I want to find out what mysteries could lay there. Then I told OL about Nanna Pinkington, who is Mum’s adopted mum but really her true mum as the Universe chose for them to be together. Pinkie (thanks once again, Zinnia) is the best mum and nanna in the world. She lives in a unit that is very close to us (which is great) but that’s very clean and neat. She likes to give old things away! Not so great! The only mystery surrounding her is her love of Midsomer Murders on the television. Actually, this is not strictly true. Not the bit about Nanna Pinkie loving English detectives but the bit about me only being interested in Mum’s birth family for its intrigue factor. Last Christmas, I overheard my sisters talking about it too. Fern said she looks Vietnamese but feels ridiculous because she doesn’t know a word of the language, and Zinnia said she was sick of her new Spanish friends asking her to whip up a bowl of pho and being surprised when she bakes perfect pumpkin scones. (Nimmy recipe!) Fern and her friends are going to Vietnam before she heads off to Europe and they wanted to visit her ancestral village. She had to tell them she had no idea. Realistically, Treebark is our ancestral village. Fern said it was Mum’s decision and we needed to support her and stuff.
OL is awesome at reading vibes, just like I am, because the next thing she said was she was so ashamed of being snippy and tetchy with me at the start … and for calling me ‘Chinese girl’ when I am actually Australian with Vietnamese heritage.
She often wondered if the house had been sold, because it had been a long time since Lucy had gone away for good. Long before that, her visits had become erratic and sometimes Lucy would forget who she was. Sometimes — this was even worse — Lucy would think SHE was the girl in the mirror and would start to brush HER hair and straighten HER hat. (OL does not even wear a hat!) There were days when Lucy wouldn’t visit at all as ‘she had taken to her bed because of her nerves’ — I suspect it was the neurons not working, which is close enough. GG has explained it to me.
I told OL it had been four years since Lucy had gone into the Home, so about seven years since she had last seen my adorable face. She said she had been so lonely and frightened and bored, but mostly lonely, in the mirror that she thought she was having one of those bad dreams that make you wake up and scream. Except she never quite got round to the wake up and scream bit. She said it made the whole cake-cartwheeling Edgar episode pale into utter insignificance and she now wished she had let the greedy pudding head stay in his own room and not been such a jolly spoilsport.
Apparently, when Nimmy realised her neurons were on the slide, she suggested that they let Colin in on it (the sister-in-law behind glass deal) and OL was totally up for it but then poor Lucy forgot to mention it to him before it was too late. I actually got a lump in my throat because that is seriously sad.
But OL was like, so positive. She shook herself and shuddered, ‘There I go again being as miserable as a bandicoot … so sorry.’ Then she smiled her brightest smile and asked, ‘Is Linden still a handful?’
‘Handful? He is a mental case!’ I answered, only because it is the TRUTH.
Eight
I told Other Lily all about Linden and how mean he is to me, including the erroneous story and another one involving my trumpet case being hidden on the school bus by him and his friends, which led me to have a very public panic attack because that trumpet is expensive to Dad and precious to me. One of his friends, named Harry, slid it out from under Linden’s seat and said sorry. Linden teased him and said he was a Lily lover pansy.
I even told her about the time Linden held my head under the water at our family Christmas pool party and Zinnia had to hit him hard on the head with the leaf scoop to get him to stop. Meanwhile Fern had dived in and rescued me. I vomited up all my chunky Christmas ham and potato salad and I have to say, throwing up lumpy potato is almost as bad as nearly drowning.
Other Lily was outraged. OUTRAGED. And she shouted, ‘He sounds PERFECTLY GHASTLY AND A BULLY AND A RAT AND A FINK TO BOOT!’ and she paced back and forth until at last she said, ‘To be perfectly frank, he needs to be taught a lesson.’
I really REALLY REALLY like Other Lily. She is the best friend ever!
And then Other Lily smiled, what I can only describe as a wicked smile, and I wondered again if she was an evil fairy. This did not stop me from liking her. It actually increased my like. But she is not, of course, an evil entity of any description. She is just plain awesome. Other Lily bent over to touch her toes like she was in training for the Bully Olympics. She turned to her side and did a few quick knee lifts and suddenly she was flat again. All I could see of her were knobbly knees and swinging arms, like a jerking ribbon. OL was as flat as the Queen on an old postage stamp. She was so busy being chipper that she did not see my open mouth of SHOCK. I pulled myself together.
OL turned and jogged towards me and said she COMPLETELY understands how I feel because when she lived outside the mirror in the real world, there was a girl down the street named Dawn Hornbuckle, who would pull her plaits and set her dog onto her AND the wretched beast had even taken a piece out of her ankle. Other Lily popped her leg up and showed me the scar. It was still quite raw and angry looking.
It made the space where the missing toe was on the other leg look healthy and completely normal and acceptable. This is how utterly horrible it is. Wretched, a fab new word I learnt from OL.
‘It happened a fortnight before I got stuck in here,’ she said sadly, ‘Mama had just removed the bandages.’
‘What happened?’ I asked. What bad luck to have a dog bite you and then become trapped in a parallel dimension.
‘I was riding my new bicycle past her house when Deadly Dawn opened the gates and released Chompers — he was a very large and peculiar-smelling Doberman with a deep hatred of shiny bicycles and girls. I suspect it was because Dawn was a cycling girl and I suspect that she terrorised Chompers as much as she terrorised me.’
‘How long ago did this happen?’ I asked, taking another sneak peek at the scar. Shudder.
‘December the 12th, 1947… It feels so long ago. I have lost track of time. When Mama and darling Pa died, Lucy helped me keep track of the days by sneaking in and telling me the time and the day and what the weather was like. She would read bits and bobs from the newspapers and sometimes, if Colin was out at bridge, she would bring in the radio and we could listen to tunes. We even tried a portable television set but we could never get the rab
bit-ears antenna to work properly and when the sewing machine was running as well … it was a nightmare!’ Other Lily sighed. ‘One day, she came in with a tea-cosy on her head and I asked her if she had the morning papers handy — but she couldn’t remember what a paper was. I thought she was joking until she started crying and snapped, ‘What a darn nuisance this paper thing must be … whatever it was.’
And then we were both quiet for a long time and both felt a bit dreary until I broke the silence by saying how I wished I had a twin sister and not a psycho brother.
OL’s eyes began to shine with mischief again and she whispered, ‘We will teach him a lesson for sure.’
Just then, Grandad shouted out, ‘A certain favourite cake is ready for a certain favourite grandchild.’
‘Is it a chocolate ganache and hazelnut cake?’ asked OL and I nodded. She said this cake was Lucy’s favourite too and the charming Colin would make it for her on the weekends. I feel very special that I have something in common with the beautiful girl that was Nimmy in the photograph but I feel very scared that if I eat too much of it, I will end up like Nimmy in the Home, all jiggly with drooping bits.
I am feeling loved and mysterious all in one.
But I have a voice niggling at me in the back of my head. I think it might be a kind of logic. Why does Other Lily keep going flat? I am trying not to think about what this means.
Can’t stop thinking about it.
What does it mean?
Nine
I have been spending every minute in the Rosy Room with OL and now I feel very sorry for GG, as he must miss me terribly. I told him I was collecting all the old recipes from letters and that I would make a recipe book for him and he said that sounded like a very worthwhile idea and gave me a plastic folder and a label gun. (It’s left over from when Nimmy was still at home — everything around here is labelled!) And so I am sorting and looking for a tippy-toe and recipes and secrets of any kind.