Lily in the Mirror

by Paula Hayes

  I came across a beautiful jam tart box full of blue letters with Par Avion on them. They are aerogrammes, which sounds cutting edge, but I think it just means letters written on blue paper and sent by an aeroplane, which is not that radical. On the front are these readymade stamps of the Queen wearing a tiara and she looks as pretty as, maybe even prettier than Kate Middleton.

  These letters are from Lucy to Beryl and Ken and Lily. Lucy and Colin went to London and then toured something called the Continent. Lucy describes tulip gardens and old clocks and pointy shoes and twirly spaghetti and Yorkshire puddings and Monte Carlo — which, as it turns out, is a place and not just a tasty biscuit. There are heaps of letters all folded upon themselves. Some of them are boring and some are awesome — complaining about chilblains and asking about Fabian her darling cat all the time … Yawnfest. But describing the midnight sun … Amazeballs.

  I shook one of the letters and out popped a photograph of Lucy and Colin in Paris. Colin had his coat over their heads and Lucy was looking at Colin in such a nice way. Colin’s hair was dark and wavy and parted in the exact same part he has now (except there is hair in the photo) and he was wearing large black-rimmed specs that are incredibly ugly — poor Colin. You would need to be charming to wear that freaky nerd-alarm on your face. I held up the pic for OL to see and she sighed and said, ‘What a jadorable couple.’ This is French for totes adorable. And they are.

  And that’s when I had a very important thought. These little crinkly pieces of blue tissue paper are like Nimmy’s memories; it’s like looking into the Pensieve with Dumbledore smiling behind me … except behind me is a squashed thirteen-year-old girl trapped in a mirror. These soft petal-like papers are special and amazing and irreplaceable. I looked around the room and there are heaps and heaps of tins and boxes full to the brim with them. It’s like all the good thoughts Lucy ever had are written here for Other Lily. They still exist and I can read them. I can see into Nimmy’s mind before the dementia came and ate up all the memories like a ticked-off Chompers. I looked up and saw OL smiling kindly at me and realised … she was like a LIVING MEMORY BANK about Lucy and Beryl and Ken and John and Letty and all of us, in a way. I looked like a peach, for heaven’s sake. This is IMPORTANT STUFF.

  I am borrowing some photos and a couple of letters as they make me feel very close to Other Lily and Lucy in the good old days. My life seems to have happened after the good old days because Zinnia and Fern can remember heaps about Nimmy before she went off into Nimmy Land. Linden doesn’t care. I can remember some stuff too, like how she could peel potatoes in one long curly piece and how GG would laugh loudly at her jokes. He would bend over and come up with happy tears running off his face. But my sisters have years of memories. Nimmy even met Manuel and got her flirt on with him as she spoke to him in Spanish. She will never meet my future dreamboat and that makes me sad.

  Ten

  Last night I couldn’t sleep and not even reading about Hermione and Viktor Krum hitting the D-floor at the Triwizard Yule Ball helped. I had to come clean with OL and tell her that Nimmy has dementia.

  So this morning I did and she said, ‘What is this?’ So I went and got GG’s book on it and read her the description and symptoms and stuff. I left out the PROGNOSIS as my throat was really sore from trying not to blub like a baby but then I did blub like a baby anyway.

  When I looked up, Lily was blubbing like a baby too and she cried out, ‘It would do my heart the world of good if I could just see my dearest Lucy one more time,’ and then I started howling because that is IMPOSSIBLE and I am grateful that GG is a bit deaf and is outside pruning the roses. So we both got ourselves into a bit of a state when GG’s big old-fashioned phone rang. I pulled myself together and thought rationally and ran to GG’s bedroom and answered it.

  It was Linden and he said, ‘Are you looking forward to seeing me? Because I will be there tomorrow at six pm, loser.’

  I said, ‘Thank you for that information, I will tell GG ASAP.’ Then I hung up and ran back to OL and started howling again.

  ‘Who was it, dear?’ asked Lily.

  ‘The HANDFUL arrives tomorrow at six pm,’ I replied.

  Then we had a secret chat about teaching Linden a lesson. I started to feel a bit better but I knew in my heart that Linden is a bigger handful than Dawn and Chompers Hornbuckle put together.

  Other Lily said the key to executing a terrific idea was in the groundwork.

  ‘Does Linden have any foibles?’ she asked me.

  ‘He does have a furuncle on the side of his neck that he takes antibiotics for,’ I said.

  She laughed, ‘No, I mean weak character points.’

  ‘I can’t think of one,’ I said, ‘he is much taller and stronger and meaner than me.’

  Lily told me to look a little deeper and so I thought hard and answered, ‘He is a fussy eater and is a smelly Pig Boy.’ I added, ‘Oh, and Dad said he is easily stimulated and when I asked Fern what this meant, she said he has the attention span of a gnat.’

  Lily thought these were indeed foibles enough and gave her plenty to work with.

  Well, Linden is here. He is completely ignoring me in his scowly way, which suits me fine. Being ignored does not leave psychological damage.

  I have taken the key and locked up the Rosy Room. It is a really big key and I am wearing it around my neck on GG’s West Coast Eagles member lanyard. Not that Linden will be interested in vintage or history and family stuff — but I can’t risk it. He will be interested if I show interest. I am thinking about taking my own bedroom key as well — thanks to his ‘bush cockroach in Lily’s bed’ prank I have skin sensitivity issues. That night still haunts me to this day. Actually, I had to go and speak to a special therapist about it. Embarrassing! Now I do not like being tickled. FULL STOP!

  Linden is still Linden. I will not waste the lead in my new pacer on writing about him.

  We had our dinner, which was a delicious gnocchi with burnt butter and sage number, which GG is legendary for. Linden had plain pasta because he is a fussy eater. The phone rang and GG answered it and, while he was on the phone, Linden took a second lemonade can out of the fridge AND put one in his bedroom for later. PIG. Then he finished off the remaining chocolate ganache cake and burped into my face, the most disgusting smell.

  I must say as I write this I feel alive with RAGE. I am fairly seething with rage.

  Then GG came back to the dinner table and said he had to go out. And I’m like, GG you said you would talk to Pig Boy about his behaviour and now you are leaving me alone with the psycho at nighttime. Obviously, I couldn’t say this in front of Linden so I said it telepathically with my eyebrows and my mouth turned down. GG got the message at once and said he was so sorry to be running off on Linden’s first night but a friend from bridge had had a nasty fall and needed some help. He would only be a short time. GG told us there was plenty of cake but I am afraid I could not stop myself from saying, there was not … ANYMORE. And GG frowned at Linden, and Linden was like WHATEVER.

  I hate him.

  I took the key to my bedroom and I locked myself in. I attempted to read Playing Beatie Bow but I couldn’t concentrate. So I put it away and got out my laptop to read — this time The Chamber of Secrets. I went straight to the bit where the Weasley brothers get the Ford Anglia to fly and they rescue Harry. It is very good comfort reading and it helped me tremendously, even though there is a squiggly shatter line running through the screen that makes the words jumpy. I heard my door rattle and felt good having the key around my neck, even though it was poking into my ribcage and it smelled rusty, which is my least favourite smell.

  This morning I slept in and I was so angry with myself because I was supposed to get up and execute phase one. I jumped out of bed and went to find GG at the top of the table, figging up all the toast and basically ruining it. But he was not there and so I searched the laundry slash jam-making room and he was not there. Only figs and sugar and buckets — YUK!! SPEWALICIOUS! I could also s
ee a big bag of quinces sitting on the washing machine. Quinces actually hurt my tongue and make my mouth produce too much saliva. VOMITOUS! He was not tending to the garden or watching television. It was not a bridge day and I wondered if he had nipped out to see Nimmy. But it was too early for Nimmy as she would still be in the breakfast room eating some non-crunchy food.

  Then I started to panic! I looked into Linden’s room and he was snoring his ugly head off. So I had the presence of mind to execute the plan. I took the finger out of my dressing gown pocket and placed it on his pillow. Then I tiptoed out and kept looking for GG.

  I found him. He was asleep on his bed but he had his glasses on and was fully dressed, holding onto the bedside dresser phone. The short curly cord was stretched out straight. He cradled the two bulky plastic parts to his chest like a teddy bear. I strongly, strongly felt that something bad had happened. So I crept forward thinking please don’t let GG be dead … please don’t let GG be dead, and he must have felt me telepathically as he woke up and smiled at me.

  I told GG I strongly felt something was terribly wrong, and GG started to CRY. And I thought to myself this is almost as bad as if he was dead because GG does NOT cry. I took his hand and he said, ‘My dear little Lily Pilly, something is wrong. I am afraid my bridge story was a bit of a ruse. It’s Nimmy. Nimmy has gone downhill and it is not looking good for her.’

  I am embarrassed to say that at first, all I could see was Nimmy speeding out of control in her wheelchair down a steep hill, while shouting WOOOO HOOOOO and that made me smile. But Grandad kept on talking and I soon realised that what he meant was, she was dying. Then I started to howl and GG held me tight and he howled too but then there was a CATASTROPHIC NOISE and Linden started screaming his lungs out and came running into GG’s room, screaming the words, ‘BODY PART! There is a random finger on my pillow, a finger on my pillow, come and see it, come and see it … Get it off my pillow, GG!’

  GG said, ‘Maybe it is a worm or slug, or something of that nature — it can’t possibly be a finger as all our fingers are present and accounted for,’ and he was the old GG again.

  I felt slightly sorry for Linden because I was, at least, sort of prepared for mystery from the Rosy Room but to wake up with a juicy digit on your pillow slip must have come as a bit of a shock. Ba Ha Ha Linden!! Suffer in your jocks!

  Grandad said, ‘Please calm down, Linden, and let me change my glasses,’ so he started looking around for his other pair and he couldn’t find them. I slipped very quietly into Linden’s room and popped Lily’s finger back into my dressing gown pocket.

  Linden was still screaming, ‘I DID SO SEE A FINGER,’ and he was all jumpy and sweaty and I have to say, even though I was drowning in sorrow for poor Nimmy I was extremely pleased that Linden was MIND-FREAKED this badly.

  I heard the mirror rattle loudly like OL was doing a victory dance and then I felt terrible for her as Nimmy, her dear one, was going downhill — her absolute dearest one. And it is totally up to me to break the bad news.

  I am worried this might make her flat twenty-four seven. As in ALL THE TIME.

  So GG found his glasses and pulled himself together and went to see this alleged finger, which was, of course, not there. He was quite sharp with Linden but not sharp enough for my liking until Linden turned and said, ‘It’s Lily, Lily did it, where is the finger, turdburger?’ and I started howling in indignation (fab new OL word) and GG really snapped BIG-TIME and shouted, ‘PISH POSH! DON’T BE RIDICULOUS, LINDEN, Lily can’t even stomach the look of a fig, let alone touch a detached finger. YOU IMAGINED IT.’

  This is true. My disgust of figs is well known.

  Then GG said Nimmy was not well and he wanted to freshen up and go back and see her. But first he had an important phone call to make. I knew he had to call his son, my dad, to tell him the bad news too.

  It is later on in the day. I have not seen Nimmy or Other Lily.

  So GG was on the phone and Linden made some figgy toast for himself and then ate it in his room with his earplugs in like the surly little pudding head that he is. I pulled out the key and opened the door to the Rosy Room … and the dust cloth was jiggling and jiving all over the place. OL was super excited and I wanted to say ‘calm your farm or we will get busted’ but I didn’t have the heart. I let her have a nanosecond of joy before my bad news. The news could have thrown her into the depths of anguish for all eternity. Heavy!

  So I took my time pulling off the sheet to reveal her beautiful eyes glistening with happiness and she was doing that chuckle thing which is no longer annoying but simply delightful. (FAVE NEW OL WORD OF ALL TIME!)

  ‘How did it go?’ she whisper-shouted joyously — and as I write this I am struck by how much fun a really good prop can be and I almost, almost understand Linden’s rubber-vomit stage.

  ‘It went very well,’ I replied with as much joy as I could muster but she could tell it didn’t match her joy at all as she is incredibly good at reading things like people’s faces and voices. It’s probably because she has been stuck in a mirror since 1947.

  ‘What’s the matter, dear one?’ she asked very gently but firmly. ‘Has Linden been mean to you?’

  And I said, ‘No, we totally nailed freaking Linden out. It’s Nimmy … Lucy … she is going downhill … I just heard GG slash Colin say on the phone that she only has a few days left,’ and then to make it perfectly clear, I added, ‘left alive.’ Then I blubbed like a baby again but Lily did not.

  She leaned forward and said, ‘Can I ask you a favour, dearest?’

  I said, ‘Yes, anything, anything at all!’ but I was actually thinking, what can I do for a girl inside a mirror?

  ‘I must see my dear one, one more time. Please, do you think you could organise it?’

  And I’m like, yeah sure, I will just put the mirror in my Hello Kitty organiser and off we go. Of course I didn’t say that. I did say, ‘I can’t promise anything but I will die trying,’ and this seemed to give her confidence in me.

  Then I heard Linden rabbiting around (GG-ism) in the kitchen for chips and biscuits so I said I must go. As I placed the sheet over the mirror, OL started to cry and she almost touched the glass.

  ‘Stop!’ I shouted — and she did. Big silent tears plopped down her face and I was completely gutted.

  Eleven

  So we are now going to see Nimmy. Linden did not want to come so GG said he could stay at home and watch ABC3. Linden laughed and said that is for babies but he sat down and watched it and laughed his head off at Kayne and Ambo. They are really funny — Kayne is cute but not as cute as Scotty Tweedie. The key to the Rosy Room is still around my neck and I feel glad but itchy and stinky.

  I am scared to see Nimmy as I have not seen anyone dying before and it might be a bit frightening. I hope there are not too many cords and machines and stuff.

  It is a very beautiful day and the weather is all springtime even though it’s the middle of winter. We were in a hurry to Nimmy’s this morning so we walked straight past Ms HB’s house. Sometimes, we cross the road and take a bit of a detour (for our health, says GG) but I think it is because he can’t stand her dogs going ballistic at the gate.

  Today Ms HB was sitting outside on the padded seat in her walking frame enjoying the weather as well. I think she spends more time using the seat bit than the walking bit. She was wearing a dress that was too short and there was a gap between her hemline and her knee-length stockings and I could see her knees, which were as white as a ghost’s, they contrasted much with her very tanned pantyhose. She shouted out, ‘Yoo-hoo, Colin and little Lindy, how are we today? Terrific weather we are having, isn’t it? Care for a cordial?’

  And GG actually said, ‘That plurry woman!’ (plurry is an almost-swearword old people use when they get cross) under his breath just so I could hear, and then he said breezily, ‘So sorry, Ms HB, we are in a bit of a hurry. Lucy is not too well at the moment.’

  Ms HB replied, ‘Sorry to hear that. Now … dear Colin, I won�
�t ask you again, please dear … do call me Dawn.’ Then she tried to straighten up to show off her big bosoms. At first I was shocked — Ms HB was getting her flirt on with my GRANDFATHER — but then I had a light-bulb moment. It was as bright as GG’s fluorescent hallway light that has a broken shade. MS HB IS DAWN HORNBUCKLE … THE HORRIBLE GIRL FROM DOWN THE STREET … AND SHE WAS HITTING ON GG! — except she was most certainly not a girl anymore. She was totally ancient.

  I was in a state of shock. I felt more upset than when I found the finger. That was a mystery. This is plain VOMITOUS.

  GG did not seem surprised and said in his charming voice, ‘We must be getting along,’ and then held my hand tightly and although we walked away at a normal pace, GG’s face was saying he wanted to run.

  I am back home now at GG’s even though Nimmy is not dead … yet.

  In the end, it really wasn’t that scary. At first, it was flat-out off-putting — Nimmy was lying in her bed and her eyes were closed but her face said that she was in Nimmy Land twenty-four seven. I tried to imagine Nimmy Land full of babies, shoes, boxes, swing music, cakes and a Colin with hair … and of course her dearest sister. This helped me tremendously and I was even able to take her hand and stroke its gnarly old skin. (Note to self: sunscreen is very important genetically for me.)

  GG sat on the other side and held her other hand, the one with all the twisty jewellery. He said lovely things to her about John and Letty and all of us … and about Paris in 1957 and Cairo in 1962 etc etc etc. And then he went on about the rose garden … and he even managed to say something nice about Linden. He said he was a strong, good-looking fellow with a healthy appetite and left it at that, which was very kind of him. Apparently I am a sheer delight.

  Then Nimmy sat up and opened her eyes and said, ‘Home,’ and as she said it, a whole lot of brown stuff came out of her mouth and I screamed and GG hit the emergency button and nurses came running.