The Girl in the Mirror. Cathy Glass

rug. And I bought a new mattress for the bed.’ She squeezed out the flannel and ran it over her face and neck. ‘Would you like coffee?’

      ‘No, thank you. I had one before I left.’

      Taking the towel from the rail, she patted her face and neck dry and then crossed to the chest of drawers where she took out clean underwear, trainer socks and T-shirt. Collecting her jeans from where she’d dropped them on the floor the night before, she disappeared behind the Japanese-style dressing screen. In one respect it was just as well Adam had gone off in a huff the night before, Mandy thought. It would have been embarrassing if her father had come in to find him in her bed. But she was sorry she’d behaved as she had and if Adam didn’t phone as he said he would she’d phone him – and apologize.

      ‘Is Mum OK?’ she asked from behind the screen.

      ‘Yes, though she’s worried about your grandpa, obviously. She sends her love.’

      ‘And how are Evelyn and John?’

      There was a pause. ‘Your aunt didn’t say much really.’

      ‘I guess it was a difficult call for her to make.’

      Through the gap between the panels of the hinged dressing screen, Mandy could see her father. He was sitting in the faded leather captain’s chair, hunched slightly forward, with a hand resting on each knee and frowning.

      ‘By the way Evelyn spoke,’ he said indignantly, ‘you’d have thought I hadn’t seen my father in years. I told her I’d have visited him in hospital again if he’d stayed.’ Mandy heard the defensiveness and knew the peace between her father and his sister was very fragile indeed and only in place to allow them to visit Grandpa.

      Dressed in jeans and T-shirt, she stepped from behind the dressing screen and crossed the room. She threw her kimono and pyjamas on to the bed and went to the fridge. ‘I’m nearly ready, I just need a drink. Are you sure you don’t want something?’

      ‘No thanks.’ He shook his head.

      The few glasses she possessed were in the ‘kitchen’ sink, and to save time, and also because she could in her own place, she drank the juice straight from the carton. ‘Ready,’ she said, returning the juice to the fridge. She wiped her mouth on a tissue and threw it in the bin.

      Her father stood and followed her to the door. ‘Have you painted many pictures?’ he asked, nodding at the empty easel.

      Mandy saw the broken paintbrush and wondered if he’d seen it too. ‘Yes,’ she lied. She took her bag from the hook behind the door and threw it over her shoulder. ‘Yes, it was the right decision to give up work. I have all the time in the world to paint.’ Which was true, but what she couldn’t tell him or Adam – indeed could barely admit to herself – was that in the seven months since she’d given up work she’d painted absolutely nothing, and her failure in this had affected all other aspects of her life. So much so that she’d lost confidence in her ability to do anything worthwhile, ever again.

       Two

      Checking her mobile, Mandy got into her father’s car. There was no message from Adam but he would only just be up. She fastened her seatbelt as her father got in. On a weekday Adam left his house at 7.30 a.m. to catch a train into the City. Her heart stung at the thought of how she’d rejected him and she now longed for the feel of his arms around her. Bringing up a blank text she wrote: Im rly rly sorry. Plz 4giv me. Luv M, and pressed Send. She sat with the phone in her lap; her father started the engine and they pulled away. A minute later her phone bleeped a reply: U r 4given. C u l8r? A x. Thank God, she thought. She texted back: Yes plz. Luv M. Returning the phone to her bag, she relaxed back and looked at the road ahead.

      It felt strange sitting beside her father in the front of the car as he drove. Despite the worry of Grandpa being ill, it felt special – an occasion – an outing. Mandy couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat in the front of a car next to her father. When she’d travelled in the car as a child her place had always been in the back, and later it had been her mother who’d taken her to and collected her from university. When she’d started work she’d bought a car of her own which she’d sold to help finance her year out. No, this was definitely a first, she thought. I don’t think I’ve ever sat in the front next to Father.

      ‘The hospital was pretty grim,’ her father said, breaking into her thoughts. ‘Apparently it’s a brand-new building, but staffed by agency nurses. Your aunt said there was no continuity of care and your grandfather was left unattended. She suggested they paid for him to go into a private hospital but your grandfather wouldn’t hear of it.’

      Mandy smiled. ‘That’s my grandpa!’ Like her father, he was a man of strong working-class principles and would have viewed going private as elitist or unfair. She noticed her father referred to his sister as ‘your aunt’ rather than using her first name, which seemed to underline the distance which still separated them.

      ‘I expect he wanted to be out of hospital,’ Mandy added. ‘It’s nice to be with your family if you’re ill.’

      ‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘As long as he’s getting the medical care he needs.’

      She nodded.

      ‘It’s good weather for the journey,’ he said a moment later, changing the subject. ‘Not a bad morning for March.’

      March, she thought. She was over halfway through her year out – five months before the money ran out and she would have to return to the classroom.

      ‘Does Sarah still live at home?’ Mandy asked presently as the dual carriageway widened into motorway.

      ‘I don’t know, your aunt didn’t say.’

      ‘It would be nice to see her again after all these years. I wonder what she’s doing now.’

      Mandy saw his hands tighten around the steering wheel and his face set. She hadn’t intended it as a criticism, just an expression of her wish to see Sarah again, but clearly he had taken it as one. When her father had fallen out with his sister ten years ago and all communication between the two families had ceased, Mandy had been stopped from seeing her cousin Sarah, which had been very sad. They were both only children and had been close, often staying at each other’s houses until ‘the situation’ had put a stop to it.

      ‘It was unavoidable,’ he said defensively. ‘It was impossible for you to visit after…You wouldn’t know, you don’t remember. You were only a child, Amanda. It should never have happened and I blame myself. I vowed we’d never set foot in that house again. If it wasn’t for Grandpa being taken there, I wouldn’t, and I’ve told Evelyn that.’

      Mandy felt the air charged with the passion of his disclosure. It was the most he’d ever said about ‘the situation’, ever. Indeed, it had never been mentioned by anyone in the last ten years, not in her presence at least. Now, not only had he spoken of it, but he appeared to be blaming himself, which was news to her. And his outburst – so out of character – and the palpable emotion it contained made Mandy feel uncomfortable, for reasons she couldn’t say.

      She looked out of her side window and concentrated on the passing scenery. It was a full ten minutes before he spoke again and then this voice was safe and even once more.

      ‘There’s snow forecast for next week,’ he said.

      ‘So much for global warming!’

      A few minutes later he switched on Radio 3, which allowed Mandy to take her iPod from her bag and plug in her headphones. It was a compilation – garage, hip-hop, Mozart and Abba; Mandy rested her head back and allowed her gaze to settle through the windscreen. The two-hour journey slowly passed and her thoughts wandered to the trips she’d made to and from her aunt’s as a child. The adults had taken turns to collect and return Sarah and her from their