Read Online The Girl in the Mirror by Cathy Glass - Free Book Online Page A

and Grandpa’s almost hypnotic breathing, Mandy’s eyes slowly began to close. His breathing seemed louder now her eyes were shut, and with nothing else to concentrate on she found herself silently counting the seconds in the rhythm of his breathing. In – one, two, three, four, and then a pause of five seconds before he breathed out for three seconds. It was far, far slower than her own breathing – she’d taken nearly three breaths to his one. She assumed it was his medication slowing his body rhythm at the same time as it suppressed the pain. Counting the seconds of his breathing was as soporific as counting sheep and, combined with the warmth of the room, soon made her doze.
    She was a child again, in this house, and looking out of a window at the front, looking down on the driveway below. She was in the Pink Room, so named because it was decorated pink. Mandy could see herself standing at the window and looking down on to the drive. It was late at night and very dark outside. A car was pulling away, leaving the house, its headlights illuminating the gravel ahead. It was her father’s car and there was someone in the back. As she watched, the girl with the ponytail turned to look at her, just as she had earlier that evening when she’d waved goodbye to her father. Tears streamed down the girl’s cheeks and Mandy could feel her terror and distress. ‘Help! Someone help me. Daddy, no!’
    ‘Help, Mandy, quick.’ Mandy’s eyes shot open. ‘Wake up. I need your help!’ John’s voice.
    The dark of the night outside had gone, and so too had the red glow of the lamp, replaced by the main light of the study. Mandy was immediately on her feet, going to the bed; her heart raced from the shock of suddenly waking. ‘He needs the toilet,’ John said, struggling to get Grandpa out of bed and over to thecommode. Grandpa groaned but his eyes stayed closed; he was a dead weight and powerless to help.
    Mandy pulled the commode to the bed and then yanked off the lid, but it was too late. As John lifted Grandpa on to the commode, he groaned again, and they heard the rush of water as a wet patch appeared on his pyjama bottoms. ‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled in a small voice, and Mandy could have wept.
    ‘It’s not your fault, Dad,’ John reassured him. ‘I should have woken sooner.’
    So should I, Mandy thought, if I’m going to be of any help.
    Grandpa’s eyes stayed closed as John steadied him, a hand on each shoulder. Mandy knelt at his feet and carefully slid off the wet pyjama trousers, one leg at a time. ‘Thanks, love,’ he said, his eyes still closed.
    ‘I’ll get you clean ones,’ she said quietly, humbled by his humility.
    He gave a little groan of acknowledgement but didn’t open his eyes.
    ‘You’ll find the clean stuff either in the dryer or the airing cupboard – in the laundry room, behind the kitchen,’ John said.
    Mandy rolled up the wet pyjamas and left the study. She knew she’d let Grandpa down by not hearing his calls for help. The rear hall was lit only by the nightlight and now seemed even darker after the main light of the study. She passed the kitchen, which was still in darkness, and then stopped outside the next door which John had said would be the laundry room. Turning the knob, she felt inside for the light switch and clicked it on before entering. The room was bare and cold compared to the rest of the house, and smelt of pine disinfectant.
    She saw the washing machine straight in front of her and next to that the dryer. Crossing the red slate-tiled floor, Mandy pushedthe wet pyjama trousers into the washing machine ready for the next wash the following day, then opened the dryer door. There was a single sheet from Grandpa’s bed and two pairs of his pyjama bottoms, still warm from drying – Evelyn must have put them in before going to bed. She gave them a shake and loosely folded them over her arm. She guessed this room was mainly the domain of the housekeeper, Mrs Saunders;