Fifteen

Inside, the bungalow was exactly as Mandy had last seen it when she’d visited before Grandpa had been taken into hospital, but without her grandparents it had lost its welcoming warmth. Uninhabited for nearly three weeks, it already had that shut-up smell.

‘I’ll get what I need from the bedroom,’ Gran said. ‘I won’t be long.’

‘Do you want some help?’ Mandy asked as Gran made her way down the hall towards the main bedroom at the rear.

‘No, sit yourself down in the lounge. I can manage.’ Mandy thought she probably preferred to do it alone, appreciating the small independence after being waited on at Evelyn’s.

Going into the lounge, Mandy sat in the armchair she usually sat in when she visited and gazed around the room. The dated furniture, heavy velvet curtains and knick-knacks arranged along the mantelpiece, which had helped create that feeling of cosiness and security, now seemed faded and worn. A folded newspaper lay on Grandpa’s chair as though he had just put it down for a minute and would shortly return and continue reading. Then as she directed her gaze over to the coffee table she saw his flat cap: the tweed cap he always wore and had done for as long as she could remember – in winter to keep him warm and in summer to protect the top of his head from the sun. He never went anywhere without his cap and not having it with him now seemed to underline just how ill he was. On impulse she reached over and picked it up; she would take it with her. Even though he didn’t need it and it was unlikely he would ever wear it again he should still have it with him.

A few minutes passed and then Gran called from the bedroom: ‘Mandy, can you give me a hand, love?’

She stood and went into the bedroom. Gran was by the bed with one hand on her walking frame, struggling to get some clothes into a zip holdall with the other.

‘Here, let me,’ Mandy said, going over.

Laying the cap on the bed she began packing the clothes Gran had laid out: two dresses, some of her underwear and a fresh nightdress; Grandpa’s pyjamas, his socks, underwear, a pair of trousers and a shirt, although it was doubtful he’d ever need them. Lastly, Mandy laid the cap carefully on top of the other clothes in the case. ‘Is that everything?’ she asked.

Gran nodded. ‘Let’s go,’ she said quietly.

Mandy saw her face and knew how difficult it was for her being here without Grandpa. Closing the case, Mandy took it off the bed and with the case in one hand she linked Gran’s arm with the other and they crossed to the door. In the hall Gran gave a quick glance around and then led the way out, in no hurry to stay. She locked the front door and then asked Mandy to check it. ‘Will usually does it,’ she said.

‘It’s fine,’ Mandy said, pushing her shoulder against it.

She helped Gran into the car, and then stowed the walking frame and case in the boot. Climbing in, she paused before starting the engine. She looked at Gran, who was staring through the windscreen deep in thought. ‘All right?’ she asked gently, touching her arm.

Gran nodded.

‘We can come again another day if you need anything else.’

‘Thanks, love. But I can’t imagine Will’s going to be needing much more.’ She smiled sadly.

‘Is there anywhere else you need to go?’

‘No thanks, love. Best be getting back.’ She threw Mandy the same sad smile, and then folded her hands in her lap, resigned and accepting.

Mandy started the engine and reversed off the drive. They were quiet, then Gran began to nod off. Mandy thought of the conversation they’d had on the way to the bungalow and immediately felt her pulse quicken. What was it Gran seemed to think she should be able to remember? What was it about Evelyn’s house and the people in it that had stopped her visits? Clearly Gran thought she should know and had even suggested she was deliberately not remembering: Do you really not remember, Mandy? Or is it that you don’t want to? In the past she’d counted on Gran for her honest opinion. Why wasn’t she being honest now?

Mandy came to with a jolt, braking as the red lights of the car in front suddenly loomed. Gran woke too. ‘Sorry,’ Mandy said, ‘he stopped a bit quickly.’

She kept her concentration fully on the road for the rest of the journey. When they arrived Evelyn greeted them in the hall and said lunch was ready.

‘Lunch!’ Gran exclaimed. ‘We’ve only just had breakfast.’ But she dutifully followed Evelyn into the morning room where the table was laid with quiche and salad.

Mandy ate very little, partly because she too felt she’d only just had breakfast, but mainly because she was still unsettled by the conversation she’d had with Gran. A conspiracy seemed to be building around her, a conspiracy of silence which stretched back ten years. As soon as was reasonable she asked to be excused and said if she wasn’t needed she would go to her room for half an hour. ‘Good idea,’ Evelyn said. ‘Get some rest while you can.’

But it wasn’t rest she needed; she needed to be alone to try to make sense of the tangle of thoughts that was writhing in her head. Going into the bedroom she kicked off her shoes and flopped on the bed. It was only 1.30 p.m. but she felt utterly exhausted – and not only from lack of sleep. She was emotionally drained.

Resting her head on the headboard Mandy lay back and stared at the ceiling, willing herself to think back and remember. She tried to visualize herself in the house and garden as she might have been on one of her many visits. In the sitting room, morning room, the conservatory-cum-playroom – what was she doing? She knew from John’s photographs that she’d played in the garden under the sprinkler, but could she remember actually being there and doing it? She wasn’t sure. But she was sure she’d been in the cloakroom in tears, and also that she’d been driven away from the house in the back of her father’s car, distraught. If and how the two incidents were connected, she didn’t know. And these were isolated and limited recollections – snapshots from the album of her past which should have been overflowing with memories from all the times she’d stayed with Sarah. The rest was blank.

‘Why did Father stop all contact and then forbid everyone to talk about it?’ she said out loud as though that might prompt an answer. It must have been something dreadful. Gran’s comment – It wasn’t exactly your fault, although you were involved – suggested she was an accomplice, and therefore partly to blame. Was Sarah the other perpetrator in the unspeakable, unknown crime? It was possible. If so, what could they have done that had led to her being banished from the house? Stolen from the village store? Set fire to something? Drunk wine from the cellar? Or had their pre-pubescent crushes on their respective uncles been discovered? Mandy shuddered at the possibility, yet surely none of these was severe enough for her father to stop all contact between the two families for ever?

‘Shit!’ she said, clenching her fists. ‘Someone needs to tell me what I’ve done!’ It crossed her mind to go downstairs now and demand an explanation. But how could she make a scene and risk upsetting everyone with Grandpa so ill? She remained propped on the bed, frustrated and angry at her inability to remember. Then, just for a second, through the fog of time, she thought she heard her father shouting at Evelyn, as she and Sarah cried openly. Then it vanished.

A tear escaped and ran down her cheek, and another and another. She wept for Grandpa, his pain and suffering, and the loss of their once open and honest relationship. It was inconceivable everyone knew apart from her, especially her beloved grandparents, with whom she thought she’d shared almost everything. Now they too were part of the conspiracy of silence, which her dear grandpa would take to his grave.