Nineteen

The following afternoon, Mandy got off the bus in the village. She’d chosen the stop closest to the village store rather than the one near the lane that led to her aunt’s house. It had started to rain, and while she now had a jacket – brought from home – she hadn’t thought to bring her umbrella. She quickened her pace, her heart racing at the prospect of what she was about to hear. It had occurred to her during the night, in the normality of her bedsit, that as Mrs Pryce had been in the hall that last night then it was likely she knew what had happened and, not bound by the family’s vow of secrecy, could tell her.

Mandy crossed the road to the shop. The door clanged open and an elderly couple came out. They smiled at her and put up their hoods before hurrying off. Mandy went in and the door clanged shut behind her. The shop was busier today, Saturday, than it had been on her last visit. She looked over to the till on the right where she’d last seen Mrs Pryce, but a girl in her twenties with long blonde hair was serving a customer. Mandy went further in and peered down the aisles, but there was no sign of Mrs Pryce. She went round the corner and looked into the recess that housed the post office counter; a woman, a similar age to Mrs Pryce, was serving behind the security grille. Mandy waited until the customer had finished and, having checked that no other customers were waiting, went up to the counter. The woman smiled and looked at her questioningly. ‘I was wondering if you could help me?’ Mandy said. ‘I’m looking for Mrs Pryce. Is she here? I’m an old friend.’

‘I know who you are,’ the woman said kindly. ‘Mary mentioned you’d come in last week. It’s Amanda, isn’t it?’

Mandy gave a small nod; clearly nothing went unnoticed in the village.

‘I’m afraid Mary’s not in today,’ she said. ‘She only works part-time. Can I give her a message? I should be seeing her at church tomorrow.’

Mandy hid her disappointment. ‘No, no message, thank you.’ She began to move away. ‘I’ll tell her you came in,’ the woman called after her. ‘She’ll be working again on Tuesday.’ ‘Thank you,’ Mandy said, and left the store. Tuesday. It seemed a lifetime away.

Outside large drops of rain splattered on the pavement and the sky had darkened. Mandy crossed the road and walked quickly along the path away from the village and towards the lane that led to her aunt’s. She was bitterly disappointed. She’d had her hopes set on asking Mrs Pryce; now she’d have to wait until Tuesday, assuming she was still at Evelyn’s. Thunder rumbled in the distance and Mandy knew she shouldn’t go down the lane with its overhanging trees if there was any chance of lightning. When she’d stayed as a child her aunt had often warned Sarah and her, once they were old enough to come into the village alone, to wait until a storm passed and not to shelter under the trees. She could hear Evelyn saying it: Wait under the bus shelter in the village if there’s a storm. Don’t shelter under the trees. Mandy remembered her warning and also the game of dare Sarah and she had played when they’d gone into the village one summer’s afternoon and a storm had broken. Sarah had wanted to wait under the bus shelter as her mother had told her, but Mandy had goaded her cousin until she’d agreed to go down the lane. It had been fun and dangerously exciting – hearing the thunder and then seeing how many trees they could run under before the lightning struck. Mandy remembered their squeals of laughter; how they’d arrived home soaking wet; and the huge telling-off they’d been given, which had been directed at Sarah. ‘You’re old enough to know better,’ Evelyn had said. ‘You should have waited.’ Mandy remembered Sarah had accepted the telling-off without passing on the blame and afterwards Mandy had thanked her. ‘That’s what friends are for,’ Sarah had said.

How I can remember this, she thought, frustrated, but not the important things? I can remember a silly game of dare but not why my father shouted at his sister and I was never allowed in the house again. It was as if a curtain had been drawn over this part of her mind, a curtain which occasionally parted to let her peep in, but not for long enough to make any sense of what she saw.

The rain was falling heavily through the canopy of bare branches overhead and Mandy began to jog along the lane. She was nervous at the thought of seeing everyone again. She’d phoned Evelyn after Adam had gone the night before and had apologized for disappearing, saying she’d just needed a break. Although Evelyn had been understanding and hadn’t pressed her, her running off after Simon’s remark must have sparked speculation. Doubtless she had been talked about and discussed, but now she needed to go back. Adam had been right: running away wouldn’t solve anything, and she’d also realized she couldn’t desert her grandparents.

Five minutes later, wet and out of breath, she jogged down the drive, past the wooden sign saying ‘Breakspeare Manor’, and to Evelyn’s front door. She pressed the bell, heard it chime, and then a moment later Evelyn opened the door. ‘Good to have you back, Mandy!’ she exclaimed, relieved and pleased to see her. She gave her a quick hug. ‘You’re soaking. I’ll get you a towel.’

‘Thanks. How’s Grandpa?’

’About the same.’

Mandy stayed on the doormat just inside the hall and took off her sopping wet jacket and shoes, which had leaves and dirt stuck to the soles. The house was quiet and only Evelyn’s car had been parked on the drive. Evelyn reappeared and passed her the towel.

‘Is John here?’

‘No. He’s gone to visit his mother. He goes every Saturday. She’s in a nursing home now.’

Mandy nodded and rubbed her hair on the towel. So John was out, and Gran would be in the study. While she had the opportunity, and before her courage failed her, she should ask Evelyn what she knew. She concentrated on rubbing her hair and carefully avoided Evelyn’s gaze. ‘Last night I was thinking about when I last stayed here,’ she began, her voice unnaturally light. ‘Can you tell me why you and Dad fell out? What happened to stop me coming here?’

She heard her aunt’s silence. Then she met her gaze and saw her look of shock and disbelief – the same disbelief she’d seen on Gran’s face when she’d asked her.

‘You really don’t know, Mandy?’ Evelyn asked, amazed.

Mandy stopped rubbing her hair. ‘No, I really don’t. But you do, and I’d like you to tell me. I used to see Sarah regularly and then suddenly I wasn’t allowed to come here any more. Something happened, something very upsetting, and I’d like you to tell me what.’

Evelyn’s look of disbelief slowly vanished, replaced by confusion, then her face set. Mandy could guess what was coming next. ‘No, I can’t be the one to tell you,’ she said firmly. ‘You’ll have to ask your father; it was his decision to stop you coming here. If he hasn’t told you he’s got some explaining to do. I always thought burying it would make it worse, and now it has.’ Evelyn stopped. ‘You’d better change before you catch cold.’ She turned and went down the hall.

Mandy stared after her as the door to her past once more slammed shut in her face. She seethed inwardly with anger and frustration. It crossed her mind to run after Evelyn and demand the truth – make a scene if necessary, until she told. But scenes weren’t a part of their family – one thing Evelyn and her father still had in common was their self-control and dislike of raw emotion!

Her phone began ringing in her bag. ‘Yes?’ she said. It was Adam. They hadn’t spoken since he’d left her bedsit the evening before.

His voice was subdued. ‘How are you?’

‘OK.’ She crossed the hall and started to climb the stairs as she spoke.

‘Are you at your aunt’s now?’

‘I’ve just arrived. How did you know I was coming here?’

‘Your dad phoned me this morning.’

‘I see.’ She pushed open the door to the bedroom and, dumping her bag on the floor, began pulling off her wet jeans.

‘You’re sure you’re OK?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Mandy, your parents have asked me if I want to come with them when they visit tomorrow. I said I would like to but I wanted to make sure it was all right with you first?’

She hesitated. ’Yes, why not? Gran will be pleased to see you.’

‘And you?’

She sat on the bed in her T-shirt and pants and pulled off her damp socks. ‘Yes.’

‘Sure?’

‘Yes, come. I’d like to see you.’

‘Good. Is there anything you need?

‘No, I don’t think so.’

’I’ll see you tomorrow then.’

‘Yes.’

Saying goodbye, she closed her phone and returned it to her bag. She knew she should have tried to sound more enthusiastic, but in some ways seeing Adam right now just felt like an added pressure – more emotion and unresolved issues to deal with. Recently – even before Grandpa’s illness – whenever they’d seen each other he’d gone away hurt and she’d ended up feeling a shit. But she wanted to see him, she always looked forward to seeing him; it just seemed to go pear-shaped. She would make a big effort tomorrow.

Having changed into dry jeans and socks, she tucked her phone into her pocket and went downstairs. She needed a drink of water before she went into the study. Evelyn was in the kitchen making sandwiches for supper. She didn’t look up as Mandy entered.

‘Adam is coming with Mum and Dad tomorrow,’ Mandy said. ‘I hope that’s OK?’

Evelyn nodded and continued slicing tomatoes.

‘Don’t worry about lunch for him, though; he never eats until the evening.’

‘Of course he must eat,’ Evelyn said bluntly. ‘There’ll be plenty.’

Mandy felt the atmosphere charged and heavy. ‘Can I get myself a drink of water?’

‘Of course.’

She took a glass from the cupboard and went to the tap. Evelyn concentrated on the sandwiches.

‘Do you want some help?’ Mandy asked, trying to break the tension.

‘No, I’ve nearly finished. We’ll have these for supper. I’ve given Mrs Saunders the day off as she’s coming in tomorrow.’

Mandy nodded and started towards the door.

‘Mandy?’

She stopped, turned and met her aunt’s gaze.

‘What I said earlier. You do understand why your father has to be the one to tell you? It was his decision to handle it in the way he did. I can’t risk upsetting him again, and having another ten years without speaking.’

Mandy gave a small shrug. ‘I guess. As much as I understand anything at present.’

‘So you’ll talk to him?’

‘Yes, but not tomorrow. Later, when this is all over.’

Evelyn gave a faint smile and appeared relieved. ‘Thanks, Mandy. And thanks for coming back to help. We’re very grateful. John says he doesn’t know what he’d have done without you, and he feels it has helped smooth things between you.’

‘What was there to smooth between John and me?’ Mandy asked, surprised.

Evelyn looked away. ‘Oh, you know…it wasn’t easy for any of us. But your father must be the one to tell you.’

There was clearly no point in pressing Evelyn and making her feel uncomfortable. Mandy continued into the study where Gran was sitting beside the bed, holding Grandpa’s hand, exactly as she’d left them the previous afternoon. She glanced up and smiled. ‘I knew you wouldn’t desert us, Mandy.’

‘No. I wouldn’t do that.’