The Girl in the Mirror. Cathy Glass
Immediately they were all on their feet, rushing out of the dining room. John went first; Mandy followed with her father while Evelyn held back to help Gran. Arriving in the study they found Grandpa on the floor beside the bed, having fallen trying to get out. He was on his side with one leg splayed behind the other. His eyes were half open and he was struggling to sit up, confused. John and her father went to him as Mandy hovered anxiously behind them. ‘Does anything hurt, Dad?’ John asked.
Grandpa shook his head and tried to sit up again.
‘Let’s get you back to bed,’ John said. He turned to her father. ‘I don’t think anything is broken.’
Mandy stood by the bed as her father and uncle, one either side of Grandpa, eased him into a sitting position. He let out a small moan and tried to say something.
‘Sorry, Dad?’ John said, lowering his ear. ‘You’ve fallen. Ray’s here. We’ll get you back into bed.’
Grandpa shook his head and whispered something.
‘OK, Dad. Hold on a minute.’ Then to Mandy: ‘Can you take the top off the commode?’
Mandy looked round for the commode.
‘It’s that chair,’ Evelyn said, pointing, having just come in with Gran. ‘The top comes off.’
Mandy went to the chair and began grappling with the vinyl-covered seat, not knowing if it lifted or rose on a hinge.
‘Give it a good pull,’ John said, an edge of impatience creeping into his voice. ‘The whole seat lifts off.’ To Grandpa he added: ‘Hold on, Dad, nearly there.’
She yanked the seat and it came off in her hand, revealing a white plastic toilet seat with a bowl suspended below.
‘Bring it closer, will you?’ John demanded.
She dragged the commode to just in front of Grandpa. He was still in a sitting position on the floor, supported either side by John and her father.
‘On the count of three,’ John said to her father. ‘We need to lift him and then swing him sideways and down, on to the seat.’
Mandy saw anxiety flash across her father’s face. John knew what he was doing but neither her father nor she did.
‘One…two…three,’ John said, and they began to lift.
Mandy watched with dismay as they lifted Grandpa on to his feet and then manoeuvred him round and down on to the commode like a large rag doll. The second before his bottom touched the seat, John pulled down his pyjama trousers. Mandy looked away. It was pathetic and demeaning: her tall, strong, proud Grandpa who, until a couple of weeks ago, had kept fit by swimming every week, now slumped on the commode, with his eyes half open and pyjama trousers round his knees. He looked like a giant toddler on a potty.
There was quiet as her father and John waited either side of Grandpa. She waited with Evelyn and Gran at the foot of the bed, all of them averting their eyes. Then the silence was broken by the trickle of water as Grandpa began to relieve himself. Her father fled the room. Gran turned her walking frame and followed him out, while Evelyn, focusing on the practical, went to Grandpa’s empty bed and began stripping the sheets. ‘He needs clean ones,’ she said matter-of-factly.
‘And pyjama trousers,’ John added. ‘But his top is dry.’
Mandy watched in awe as John steadied Grandpa with one hand and, kneeling down, began trying to ease off the wet pyjama trousers with the other. Realizing she could finally do something to help, she went to where her father had stood, just behind Grandpa, and placed her hands on his shoulders to support him.
‘Thanks, Mandy,’ John said. With both hands free he was able to slide off the wet trousers, which he passed to Evelyn. Grandpa relaxed back on the commode.
‘I’ll check your dad is all right when I’ve put this in the wash,’ Evelyn said to Mandy. ‘It’s a lot for him to cope with – seeing his father like this.’
‘It’s a lot for you to cope with too,’ Mandy said.
Evelyn met her gaze and in that look Mandy saw not a grown woman in control, but a small girl who was struggling to cope as best she could with her dying father, and wasn’t really coping at all.
‘Yes,’ Evelyn said quietly. ‘It is.’ Her face crumpled, and as she hurried from the room Mandy saw she was silently weeping.
Mandy stayed by Grandpa, a reassuring hand resting on each of his shoulders, and waited. By standing behind him, at least she was preserving some of his modesty she thought, but it was a pathetically small amount given what he’d lost. John finished straightening the mattress protector on the bed ready for the clean sheet and then came over and lowered his mouth to Grandpa’s ear. ‘Dad, have you finished?’ he asked gently.
Grandpa moaned.
‘Dad, have you finished on the commode?’ he tried again patiently.
‘Yes,’ her grandpa said.
‘OK, hang on there. Evelyn is fetching some clean pyjamas, then we’ll get you back into bed.’
When Evelyn returned with the clean sheets and pyjama trousers she and John fell into what Mandy guessed was a well-practised routine. Evelyn passed the trousers to John and he began easing Grandpa’s feet into them while she made up the bed. Mandy remained where she was. She could feel the warmth of his body through the material of his pyjama jacket; could smell the soap that had been used to wash him – different from the one he usually used. He was so quiet and still as they worked she couldn’t tell if he was awake or dozing. She kept her gaze directed into the centre of the room and tried to picture Grandpa as he used to be.
‘OK, Dad,’ John said. ‘On the count of three we’ll get you to stand. Can you help, Mandy?’
Moving her hands from Grandpa’s shoulders, she placed them under his left arm and helped raise him off the commode and into a standing position. As they did, Evelyn quickly pulled up his pyjamas and the three of them then eased Grandpa into bed and on to the pillows. How John and Evelyn had coped alone for nearly a week Mandy had no idea.
‘All right, Dad?’ Evelyn asked as Grandpa lay back on the pillow. She tenderly stroked his forehead.
He groaned slightly and then gave a small nod.
‘Good man,’ John said. ‘I bet you’re exhausted after that. Try and get some sleep.’
Mandy was touched by the dignity John and Evelyn gave Grandpa as well as their ability to actually nurse him. Neither of them had had any nursing experience as far as she knew, but both seemed to know how to manoeuvre him in a way that caused minimum discomfort. Their efficiency seemed to highlight her father’s inefficiency and his inability to cope. Since arriving he’d hardly been in the same room as his father, and although she appreciated why, it didn’t help. ‘I’ll go and find Dad,’ she said.
Evelyn nodded. ‘He’s in the morning room with Gran.’
Outside the study, Mandy turned left, instinctively aware she would find the morning room at the end of the hall. It was strange: she seemed to know the layout of the downstairs of the house without any conscious recollection of being in the rooms. Mrs Saunders came towards her, on her way to the kitchen, carrying a tray of plates from lunch. ‘Miss,’ she said, acknowledging her and smiling as they passed. Mandy thought how odd it must be, having someone other than family in the house, but then again Mrs Saunders appeared so well integrated she was like a family member.
The door to the morning room was slightly ajar. As Mandy approached she could hear her father and Gran talking quietly, in the middle of a conversation.
‘I’m not saying anything to her,’ her father said. ‘Not now.’
Mandy heard Gran tut, then: ‘It’s your decision, obviously, Ray, but now seems a very good time to me.’ And although the ‘her’ could have applied to her aunt or even