Authors: Penelope evans
You can
understand my state of mind though. It's not every day you become fond of
someone only to discover that they seem to be a completely different person in
private. I could quite easily have walked away from it with just one question
left in my mind: how Ethel could be such a snob as to allow all this.
This is what
stops me: the second thing that hits you when you walk in, only it takes a
moment to sink in. It's the smell.
It's lovely.
That's what's so surprising. No, really. It's a smell of scent and soap and
talc, mixed up, dare I say it, with all the soot and traffic fumes from
outside. Because believe it or not, as if the place wasn't chilly enough, the
silly kid has actually gone out and left the window open. But it's still
lovely. Grown-up, yet at the same time youthful as bubble bath. You wouldn't
believe the effect a smell like that can have - coming at you when you're least
expecting it. And it's familiar. I must have been catching whiffs of it every
day since she arrived, only so faintly I never realized it was there. But now,
with it coming at you in waves, you couldn't mistake it. It was Mandy all over.
Shut your eyes and you could almost imagine she was there, looking over your
shoulder, close enough to touch.
Of course
that was being a little fanciful - talking as though she was a bar of soap or
something. More accurate would be to say it was due to what she had scattered
all. over her dressing table, to the jumble of bottles and jars taking up just
about every square inch. Another small wonder when you think of Ethel, letting
her get away with it. A real girl's mess, but there it all was - the reason my
Mandy smells like she does. Clean and fresh and smoky as a rooftop garden.
Get on with
it, Larry.
I didn't
close my eyes - even if I was tempted. I came into this room with a purpose and
I never once forgot that. I just wanted to say that it's true, about smells
being the most powerful influences of all. After a few seconds, however, I was
back on form and ready for a proper look round. For want of a better place, I started
with under the bed, got down on my hands and knees and everything, and found -
nothing, just a couple of pairs of shoes with no heels to speak of and looking
as if they could have belonged to a kid. Having had no luck there, I inspected
her bedside table and it was the same story, only a pile of books so high it
would probably have wobbled if you so much as looked at it. There she was
again, then, my Mandy acting just like June, piling up all her books because
she never knew which one she wanted to read before dropping off. We used to
tell her, June, that she would ruin her eyes but she never listened. Now here
was Mandy, just as bad. So that really only left the dressing table.
I can tell
you now what I was looking for. I didn't know before, but now I did, seeing I
was standing there with the influence of Mandy all around me, inspiring me as
it were. I was looking for a photograph, that's what. A snapshot, no matter how
blurry or old, of her parents maybe, a little souvenir of hearth and home. It
would mean that even if I never found anything else, I'd come away having
learned something just from looking at their faces and the way they smiled for
the camera. And so it hit me - absolutely the queerest thing of all - in
amongst those bits and pieces, the bottles and the boxes and the scarves and
the beads, there wasn't a single photograph.
That threw
me, I don't mind saying it. I even set off around the room again in case I'd
missed something. I know they had quarrelled and all that, but you always have
something up, even if it's just for show. And then suddenly, I had another
thought. If this was June we were talking about, where would be the first place
you'd look? In the drawer beside her bed. She could keep any number of photos
there. Handy for those occasions when she's feeling just that bit sentimental.
All she'd need to do was accidentally-on-purpose open the drawer, and there
they would be, her mum and her dad, smiling at her as if nothing had happened.
Well, you
know how it is when you get a good idea I mean when· one moment you're at a
loss, and the next, a light goes on in your head - you don't think about
anything else. The second this one hits me, I'm over by that table, pulling
open the bedside drawer, just to see if I was right. The only thing on my mind
was the snapshots, how the moment I opened the drawer there they would be,
staring up at me, the way they would at Mandy. It was only when the drawer was
open and I found myself, instead, gazing down at a letter, lying there without
an envelope or anything, that I realized what I was doing, i.e. taking a peek
inside somebody else's drawer. Something I never meant to do, not in a hundred
years. Cupboards maybe, but not bedside drawers ... On top of which, there was
the disappointment. See, there wasn't a snapshot in sight. Only this one
letter.
Hence the
little voice, the one that never would have been there otherwise, whispering in
my ear, 'Oh well, Larry boy. You're here now. You might as well.'
But here's
the difficult bit. I'd no sooner than picked it up when something else
happened. The door behind me opened and someone walked into the room. I thought
of Mandy, and straightaway I panicked.
The silly
thing, the absolutely ridiculous thing about it was, I didn't need to panic. I
had a perfectly good reason for being there, one I could have explained to
anyone who knows me for the man I am.
But what if Mandy hadn't
known me long enough? What if she got completely the wrong idea?
I say this in
retrospect, to explain why I did what I did. It wasn't even a case of me stopping
to think. All I knew was I had to get the letter back inside and the drawer
shut, and me away from the drawer, as fast as was humanly possible. The
mistake, though, was in trying to do everything at once. I threw the letter
into the drawer, shut it, and jumped back from the bed, all in one smooth
movement. Yet what happens next is horrible. Instead of ending up innocently on
the other side of the room, I find I'm down on my knees again, below the level
of the bed, choking and making a horrible noise. Because along with everything
else, I'd slammed my tie inside the drawer, gone pretty near to strangling
myself to death. I had to start all over again - open the drawer, retrieve my
tie, and close the drawer - just to be able to turn around.
And all this,
just to find Ethel Duck scowling across the bed at me.
But it could
have been worse. That's what I told myself as I went about straightening my tie
and getting the air back into my passageways. Of course I'd have rather she
hadn't seen me picking my hairpiece off the floor and putting it back in place,
but it could have been so much worse. If it had been Mandy there, for instance
... You don't need me to tell you what the young are like. They would rather
believe in Santa Claus than the truth when it comes from those who are old
enough to know. So it could have been so very much worse.
Then again,
looking at Ethel now, perhaps not. Not with the face she was wearing, and a
mouth set like concrete; all ready to ask the very same question Mandy would
have asked if she were here.
Well go ahead, Larry, I
can hear you say. Tell her the truth.
At least she knows you. But you
should know it's not as simple as that, not with Ethel. She has a way of
twisting the plain honest truth into something far nastier than lies could ever
be. Some of her comments about me and Doreen for instance ...
But it was no
good thinking about the past, not when we were in the here and now, and Ethel
was standing there, about to put me through the mill. What was needed right
this minute was an answer to that still unspoken question - to explain what I
was doing there, rifling through Mandy's private drawers. Only there wasn't
one, at least not one that would satisfy. The fact is then, Ethel hasn't even
opened her mouth, and yet here I am, scrabbling about inside my head for the
word, any word, that will take the look off her face, knowing all the while
that nothing I say will make a blind bit of difference.
And then it
happened. A miracle. One moment I'm gazing across at Ethel, helpless, quivering
under the axe, and the next it's just as if someone has switched on a
thousand-watt bulb inside my head. It was as clear as that.
In short, I'm
describing the way things look when you shine the Light of Truth upon them.
Ethel might
well ask what I was doing in Mandy's bedroom, but what was to stop me asking
her exactly the same question? Because the pure fact of the matter was, she
didn't have any more right to be there than I did. In actual fact, she had much
less right. And why? Because her only reason for coming in here was to snoop
and pry, to touch things that weren't hers, and leave her marks all over them.
But me - I was there for a different reason altogether. I was there for Mandy's
sake and Mandy's sake only. And that's what gave me the right.
The effect is
like magic. I stand up straight at last and just stare right back at her, as
much as to say, 'Fire away, I'm ready for you.'
Ethel is
speechless. Nothing like this has ever happened before, someone turning the
tables on her. There was no telling what would have happened next. There's a
horrible look in her eye, but I don't flinch, not for a second. My blood was up
and I was ready for anything.
Downstairs in
the hall, a door slammed.
Say no more.
We must have been out of that room faster than you could have said knife. Not
bad for a couple of OAPs. Mind you it was a full five minutes before I got my
breath back. Meantime, downstairs, Ethel is having a go at Gilbert for getting
out of his chair without a doctor's certificate - and nearly giving her a heart
attack.
Looking back
then, you might say it had all been a bit of a failure. Only that is where you
would be wrong. Something very important happened down there in Mandy's
bedroom. Today was a turning point. From now on, things are going to be
different around here, because I've discovered a way to help Mandy more than
she could possibly guess.
You see, as
from today, Ethel isn't going to find it so easy to poke her nose where it
doesn't belong. Why? For the simple reason that I'm going to be on the case.
The moment Ethel finishes her rounds, I'm going to be straight down there after
her. And whatever she touches, whatever she moves, Larry will be there, putting
it all back where it belongs. I'll get to know the place like the back of my hand,
learn where everything goes. That way, when Mandy comes home, she'll hardly
know Ethel's been in. Of course, Ethel herself will know all about it. But what
can she say? She can't even lock the doors. Larry's had his own keys since
before she ever came. And she's never going to ask for them back. In the event
of a fire and ·a locked door, who's going to break it down - Gilbert? Hardly.
Who knows then, given all that, as well as our little meeting just now, she
might even abandon the visits altogether. But Larry won't. He'll keep on
coming, just to be sure, traipsing up and down those stairs for as long as his
old legs will carry him.
And the
result of all this? Mandy will be able to call the place her own again. Not
that she'll know a thing about it. Because Larry will be going about his work
in secret, without thanks, without praise, just doing what friends are supposed
to do.
And one more thing. That letter, the cause of all the
trouble; it wasn't very long. Short enough, luckily - or maybe unluckily, depending
on your point of view - to take in at a glance, and think about later.
'Dear Ms Tyson,' was what
it said. 'We regret the problems you describe at your present address, but we
are unable to offer you anything by way of an alternative at this time. We can
only suggest that you count yourself fortunate in the current climate in
having anywhere to stay at all. Yours sincerely, etcetera etcetera, University
Accommodation Office.
Or words to
that effect.
Well of
course it was a blow. You can see what she's been up to. I could have sworn the
old kid was all settled. But I hadn't counted on Ethel, had I? Obviously she's
driven the poor girl half out of her mind. They've given her short shrift,
though, at that university of hers, telling her to be thankful for what she's
got. All the same it's going to keep me awake tonight, knowing she's not a
hundred per cent happy. It comes from thinking I must have let her down in some
way. Quite clearly, she still doesn't know how much she is appreciated.
Otherwise she'd never want to leave.
It's not
something I like to think about, Mandy not happy, down there, by herself. Mandy
always on the lookout for somewhere else to live. It's time she knew who her
friends are, and fortunately Larry's got just the idea to put her in the
picture.
Mission, as they say, accomplished.
You can say
this about Larry Mann: he's only got to have an idea, and he'll be up and at
it, making it happen. In other words, I'd no sooner made up my mind after that
little showdown in Mandy's bedroom, than I was reaching for my coat. Not to
mention my wallet. I didn't even stop to have my lunch.
I've been
spending money. Not on any old rubbish though, forking out just for the sake of
it. Larry knew what he had in mind before he so much as put a foot outside the
door. After that, it was just a case of finding the right place.
Lucky for me
- bearing in mind that I hadn't had that bit of lunch - I didn't have to go
far. Two stalls up from Harry's pitch to be exact. You can find just about anything
there, under the covers where Harry operates. You only need to know where to
look. The other side of the coin was I had to go all the way round the world so
as to avoid being caught by Harry, but that was no great hardship, considering
the time I would be saving.
You see,
there were other things I learned this morning as well, even if it didn't all
register at the time. But later on, back upstairs, they were blindingly obvious
- a couple of clues about the old kid that were just about as telling as
anything she could have put into words. To wit, she's filled those rooms of
hers with all sorts of awful junk - postcards, native clothes, books galore -
yet she still doesn't have one or two items that most folk simply couldn't do
without.
I'll give you
an example. Half the world would never get up in the morning if it weren't for
the old alarm clock banging away in their ear. Probably carry on and sleep till
noon. But once they are awake, what's the first thing most people reach for, to
make up for the fact? The radio, that's what. A little bit of music is a must.
Most folk would just roll over and go back to sleep otherwise. What I'm saying
is, show me one person who doesn't have a clock or a radio.
Well, I've
found one. None other than our Mandy. Unbelievable, but true. And I tell you
what, it explains why she's up at all different times of the day - and then is
looking so down in the mouth for the rest of it. The poor girl hasn't got the
barest essentials for living!
So having
found this out, what does Larry do? Only march straight out and buy her the two
of them combined. In other words - a clock radio. To be serious, it's a lovely
little thing. Compact? You've never seen anything like it. And cheap. It's
Japanese of course, but what can you do? They all are nowadays, and anyway, so
is my organ, but that hardly detracts. The main thing is, it
looks
as if it cost
a bomb. It's all in the design. Anything black, and you're made. To me, though,
that's almost the best thing. If you want someone to know they're appreciated,
it's no good giving them something that looks as if it just cost a few bob.
It's got to look special. Because that's what I want Mandy to know - that she's
special, and Larry thinks the world of her.
So what do
you think? Will a girl like Mandy be able to ignore a present like this? Of
course she won't. In one fell blow, the old kid is going to know who her
friends are, once and for all.
Mind you, it
went to my head a bit, handing over the money and getting such a thrill because
of it. I didn't want to put my purse away after. I was a fool to myself really,
going around just looking for something else to spend my money on. They can see
you coming then. Anyway, all I did was stop to have a listen of the canaries -
about fifty of them - singing their little hearts out on the pet stall, and the
next thing knew, I was opening my purse again. What you could sincerely call
an impulse buy. The man said I should have two, to keep each other company. But
I knew what he was up to, and besides, I'll be there, won't I - better than
another bird any day. Mind you, I hadn't quite banked on the rest - the cage
and the feed and the mirror etcetera. On top of all that, another blooming bird
would have been almost incidental.
Still you've
got to treat yourself now and then, and we're all home now. He - Joey - is on
the organ next to the woodland animals, getting used to his new surroundings.
Only trouble is, he doesn't seem too keen on singing at the moment.
But that's
just by the by. The important thing is that right this very minute, sitting on
Mandy's kitchen table is one small - or not so small- item that's going to
change everything. And if I could have one wish now, it would be to see her
face when the old kid gets home.
Then again, when does anything ever turn out the way you
think it will? The answer, in Larry Mann's experience, is never. Yet as the
person who knows her best in this house, I really should have suspected it.
Never expect the obvious from Mandy.
There was
something odd just in the way she came in this evening, something very unlike
the Mandy we've got used to by now. It was there in the way she let the front
door slam behind her and then came up the stairs with a racket you'd never
think was her. It was as if she was letting on that she was home and didn't
care who knew it. And you'll be telling me I'm daft now, but just for those few
seconds I found myself thinking that if this was a normal night, and there was
nothing waiting for her on the kitchen table, I wouldn't be seeing hide nor hair
of her this evening either.
The funny
thing is, though, right at the very top, she stopped, hesitated as if she was
listening. It was as if she had sensed for herself that something was up. Then
I could almost hear her shrug, open up her kitchen door, and walk in.
I was in my
kitchen at the time, and I can honestly say that for the next three or four
minutes I don't suppose I moved a muscle. I stood there with a dishcloth in my
hand, straining for the slightest sound from downstairs - such as a squeak, or
a squeal even. But that was just it. I didn't hear a thing, not even a whisper.
In the end I couldn't bear it any more, and I knew I had to do something,
anything, to take the stress out of the waiting.
Thankfully I
had just the thing for occasions like this, and the only silly part was that I
hadn't thought of it five minutes ago. I hurried into the lounge and lifted
Joey out of the way. A touch of the switch and that wonderful organ of mine
shivers into life. Lights glow and there comes the low hum that tells you it's
awake and ready to go. The question now is what to play for her, but even
that's not hard. A moment later the whole room, the entire house is swinging
along to the only song for Mandy, the one that goes: 'If you were the only girl
in the world'.
The effect is
instant, magical and romantic. Not that romance figured, naturally. I'm only
talking about the music. But the fact is, I forgot about what I'd been
listening out for all this time, and gave myself up to the enchantment of the
melody. And when that song ended, I launched into another, no! a whole medley
off the cuff - of all the old favourites: 'Moon River' and 'Yesterday' and 'Tie
a yellow ribbon', while under the music, the organ hummed and winked its lights
at me.
Then
suddenly, the mood changed somehow. For no reason at all I had the feeling that
I wasn't alone. I stopped playing and turned around.
She
was standing there, had been for
Lord knows how long. I'd been so lost in the music I hadn't even heard her. And
don't laugh - it gave me a real jolt, because it was just like a film, where
someone plays his heart out for someone else, never realizing she's there all
the time.
Then I saw
her face, and before I know what's happening I've braced myself. Her face was
wrong. The way I’d imagined things - and imagined them I had, down to the last
detail - she was supposed to come running up here, the clock radio clasped in
her arms, her face lit up with girlish joy. Well, she had the clock radio all
right, but she wasn't holding it. It was there on the coffee table between us,
closer to me than it was to her. And of course there was her face. The one
thing I could say for sure about that was, girlish joy simply didn't come into
it.
If only she
had said something it would have helped. But that was the whole problem. She
wasn't saying a word. She wasn't even looking at me not as such. Having someone
stare at the level of your cardigan is not the same thing. Just for a second
then I had the wild hope that there was simply something nasty on my tie, but
of course, when I took a quick peep, there was nothing. Mandy was just being
Mandy - only more so.
And still she
wasn't saying anything. I waited and waited, but nothing came out. It was up to
me then. Trouble was, I didn't want to be the first. In the end though, there
was nothing for it. We couldn't stand there forever.
'Hello,
stranger,' I said. 'What’s this you've got here then?'
'You know
very well, Larry.' Not a hint of a smile. She didn’t even look up. My cardigan
was still all that interested her. And that is when I realized that something
had gone horribly wrong. But you know how it is when a situation begins to go
haywire. You press on anyway, because you can't think what else to do. Trying
your best to sound normal and cheerful when everyone else is acting like
strangers. Sort of hoping that if you can only carry on regardless, it will all
sort itself out ...
So I said,
'Oh, you must mean the clock radio.' I think I even attempted a chuckle. 'What
do you think of it then?'
And there it
was - her last chance to turn all this around. Because that was her cue to say,
'Oh Larry, of course
I mean the clock radio. As for what I think about it, what can I say? How can I
ever thank you?'
Which would have been my cue for all sorts of things.
But I knew the
moment the words were out of my mouth that it wasn't going to turn out like
that. She didn't even try to answer me. She just moved forward a little and
pushed the radio even closer to my side of the table.
Which all but
did for me. Yet even then it didn't stop me trying to keep things on a level.
'You don't want to do that, Mandy love. It's yours, didn't you know?' Then,
laughing to show I was joking, I gave the radio a little push back towards her
and said, 'You're not trying to make me change my mind, are you?'
You know what
she did as it came towards her? She jumped back, fast, as if it was all set to
bite her.
Well, that
was it. Finally I lost my nerve. 'Oh for Pete's sake, Mandy love, what's got
into you? You're going to have me in all sorts of trouble in a moment. When a
person doesn't know what to think there's no knowing where it might end. You
don't realize what the strain can do to some folk. Say something, won't you?'
After which I
don't know when I've ever heard such a silence. As far as I was concerned
though, I'd said all I had to say, I was that distressed. If Mandy didn't speak
up, then that would have been all there was to it. There's nothing you can say
when someone's refusing to take part.
As it turned
out though, even Mandy couldn't leave it like that, and finally speak up she
did.
'You're very
kind, Larry,' I heard her say - just. She was that quiet. She sounded like she
needed to clear her throat. 'You're very kind,' she said-again. 'But I'm giving
this back, do you understand?'
Well no, of
course I didn't understand. How could I? In a normal world, you give a person
the present of their dreams, and they come at you with thanks flying, not this,
pushing the present back at you like it was the last thing they wanted.
'The radio's
for you,' I said again. It was all I could say. 'That means you keep it.' It
was like trying to explain something for the twentieth time to a backward kid.
'No, Larry,'
she says. Now her voice is fainter than ever. 'It doesn't have to mean I keep
it. I've tried to explain before, but this is worse than anything. You're
making me feel ...Oh how can I explain?'
'Try me,' is
what I say.
Two little
words, and yet they do the trick. For the first time she looks me in the eye,
sees the expression on my face. And this is Mandy we're talking about,
remember. And suddenly, out it all comes, enough words for a week. You could
see that she had it all planned, but it didn't come out that way. For one
thing, she was mumbling and muttering that badly it was just one great jumble.
She was barely making any sense. But the point was, I'd got her talking.
It was
exactly then that I started to feel a lot better. Give me a Mandy muttering,
getting herself all confused, any day. It’s a lot less worrying than the same
girl standing there, not saying a word. You don't know what she might have
stored up then. But now she'd got started, and what did it amount to? Precisely
nothing. All you could see was someone getting herself into a right old state,
talking about needing more space, or some such nonsense, as if she thought I
could do anything about it. If the old kid felt she didn't have enough room,
she should speak to Ethel. In the end, I did what anyone would have done. I put
her out of her misery. Interrupted her before she broke down altogether and
turned us both into nervous wrecks.
'Oh cheer
up,' I told her. 'What do you want to go making such a fuss for? It's just a
little present from Larry, that's all it is. Just take it in the spirit it's
given.'
Harmless
enough words, you may think, but you should have seen the effect on Mandy. All
of a sudden, she stops her muttering and looks at me, straight in the eye. And
shouts. 'Big, little, it's all the same. You keep on doing it, giving me
things. It's driving me mad. Can't you see, what you're doing, it's not
ordinary?'
Talk about
the mouse that roared! Quite took me by surprise it did, Mandy suddenly upping
the volume like that. Naturally, I was taken aback, but one of us had to stay
calm. So I kept my cool, looked right back at her and said quietly, and maybe a
little sorrowfully, 'I'm not with you, Mandy love. What is it that old Larry's
been doing?'