seemed to pour out. I painted at weekends and some evenings after work. Now I have all the time in the world I can’t do anything. I’ve lost confidence. I haven’t a single thought in my head.’
‘Like me then.’ Gran smiled, lightly touching her arm. ‘But, Mandy, the main thing is you tried, love. That’s so important. Even if nothing comes of it you had a go. And you know Grandpa’s favourite saying?’
Mandy frowned questioningly. ‘I don’t. He’s got lots of sayings. Which one?’
Gran paused, looked at Grandpa as though bringing him into the conversation, and then quoted: ‘“It is better to have tried and failed, than never to have tried at all.”’ She looked again at Mandy, and there were tears forming in her eyes. ‘Don’t give up on your dreams, love. Stay with them or you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. I’m sure you’re talented, and I know when you find the right subject you’ll be able to paint. Then it will be from your heart and the painting will be perfect.’
As her father returned from the cloakroom Mandy said she would go. ‘It’s down the hall to the right,’ he said, pointing to the front of the house. ‘And your aunt said lunch is about to be served in the dining room. Apparently they always have lunch at this time,’ he added, ‘while Dad sleeps.’
‘OK, I’ll join you there,’ she said and left the study.
Mandy knew exactly where the cloakroom was without her father giving directions. It was reassuring that she remembered, but hardly surprising, given the number of times she must have used the downstairs toilet when she’d stayed as a child. Down to the end of the hall, turn right, and she knew the door marked ‘Cloakroom’ would be set in a recess on her left. It was a large room, she remembered, far larger that their toilet downstairs at home. In addition to the loo and washbasin, there had been a dressing table and matching chair, and another recess like a walk-in wardrobe where the coats and outdoor shoes were stored.
Eyes down, deep in thought, and concentrating on the pattern of the inlaid wooden floor, Mandy turned the corner. She stopped with a small cry of alarm. ‘I’m sorry,’ she exclaimed, flustered. ‘Sorry, I didn’t see you.’ She took a step back and looked at the man she’d just walked into. He was smiling at her, finding it amusing.
‘Hello, Mandy,’ he said, in a voice that she’d not heard for a long time. ‘Good to see you again. How are you?’
She looked at him, heard his voice and then her silence, and knew he had heard her silence too – the hesitation before she recognized him. ‘Uncle John. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were in the house. Evelyn didn’t say.’
He laughed indulgently. ‘Didn’t she? I was having a lie-down upstairs. I was up all night with Grandpa. How are you?’
‘I’m fine,’ she said, embarrassed she’d not immediately remembered him. He’d been like a second father to her when she’d stayed as a child but he’d changed dramatically since she’d last seen him and was nothing like the man in the one photo she had of him – playing with her and Sarah on the swings. He was obviously ten years older, but he’d put on weight and his face seemed wider, more jowly. What was left of his previous black hair was now grey. Only his voice had remained more or less the same.
‘You’re looking good, Mandy,’ he said, flashing the smile she remembered from her childhood. ‘I’d have recognized you anywhere.’
‘Thanks,’ she said, still embarrassed. ‘And you.’
He laughed. ‘I don’t think so but it’s nice of you to say so.’ His eyes held her until, uncomfortable, she looked away. ‘Anyway, it’s good to see you again,’ he said. ‘I understand lunch is ready.’
‘Yes, I’ll be there shortly.’ She stepped past him and into the cloakroom.
Closing the door behind her, Mandy slid the bolt. She leant with her back against the door, her heart pounding and thoughts racing. It had been a shock bumping into Uncle John like that – not only the suddenness of coming round the corner and walking straight into him, but actually seeing him again. Why hadn’t Evelyn said he was in the house – warned her? Perhaps it had slipped her mind, but then again there was no reason for Evelyn to warn her – she didn’t know there was anything to warn her about. Only Sarah had known, and she wouldn’t have told her mother. It was their secret, just theirs; they had sworn on their lives. For in the instant Mandy had recognized John she’d also remembered the crush she’d had on him. Going on thirteen and at the onset of puberty, she’d confided her crush in Sarah, who then admitted to having a crush on her uncle – Mandy’s father. They’d been convinced they were the only ones to have these feelings for older men and that if anyone had discovered they found their uncles attractive they would have been locked up and ostracized for good.
Mandy leant with her back against the cloakroom door. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. John, middle-aged, overweight and balding, once the object of her desire! How could she? How could she and Sarah? It seemed ludicrous now. But there was something else – something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, that was making her legs tremble and heart pound. Something that lurked in the shadows of her mind, another, separate reason for her panic. Something that challenged her explanation that it was the shock of bumping into John and remembering her crush that had made her so uncomfortable and embarrassed. Half remembered and then forgotten, a feeling rather than a thought, similar to when she’d first seen the house: as though she had something to be frightened of but couldn’t remember what.
Heaving herself away from the door Mandy crossed to the washbasin and turned on the tap. She splashed cold water over her burning cheeks and then patted her face dry on the hand-towel. The cloakroom looked different from how she’d remembered it – possibly the colour scheme had changed, for the dressing table and chair seemed the same, as did the door to the walk-in wardrobe. Perhaps it was the passage of time and the fact she was now taller that made the room look different? With a small sigh, she reined in her thoughts, used the toilet and then rinsed her hands. She checked her face in the mirror and left the cloakroom.
In the hall the chink of cutlery and china could be heard coming from the dining room at the end of the hall, but there was no conversation.
‘It’s a buffet, help yourself,’ Evelyn said cheerily as Mandy entered the dining room. Evelyn was seated at the far side of the long oak dining table which was covered with platters and serving bowls of food. ‘Mrs Saunders will get you something to drink.’
‘Just water, please,’ Mandy said to the housekeeper, who was waiting by the sideboard, and sat in the chair left vacant next to her father.
She was on the opposite side of the table to Evelyn and Gran, with John to her right at the head of the table. She kept her gaze away from John. So too did her father, she thought. He was concentrating on the table just in front of his plate, looking most uncomfortable. It seemed ridiculously formal for lunch, and the atmosphere was strained with them all together. Mandy looked at the array of cold meats, new potatoes, quiches and salads, and regretted agreeing to lunch; a sandwich on their laps would have been far more appropriate.
‘Quite a spread, isn’t it?’ Gran said dryly, glancing at her from across the table. ‘I told Evelyn not to go to so much trouble.’
‘We have to eat, Mum,’ Evelyn chided. ‘And it’s no trouble. Help yourself,
