“I think we’ve got the worst of it, Rose.” Mum exhaled, her cheeks pink with the exertion. “I’d better get Madam up here for a bath. You too, young lady.”
“Lois,” I shouted. “Bath’s ready.”
“Oh no, what’s she crying about now?” Mum looked frazzled, so I offered to go and fetch Lois and see what all the boo-hooing was about. I reached the kitchen and she was standing in the doorway wailing. Tears were cascading down her face, tiredness etched under her eyes, Bea (her cuddly bunny) in her arms.
“Come on Lois what’s wrong?”
“I want my rice pudding.”
“Well, wasn’t Frances doing it for you?”
“She was,” she stuttered, “and she put it into the microwave, but then they all rushed into the hall and disappeared, and I can’t reach the microwave.”
My heart sank. “Where did they go, Lois? Did you see them?”
“They left me without my rice pudding.”
“Yes, alright, I’ll do your rice pudding, here.”
I skidded over to the microwave and summoned it to life.
“Sit down, and I’ll bring it over.”
They must have gone through the wall, they must have. Could Lois have seen something? I had to prise the information out of her in such a way that didn’t get her into a strop. How I wished Adi had been here just a few moments earlier. He would have found a way of seeing where they’d gone. Why did they vanish so quickly? As if by magic, my question was immediately answered by the sound of a key in the lock.
DAD.
I guess they fled because they knew he was about to come home. I handed Lois her rice pudding, which she attacked with gusto.
“Hey, Dad,” I called as he started for the stairs.
Then I could hear the muffled voices of my parents. They didn’t argue very often. Dad said he didn’t “do rows” and that Mum often ended up fighting with herself. This was definitely a row though.
“What’s happened up here, Rae? The floor’s soaked!”
“The bath overflowed.”
“For Christ’s sake, that’s not the first time. Can’t you be a bit more careful? We can’t afford for the ceiling to come down in the kitchen.”
“What would you know? You’re never here,” Mum said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what it says. You’re never here. When you are here, you might as well be at work. You hardly speak to me. You never even look at me. I could be walking around in a fig leaf for all you care. You can’t even muster up any enthusiasm to congratulate me on my job.”
“That’s a bit unfair. I was going into a meeting when you rang,” Dad explained.
“You’re always JUST doing something, and I’m sick of it! I do everything in this house, and I just need a little bit of appreciation from you. Actually, I’d just like to be noticed. That’s all.”
“I’m doing my best here. I’m working long hours. I’m exhausted.”
“So am I, John. So am I. Look just forget it. I need to get the kids bathed. Lois, Rosemary!” she screamed.
I hated hearing my parents fight. I could see their anger and sadness and disappointment in a physical way. Dad would be surrounded by grey. His raincloud might have thunder cracking around it or it might just be black, depending on whether he was feeling angry or just resigned to it all. Mum would have dark purple with fiery red around her, which would then fade to smudgy grey. It was distressing to see.
I was so caught up in my thoughts, I barely heard Lois say as we started to climb the stairs, “The lady in the mirror looked so cross, because she was having her tea.”
“Hang on, what did you say, Lois?”
“Actually,” (this was currently her favourite word and she used it ALL the time), “I said the lady in the mirror was cross.”
I held my breath and grabbed her halfway up the stairs. We could see the aforementioned mirror over the bannisters.
“Was the lady in that mirror?” I said, pointing to the big mirror hanging over the radiator in the hall.
“Actually, yes. I saw Frances and Mr Foggerty and Uncle Vic talk to her and then they walked through the wall.”
“How did they get the lady in the mirror to appear? What did they do?”
“You’re hurting me, Rose. Let go of my arm.”
“Listen, Lois, if you tell me, you can have my Build-A-Bear to cuddle tonight, and I’ll let you use the purple tablet to play on. Just, please, try to remember.”
“Can I play with your LOL doll, too?”
I sighed. My sister drove a hard bargain.
“Yes, okay.”
Lois paused for effect, I think. She was good at being a drama queen.
“Mr Foggerty just pressed something underneath the mirror and said ARADIA three times.”
“Are you sure, Lois? Sounds like a word that you just made up.”
Lois shrugged me off. “Actually, yes, and I want my bath. Muuuum!”
I let her go into the steaming bathroom with its shiny, wet floor. My mother was sitting on the closed seat of the loo. Her arms were outstretched toward Lois. She looked defeated.
All I could do was mutter the word over and over again under my breath:
Aradia.
Aradia.
Aradia.
7
The Portal
That night I lay awake in bed, my brain going over the events of the day. I couldn’t stop thinking about THE STRANGER. What on earth did they want? Where had Phyllis disappeared to? What was through the wall? And why was there such a sense of urgency to everything that Mr Foggerty, Uncle Vic, and Frances did? I could feel the unrest in the house.
Lois had needed so many huggles, partly because she was tired and partly because she had been left waiting so long for her rice pudding. Dad had gone to bed early having barely spoken to anyone. Mum had stayed up late reading lines from her play. I could hear her practising her American accent.
Eventually, she’d crept up to bed, and through the moonlight shining into my bedroom I could just make out the time on my clock: 11:51pm. I was suddenly gripped by curiosity. I replayed the moment when Adi had dropped the pebble right by the bottom of the mirror and how it had floated so effortlessly. I wondered if it would do the same for me. Perhaps if I muttered the word “Aradia” something might happen?
Before I’d had a chance to really think through the consequences of my actions, I was out of bed and creeping softly downstairs. I didn’t want to go in the kitchen and disturb the cats, so I found a pen by the telephone in the hall that I thought would suffice nicely in lieu of a pebble.
I stood in front of the mirror, my ghostly reflection looking back at me. I was pale. My thick, blonde hair was ruffled and sat unruly in big curls just above my shoulders. I could see the dark shadows underneath my eyes. My dad had the same when he was tired, and so did Lois. The three of us took on a sort of unworldly, gaunt, wide-eyed look when we were weary. I also had my dad to thank for the size of my eyes, though. Like him, Lois and I had huge round pools; mine green, hers grey blue like Mum’s.
I felt a little fizz of excitement in my tummy as I held the pen aloft just above the centre of the mirror and let go.