Mirror Man by Jacques Kat (ereader for textbooks txt) 📗

towel to mop up the splash. ‘She doesn’t hate you, don’t ever say that again.’

‘She does, though. She said I took all her dreams away.’ I chewed on my cheek again.

‘Oh, JC, she doesn’t mean it. Mum doesn’t understand you, that’s all. It’s hard for her, seeing you every day. You look so much like Dad.’

‘People keep saying that, but I don’t think that’s it. She says I’m trapped in my own world of mirrors and reflections.’

‘I see,’ she said, chucking the damp tea towel on the worktop. ‘Well, I guess there’s no harm in telling you more. Mum isn’t entirely blameless in all of this. In my opinion, she’s partly the reason you are the way you are. Mum knows she has her faults, and she blames herself. Instead of facing the problems and trying to help you, she drinks them away and avoids you.’

I sighed. ‘I don’t want to be trapped, Tina. I want to be like everyone else.’

‘You’re unique, JC. Nothing wrong with that. If you want to be like others, it’s your decision. To me, you’re fine the way you are. However, if you need help coming up with a way forward, tell me. But don’t do it for Mum or other people—do it for you. Do you hear me, JC?’

‘Okay. I hear you.’

‘Me and Pete are going now, and I’ll see you Sunday, my little magpie. How do you feel about a hug today?’

‘A little one,’ I said. I wasn’t too keen on affection. I felt better about it if I was the one who initiated it. Tina knew how I felt and kept it short.

‘See you later, alligator.’

‘In a while, crocodile,’ I replied as I watched her walk away in the window.

Chapter Seven

I cleaned and scrubbed the kitchen until it sparkled. Everything was perfect and back in its place—the way I liked it. I checked my watch to find it was nearly nine o’clock. I’d been cleaning for almost two hours. So, I grabbed a nearby duster and made my way to bed, making sure to check every mirror I passed for any smears or dust.

As I lay in bed, the day’s events replayed in my mind like a black-and-white movie. First, I thought about Mr Phillips and the secrets he was keeping. But most of all, I thought long and hard about the baby’s arrival and the conversation I’d had with Tina.

I’d been brought home in a police car three times now, and I had no intention of increasing that number anytime soon. I figured there would be no harm if I kept my head up a bit more. I couldn’t very well push the baby to the park if I didn’t watch out for all the dangers that could befall him. Plus, I didn’t want to be trapped in my own world any longer. I wanted to look at people—for me, not anyone else. Perhaps I could gradually phase it in. It would be hard, but I could try. Maybe not now, but in the coming weeks, once I’d dealt with other matters.

I also needed to increase my search efforts if I was going to find The One. I would follow a few more men who I would have probably passed on before now. Attempts had to be doubled, and I would start first thing in the morning after I’d been to the library and found a book on babies. If I was going to be an uncle, I wanted to be the best one.

*

I didn’t know what time I fell asleep, but I slept right through ’til five a.m.. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d slept so long. I jumped out of bed, and when I looked in the mirror, a huge smile reflected back at me.

Complete happiness had swept over me in the night for the first time in years. It wasn’t as though I’d been unhappy until now, it was only that things hadn’t changed around here for years. I’d been stuck in a circle of cleaning, following, and working. Somehow, the news of the baby and the mystery in the shop had given me something else to think about, and that only filled me with happiness. Who’d have thought something so trivial could do that?

The joy made me decide to check on what Grandad had been tinkering with in the garage to see if I could help him out. I hadn’t been in there for a while what with work, cleaning, and searching for The One. I’d thought recently about starting with car mechanics again too. Maybe now was the ideal time.

I crept through the sleeping house, took Grandad’s keys off the hook in the kitchen, and slipped outside. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but it wouldn’t be long before that particular star lit up the sky with her presence. Damp fog lingered around the house, patiently waiting for the golden ball in the sky to burn through its thin layer.

I gently pulled open the garage doors and fumbled for the light switch on the wall. My hand mingled with several cobwebs which I wiped off on my jeans before finally locating the switch. The bulb flickered a couple of times before staying on.

Straight away, I saw what he was working on. A Lambretta GP200 scooter lay on its side. It looked battered and worse for wear, like it had been stood in a shed or garage for a long time. The dirty, yellow side panel had been placed to the side and some other parts had been removed to reveal the flywheel, which still had a socket and ratchet attached to the nut. Spanners had been wedged in places like doorstops to prevent it from rotating. It looked like Grandad had been trying to take the flywheel off but hadn’t been able to do it.

I knew he struggled with his hands these days. He said they hurt—especially in the cold weather—and when I had the chance to inspect them when he wasn’t looking, I