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| Mirror Image | |
| By AnnieSeed | ||||||||||||||||
| 14 May 2007 | ||||||||||||||||
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Mirror Image By Elizabeth Phillips Marian didn’t like sunny mornings. She prayed for rain almost every day – the heavier, the better. Her little car was parked snugly in her drive, three steps at the most from her door. She enjoyed the drive to work, especially when she sailed past the bus stop. But if Imogen wasn’t waiting there, the moment was ruined. She liked to see Imogen there, preferably cold and wet. One perfect day, thick, heavy snow had blanketed the town, enabling Marian to drive past Imogen, who had looked frozen. Marian enjoyed the warmth of the car, but even more she relished the thought of Imogen numb with cold. Mornings and evenings were Marian’s favourite times; when she left the office she said a polite good night to Imogen and left her to walk to the bus stop, whatever the weather. Once home, Marian always made a pot of tea, inhaling the fragrant steam and imagining Imogen still waiting for the bus. Thinking of her out there in the dark, cold and tired, gave Marian a sense of luxurious enjoyment in her own warmth and comfort. Marian lived a five minute walk from Imogen’s home; if she gave her a lift, Imogen could be home in twenty minutes at most, rather than the hour or so that it took her by having to wait for and travel on the bus. Knowing this and refraining from making the offer gave Marian a sadistic sense of power over the other woman. Marian was almost always in the office before Imogen, but there her pleasure evaporated. There she was surrounded by people who liked Imogen, with her infectious smile, her warm friendliness and sense of humour; Imogen, who couldn’t tell that Marian loathed her. It was true that Marian had her own few friends who would always support her, right or wrong, but it wasn’t enough. Marian begrudged Imogen the goodwill of anyone. She wanted her to be cast out, rejected by all. In fact Imogen was aware that Marian didn’t like her, although she was not aware of the extent of the other woman’s spiteful envy, and assumed she must have done something to offend her. Imogen was far from being the most attractive woman in the office, and it would never have occurred to her to suppose that her looks might have anything to do with Marian’s dislike. They had several other colleagues who were younger, slimmer and far prettier than Imogen, who was rather too plump for her own good health, and whose unruly hair only looked nice when fresh out of the hands of a good hairdresser. Imogen was blessed with a pair of expressive eyes, but even these assets were beginning to show the years, with fine lines beginning to mar their shape, and a tired puffiness showed that stress was taking its toll on her health. It was Imogen’s personality that made her popular. She liked people; she cared about them and their problems. She would go out of her way to be kind, and had a way of encouraging people to make the best of themselves and any situation in which they might find themselves. Someone worrying over being made redundant would be reminded by Imogen of their many skills and wealth of experience, and within half an hour they would be feeling positive and ready to find solutions. Marian would not normally have had a problem with this – she did not particularly enjoy seeing people suffer. She simply loathed Imogen and resented her having any good quality. Marian told herself that she “saw through” Imogen, whose whole persona she believed was put on to impress others. In short, Imogen was a fake. Whenever she saw or heard of Imogen having done anything kind for anyone, Marian rolled her eyes as if to say “here we go again!” It was surprisingly easy to foster an attitude of cynical scepticism towards Imogen, which gradually gained credence and led to Imogen being snubbed occasionally by people who believed she needed “taking down a peg or two” or “putting in her place”. Even so, Marian’s success was very limited and most of her colleagues were more inclined to see both women as they really were. Marian found this hard, grudging Imogen the possession of anything good, especially the goodwill of others. Marian had bought her little house many years ago and by dint of wisely using bonuses to reduce her mortgage, she had almost paid the whole amount off. It was true that she had no man and no children of her own, but she still cherished the hope that one day Harry James, whom she’d loved for as long as she could remember, would look at her in the way he looked at Imogen. It hadn’t been the first time she’d noticed his interest in other women but his obvious friendliness towards Imogen was agonising for Marian. Marian was terrified that Harry would fall in love with Imogen; had she known it, her fears were quite groundless. Harry enjoyed casual relationships with women, but saw no reason to limit himself to just one and Imogen was not among them; for Harry, almost all women were interesting enough to smile at, and Imogen in particular would have been attractive enough to sleep with, had he not been currently fully occupied with three or four other ladies. Marian had nothing but her material possessions and it was to these that she now turned. On Saturday morning she duly set off to the antiques centre at the top of the town, where hundreds of beautiful things were laid out on three floors. Marian had little interest in the lovely things she saw, but she was acutely aware that Imogen would love them. All she wanted was something that Imogen couldn’t have, something the other woman would envy with all her soul. Almost anything here would do, so Marian selected a Louis Quinze style mirror. It would set off Marian’s rather cramped little hall and perhaps make it seem more spacious. The mirror itself was exquisite, but Marian was conscious of a niggling disappointment. Her hall looked dingy and dark by comparison. Worst of all though was her own reflection. Every morning she checked her appearance before leaving home. She had had almost fifty years to get used to her plain looks but the mirror was positively cruel. The face that looked back at Marian out of the shadows bore deep frown lines on the forehead. Its eyes looked blankly back at her, without a trace of light or joy in them, while the corners of its mouth seemed permanently turned down in discontentment. Marian tried experimenting with different expressions, but her smiles all looked sneering and when she threw back her head and laughed in a parody of Imogen, she merely looked frightening and demented. It was disappointing that something so expensive should fail to give her the satisfaction she had sought from it and it was some weeks before Marian could bring herself to give up on the mirror. Her reflection seemed to grow uglier each time she looked at it, until it occurred to her that it was simply one of those mirrors that makes everyone look unattractive: she would give it to Imogen. Marian almost laughed at the thought. She would look as if she were simply being kind and generous to poor Imogen, who had no nice home and no money to buy the beautiful things she loved. And Imogen would have to look in the mirror every day and see herself old and ugly before setting off to the bus stop to wait for someone to splash her on their way past. Marian wrapped up the mirror carefully and put it in the boot of her car. It would have made more sense to take it to Imogen’s home nearby but Marian wanted Imogen to struggle with it to the bus stop. At first she was not disappointed. Waves of approval came from colleagues nearby as Imogen unwrapped her parcel, irritating Marian with her thanks and convincing her more than ever that Imogen’s whole manner was an act. Imogen set up the mirror on her desk and admired her own reflection. “It’s amazing!” she exclaimed, “Look! I’m beautiful!” One of Marion’s friends glanced at her, raised her eyebrows cynically and replied “It’s magic”. Imogen laughed, agreeing “It must be!” turning away the spiteful barb without even realising it was there. Imogen might be laughing but it was true – her reflection was beautiful. She seemed wrapped in an invisible cloak of sparkling joy, as radiant as if she had been in love. Except, Marian suddenly realised, the mirror was not magic at all. All the time it had been telling the plain truth. She looked at her own reflection. Her ugliness was more than skin deep: it came from her corrupted heart and the acrid odour of envy seeped from the pores of her skin. Imogen’s generous heart lent her radiance, creating an illusion of beauty and making her powerfully desirable. Marian could see Harry James reflected, absorbed by Imogen, caught in her inexplicable spell. He didn’t notice Marian, though she was close enough to touch him. Marian knew that he never would. There stood a woman who had seen the truth and simply did not know what to do with it. She turned and walked away, back to her own neat desk, away from the laughter and the joy, away from the truths reflected in the mirror’s gleaming face.
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