Mirrors and
Echoes

PROLOGUE

The only things that all three Henderson girls had ever been in complete agreement on was that nature could heal all wounds and that the world was at its best during summer. 

Leslie’s love for trees was the reason why back in the 1970s she chose to marry the one suitor who was able to offer her a flat in Knightsbridge right across from Hyde Park. Even though he never kept his promise to build their daughter a treehouse and didn’t look once when Leslie pointed out a butterfly or a bird, he also did not expect her to change for him, which she accepted as a rare gift. And because she was never forced to adapt, she woke up one morning when she was twenty-five and decided to stay young forever. 

Their only daughter, whom Leslie named Tabitha, soon found a great love for all sorts of animals, and repeatedly collected limping hedgehogs, stray cats, their litters, and blackbirds that had flown into windows. She loved taking care of them, preparing comfy beds, and feeding them at all hours. She loved to have something to focus all her attention on, to occupy her mind with anything else than worrying about the state of her parents’ marriage and her incredible loneliness. That’s why both, Leslie and Tabitha, were convinced that Tabitha would one day make a wonderful mother. 

Sam was born long after Tabitha had moved out of the Knightsbridge flat. Leslie was sadly not able to be at the birth because she had accidentally scheduled her liposuction on the due date and was under anaesthesia when Sam was born. However, she was the luckiest grandmother in the universe when she woke up to the news of a healthy baby and had lost the weight of five pounds of fat. Sam’s love for plants and the outdoors developed quickly and by the time she was sixteen, she had already tried grass and mushrooms in empty parks. 

CHAPTER 1

All three of them were relieved when they woke up to the early May sun forcing its way through the cracks in the heavy red curtains. It was the perfect weather for a wedding. Leslie was looking forward to wearing her newest addition of her hat collection. Tabitha who had been too nervous to sleep and who had watched the sun rise on her new life chapter considered it as a good omen – as a way of nature agreeing with this big step – and her daughter was relieved to know that her mother would be happy. 

            Sam had been the last one to wake up. The first thing she had done was to put on her glasses and to reach for her phone. Ignoring the emails sent from her university with the subject line saying, “Final Warning”, she opened the messenger app. Nothing from Toby. Whatever. Sooner or later, he would come around and apologise – after all, he was the one who forgot about their anniversary – and she had known him for long enough to know that he was not an idiot and would realise when he messed up. Yet, she also knew him long enough to know that this could take a few days. Silence was nothing new in their relationship, but Sam wished that at least today, especially today, he would swallow his pride and just suck it up for her mother’s wedding.

            Someone knocked on the door to her hotel room. 

            “One moment!” 

            “Sammy please, just let me in!” 

It was her mother who promptly knocked again. How on earth could she already sound stressed? It was only 8 am. Nothing could’ve gone so terribly wrong already. 

            Sam got up immediately and put on the pink bathrobe with her green embroidered initials, which had been an old gift from her grandmother. With fast steps, she reached the door and looked through the peephole before opening it. She was greeted by the ghostly appearance of her mother, dressed in all white, with deep blue circles under her eyes and her white-blond hair rolled up in curlers on her head, which would soon be ready to reveal the hair that had cost 200 pounds at the hairdressers. 

            “Jesus, Mum. Did you not sleep at all last night?” 

            “Gosh Sammy, I thought we moved past that.” 

            “Past what?” 

            “Your teenage it’s-cool-to-insult-your-loving-mum-phase.” 

            “I’m sorry, but have you looked in the mirror yet?” Her mother walked past her and headed straight toward the bathroom. Sam closed the door and followed her. Was she having second doubts about the wedding? Was Frank late again? To his own wedding? Was that the part when her mum would burst into tears and confess that she had rushed into this too quickly? She had run out of tissues last night. Toilet paper would have to make do. 

            “Nothing a little bit of concealer won’t be able to fix,” said Tabitha as she leaned closer to the mirror to examine her own face. “That reminds me, your slot for makeup is at quarter to ten. So you still have a bit of time. You’ll be the last bridesmaid, so please make sure that you are on time honey.” 

            “I know. It’s all in the calendar.” 

            “I just came to make sure.”  

            “Mum, you can trust me.” Tabitha turned and pulled her daughter into a hug. Faint sounds were coming from the bathroom upstairs: a door being pulled shut, the shower getting turned on, and water starting to patter onto slippery tiles. Something wet and warm fell on Sam’s shoulder. She looked up, no leak was visible. Then she heard her mother sniffle into the pink bathrobe. 

            “Oh, Mum! What’s wrong?” Her mother pulled away from the hug, but kept her hands on Sam’s shoulders, looking at her from one arm's length away, as she had done so many times before. Time for the serious announcement. 

            “I’m just so happy. I’ve got a good feeling. This time it’ll be forever.” Sam pulled her mother into another hug. There was nothing else she could do. 

            “At what point are you going to offer me a tissue?” 

            “I only have toilet paper left.” 

            “God no, it’s fine. I won’t disturb you any longer. I’ve got to go back to the bridal suite anyway. Lots of champagne waiting for me. Be on time!” Without waiting for a response Tabitha turned around, left the bathroom, and closed the door to the suite. 

Sam walked back to the bed and picked up her phone. No new messages. Frustrated, she dropped it on the bedside table and went to the window. The big ancient looking curtains were difficult to move aside. Their fresh smell did not want to fit in with their optic. The entire room felt like a museum and only lacked those old-timey velvet ropes. Every single possible space was filled with some sort of decoration that probably had not changed since her grandmother got married in the same hotel decades ago. A few years back, shortly after Sam’s fourteenth birthday, her grandmother had invited Sam and her mother to this hotel for afternoon tea. Mum had suddenly been swarmed with work and made an extremely sad face when she declined, but Sam accepted it and got dropped off outside of the entrance with the four Greek pillars at exactly four pm. There were only three things she remembered from that windy February day: the fact that her grandmother showed up without any belated birthday present, that Leslie had not known about Sam’s lactose intolerance and even thought that some medical conditions were myths, and that little golden spoon that had sparkled in the light of the golden chandelier and which she had stolen in silent scorn. 

            With a sigh, Sam opened the window to get some fresh air into the room and leaned her head against the clean glass. The birds were already singing in full swing. A robin was close by on one of the branches of a willow, that proudly showed his fresh green leaves. There was not a single cloud in the sky. Sam’s phone buzzed. She closed the window and walked back to the bed. 

Leslie was in the room right above Sam’s and listened to the same little robin. As always, she was in room 511, the only one which had the perfect view over the park and which in her opinion had the only acceptable marble pattern. As always, she had been up since the early morning hours, and as always, her shy assistant, Lisa, had already made her bed and opened the windows while Leslie had been in the shower. Hygiene was the most important thing in the world. Especially now, as she was reaching an older age, her paranoia of smelling like the old ladies she knew from her childhood grew each day. The last time she had visited her daughter’s house, which must have been about ten, no eleven, maybe twelve years ago, she had snuck into her granddaughter’s bathroom to see what kind of bath products the youth were using these days. Unfortunately, it had been glittery purple shower gel from boots, which Leslie would never ever let close to her skin. 

She took a deep breath. The meditation app on her brand-new iPhone counted to five. “Now hold it for four…three…. two…one… and slowly breathe out for five…four….three….two…one…”

 The male electronic voice repeated itself another ten times before the daily goal of ‘mindfulness’ was reached and Leslie could tick it off her to-do list. An extra bit of inner peace. She would need it today. After sneaking a look at her daughter’s guest list two weeks ago, she was shocked to find what kind of people Tabitha wanted to have at her wedding. And then the wedding registry: a complete disaster. Tabitha had wished for an air fryer. It surely could not have been her, who longed to own such a dreadful piece of technology. Leslie had the suspicion that Tabitha’s bound-to-be husband had been the driving force behind most of the items on the curated list. Trying to be a good mother and a good wedding guest, Leslie had tried to look for an air fryer, but it had ashamed her soul. The beautiful yellow hat, she had gotten her instead, would surely make her just as happy. 

She once again congratulated herself for her impeccable taste and her big heart, before she got up and wrapped her white silk kimono tightly around her body. Since the days of children and child-like husbands were far behind her, breakfast was a meal best skipped. Even though her doctors recently had encouraged her to implement at least some fruit or sources of fibre into her morning routine, it had been too difficult to break her typical schedule. The last visit to the doctor had been an especially terrifying one. Was it an early sign of dementia that Leslie had troubles finding her phone every single day, but could remember everything about that dreadful day? Or was it just an old’s people thing? The idiotic assistant nurse had stung her twice with the needle until he found the right vein. After all the blood had been sucked from her and Leslie had felt very lightheaded, the doctor broke the news whilst checking his e-mail account. Something about abnormalities, fatigue and suspected whatever-the-word-was. This had been two weeks ago. She lifted the sleeve of the Kimono. From very close up, she could still see the small wounds where the needles had pierced through her pale skin. Good thing that she had chosen to wear a long-sleeved dress today. 

After she had gotten dressed, done her make-up and had a moment of doubt about her choice of accessories, which was resolved by reminding herself of the crowd, that she would be facing today, and how little fashion sense any of them possessed, Leslie still had more than an hour until the ceremony began. Lisa would come up to help her with her hair in about thirty minutes, which left her enough time to go for a little stroll and to have an eye on the last-minute venue preparations. Just as she opened the door of her hotel room and turned a corner, she ran into someone. Maybe she did need glasses after all. After taking a step back, she looked straight at the very hairy chest of a man in a tight white suit. This was enough to pique her interest. Sadly, after letting her gaze wander to the face of the man, she saw that the chest was connected to a very bland and balding head. Nothing she would usually go for. 

            “You must be Leslie?” His voice burst with this common sense of false confidence and ego. 

            “And you must be a stalker?” He did not understand the joke. Leslie continued: “Is running into someone a new version of tinder now?” The poor guy’s head seems to had suffered an injury after their small collision. 

            “Hi, I am Frank.” He smiled as if that was something to be proud of. Good teeth. A brief pause. 

            “Frank?” 

            “Frank. As in your daughter’s fiancée-soon-to-be-married-Frank,” he continued whilst checking his silver watch, “Very soon actually. Only about two more hours.” 

            So, this was Frank. Somehow, he was exactly how she had imagined him. And she had not thought about him much. Maybe even less, how does one put it nicely, memorable? She waited for him to say something else – something distinguished and smart that would make her realise why her daughter had chosen this one to marry. 

            “I was just about to knock on your door. This hotel is so confusing,” Frank said. Jesus, alright. Someone needed help. 

            “I have loved this place since I was a little girl. I am sure Tabitha has told you all about our little weekend getaways here?” Once again, it was on her to carry a conversation with elegance and poise. 

            “Oh yes! She mentioned champagne before noon, massages for days and long hours on her own to reflect. Exactly what a thirteen-year-old wants to do for fun.” He winked. Was this a joke? A charming comment? Or worse: a reach for irony?

            “Glad to hear those fond memories”, Leslie replied. Followed by more silence. 

            “Well, I just wanted to introduce myself, since we sadly never had the possibility to meet before, but I will leave you to it. If you need anything, please do let me know.” 

            “Thank you, Frank.” He looked at her, as if he expected something else. Some people just needed orders to have some structure in life. 

            Leslie forced a smile as she spoke: “Actually, there is something that you could do for me.” Frank responded with an encouraging nod, before she continued: “Which room is Tabitha staying in?”  

“Meet me on the terrace on the seventh floor. Right next to room 709.” Thirteen words and one number. No hearts or kisses. Not even a little smiley face. Sam had at first been relieved when she saw the name of her boyfriend light up on her phone screen, but this was not what she had expected. Yeah, he did need to apologise, but honestly a simple text would have been enough for her. No need for rose petals or big romantic gestures. 

            As this had been the first sign of life from him in a day, she was logically allowed to take her time with reacting to this invitation. Sam decided to take a refreshing shower in which she used up most of the expensive hotel soap, before putting on a sweatshirt and leggings. She did not have much time left to talk to Toby, considering she still had to get her hair and makeup done. Hopefully, it would not take long anyways. A few sentences with rich vocabulary on his side to show how truly sorry he was, would be followed by promises to never repeat the mistake ever again, and a quick forgiveness on her side. She knew the drill. 

            The lift took ages until it finally brought her up to the seventh floor. The marble tiles and the mirrors with golden details, probably weighed too much for the old lift engines and made it impossible to move faster than one mile per hour. As the door opened, Sam hesitated for a moment. Her hands weren’t sweaty. She wasn’t nervous at all. 

Close to the start of their relationship, they had had an argument, about something she now could not remember anymore – so cliché. But during those days, she had felt so ill, that she had not been able to get up from her mother’s sofa for two days – so extremely cliché and anti-feminist, that her grandmother would have been ashamed of her. No boy should ever create so much trouble that it could not be fixed by a good walk and some tiramisu. The voice of Leslie floated around in Sam’s mind. Would her grandmother be proud to know that Sam now felt like Toby had no power over her? Had they done the same mistakes too many times? Did she still love him? Yes. Maybe that had went a bit too far. But how much love was really there, when the upcoming conversation sparked no emotion in her whatsoever? Wasn’t this maybe even better, compared to that extreme feeling of anxiety? Whatever. 

            She stood up straight before she opened the door to the terrace. Some brown leaves were dancing in the air, driven by a waft of wind. She should have blow-dried her hair before stepping outside. Apart from a few pigeons sitting on the railing, it was empty. Toby wasn’t there. This was new. 

            Immediately, she reread his message and even double-checked that she was on the right floor. In the hallway she made sure that there wasn’t another terrace, that she had miraculously missed on her way, but there obviously wasn’t. He had not waited for her. 

Quickly she typed out a message: “I am here. Where r you? x” On second thought she removed the kiss and sent it. If he wanted to, he would. Specifically, if he really wanted her, he would have waited. She walked back to the railing without disturbing the peaceful pigeons, took a deep breath and counted to five on the exhale. With a look at the light blue sky, she sent out a wish to the universe. Oh, to feel some true passion. To, please, feel something – anything at all. 

There are some families that have bonds, that run so deep, and connections formed over many years, which could withstand any emotional earthquakes. Whether that would be a mother who sensed that something was off with her child, before the child even knew, the aunt, who magically gets you the perfect Christmas gift, or the occasional grandmother, who claims to know what her oldest friend, her grey parrot, is thinking. These unconditional forms of love must exist somewhere. 

Leslie had only observed this once: her cousins were twins and must have possessed some witchcraft powers that allowed them to read each other’s minds. This love had been her highest goal in life. Sure, she tried to make the twins into a trio and to join their intimate friendship. Sure, her first husband and her had never been compatible enough to make it through a week without having an argument. But Leslie had been so sure that the second she was to look into her daughter’s eyes for the first time, she would know. It would be all encompassing and grand and golden and the purest emotion of them all. 

This was what Leslie was thinking off when at exactly quarter to ten all three Henderson women were in the same room for the first time in years. Coincidentally, in some shape or form, each one was thinking about something similar. Sam longed for someone to sense her cracks in her romantic relationship and to comfort her, but she could not bring up herself. Not on her mother’s wedding day. Tabitha was anxious to hear some sort of approval from her own mother. Some indication that what she was about to do, was the right thing, but that was not something easily asked. Not on her own wedding day. And Leslie tried to guess what Tabitha and Sam were thinking but asking them never once crossed her mind. Not on her daughter’s wedding day, or in fact on any other day. 

Instead of the hug, they all desperately needed, they were stuck in their own corners. Sam sat in front of the mirror and hoped the make-up artist would ignore her twitching eye. Tabitha was struggling behind a velvet red room divider to put the wedding dress on with her slightly sweaty hands – that’s what she got for drinking champagne before 10 am – and Leslie sat on a sofa by the window and repeatedly tapped her manicured fingernails against the armrest. After the initial hellos, it had gotten quiet. 

Leslie was the one to break the silence: “This hotel really has not changed, since I was a little girl. Have I ever told you guys the story about Martha?” 

“Who?” asked Sam. 

“She was an old friend of mine and also got married here about a week after my first one. I will never forgive her for stealing my entire wedding plan, including the caterer, but it did not bring her any luck anyways.” 

“Isn’t she the one who got left at the altar, the poor thing?” Tabitha’s voice was muffled by layers of white tulle. 

“No, he did not leave her at the altar. It was much better. He cheated on her during the festivities after and even worse -,” Leslie paused for the dramatic effect, “he cheated on her with her mother!” 

“Wow.” Tabitha’s voice showed no real surprise. Usually, Leslie’s story achieved much more of an effect. Maybe this had simply been the wrong audience. Maybe not the best story for a wedding day.

“But that is definitely not going to happen today,” Leslie added quickly. “I met Frank today. A nice man, but nothing that would make me start drooling.” 

“Grandma! Ew!” Sam turned towards the sofa.

“Oh, come on, Samantha. How old are you now? Twenty?” 

“Twenty-one” 

“And you have had sex before so what’s the issue?!” 

“Mum, please stop. Thank you for not wanting to seduce my fiancé,” Tabitha said as she stepped out from behind the room divider, “but can we please talk about something else?” 

Everyone’s head turned and they sat in silent awe. She looked fabulous for a woman, who wanted to age naturally. Leslie was relieved to see that her daughter had not opted for one of those modern nude dresses and had toned it down on the glitter. 

Before anyone could say anything, a phone started to ring. Sam stood up and handed Tabitha her iPhone. She accepted the call and stepped out of the room. 

            “So? Samantha, what is the gossip these days? Any news?” asked Leslie whilst patting on the empty space next to the sofa. Sam obeyed and sat down. 

            “Not much”, Sam replied. 

            “Oh, come on! You are young and pretty, there must be some drama!” 

            “I mean…” 

            “I am always here to listen, Samantha.”

            “Really?” Sam sounded surprised. Nothing to take to heart.

            “Of course! I am your grandmother. I want to know everything”, Leslie said as she remembered the same afternoon tea in February, that Sam had thought about earlier. What a lovely few hours that had been. A true bonding moment when she let Sam take home that small spoon. 

            “I dropped out of uni and my boyfriend hates me.” 

            Oh Christ. Leslie turned towards Sam. What does one say to that?  

© Anna Diedrichsen 2024