by Stella Kaye

Created on: May 14, 2008

A GOOD MEMORY FOR FACES

The bright April sunlight percolated through the net curtains in the kitchen, highlighting a solitary cobweb above the old welsh dresser. Time for a bit of spring cleaning thought Beryl, as she began to rummage busily under the sink for dusters and polish; she would clean the entire house from top to bottom and surprise her husband, Harold, when he returned from work.

By mid afternoon the tiny terraced house was immaculate. "There! Bright and shiny as a new pin!" she declared to her rosy reflection in the hall mirror. Noticing there was still a huge unsightly smear in the middle, she began to rub at it rather too energetically and soon the whole thing began to slip sideways, dislodging itself from its place on the wall.

Beryl gasped as she attempted to secure it, but the heavy, oval-shaped frame was too cumbersome and came crashing face down onto the hard, wood-block flooring with a resounding thud. Somehow she summoned up the strength to turn the mirror over to survey the damage, although she was sure it had broken even before kneeling down to look. It was a typical case of Murphy's law.

A huge crack, jagged as bolt of lightning ran right across the centre of the mirror. Beryl began to cry, her hot tears falling onto her now distorted reflection. She'd never really liked the mirror but had grown accustomed to its unchanging presence as it had hung sedately in the hallway for the past thirty years - the reflection which gazed back at her had certainly changed over the years though. The mirror had been a wedding gift from Harold's parents and had welcomed Beryl into her new home as he'd carried her proudly over the threshold as a radiant young bride. It had greeted her when she'd brought each of her three babies home and now it was witnessing her kneeling on the cold floor peering at the shattered image of a woman well into middle age. The framework too, was splintered and broken and it was as if Beryl was mourning the death of an old friend.

Harold will be annoyed; he loved that mirror, she thought, as she tried to regain her composure, but he's a reasonable enough man; surely he'll understand it was a genuine accident. I know he won't be angry with me. Maybe I'll treat the whole thing light-heartedly, after all he's got a good sense of humour.

Beryl was never short of an appropriate witty remark to bring light relief to an otherwise tricky situation but at that moment the only thing she could think of concerning mirrors was the old saying

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