Carrying Home

20250724

Prompt from the "Kev's Odyssey" series.

It was definitely a mirror, not a picture; if you took it off the wall and tilted it, the reflection moved just as it should.
But what it reflected had nothing to do with its surroundings.
“Hm.” Dave scratched his chin.
When you ran an antique shop, you got used to oddities. But this one had a puzzle feel to it.
Where was this room?
He spent a while turning the mirror back and forth, inspecting everything.
The space had an old-fashioned feel. Powder blue colour scheme, demurely floral wallpaper, velvet upholstered furniture, and while he suspected those lights on the wall were electric they were shaped like traditional gas lamps.
Curious!
Sadly the young man who gave it to him had no idea; it’d been found in the attic after their granddad passed. And since, while it had a lovely frame, it was useless as a mirror, they were happy to hand it over for a tenner.
Dave got his cameras out and tried taking photos. The film photos showed a messy blur; the actual reflection and the supernatural one coexisting, maybe? But the digital camera captured the seen reflection fairly clearly. Dave stuffed both types of photo into an envelope and addressed it to his friend Marge - she was good at puzzling what kind of magic something had.
Then he took several more digital photos, until he’d captured as much of the mysterious room as could be seen in the mirror.
As soon as he posted them on local history groups explaining the situation, he was deluged in suggestions. Most of which were easily disproven.
No, it wasn’t this hotel. Nor this stately home. Nor this coachhouse.
It was three days later that he got a phone call, sounding like a young woman whose posh accent held a hint of burr. “Hello, is this Davis Antiques?”
“Er, no, this is Dave’s Antiques.”
“Oh. Um.” There was an uncertain pause. “Do you have a large mirror with a gilded pewter frame which is showing a powder-blue sitting room?”
“Ah! Indeed I do. I take it you saw something online?”
“No, a friend sent the photos to me all excited. You see, that’s my family house. Brawleywraith Hall. The mirror was made by my great-grandfather, and stolen right after he died.”
“Goodness! Whereabout are you?”
“Well, I’m in London, but Brawleywraith is up on the north coast.”
“The north coast? It’s travelled a long way!”
“Yes, no wonder people didn’t know us. Or the house. Would it be alright if I come collect it? I’ll bring photos of the sitting room - I think we’ve even got some from back when the mirror was still up.”
“Yes please. Once I’m sure it’s going home I’ll be happy to give it to you. No charge, what with it being stolen goods and all.”
“Oh, that’s very kind of you, but there’s no need, really.”
“Nonsense! Just tell me when you’d like to pick it up.”
They arranged a time and day and bid one another farewell. Then Dave posted an excited update on the story to all the groups, which resulted in more interest in Brawleywraith Hall than it had ever experienced before.
Dave himself took a quick look through what little info was available online - which included a wedding photo that had the mirror in the background! The sepia toning meant he couldn’t be certain it was the same room, but everything else matched.
Then he got another phone call, this time from a voice he vaguely recognised. After a moment he placed it; the young man who’d sold him the mirror.
“Um, hi. I, er, saw the stir online, and how the mirror was stolen, and… uh… would it be alright if I dropped by when the mirror’s being collected? I want to apologise to the owner.”
“I can ask Ms Brawleywraith, but I really don’t think she’ll hold anything against you. You made it clear that-”
“I would appreciate if you asked her. I think…” The young man paused. “I think my granddad was the one who stole it.”
“Ah. Well, if you’d like me to pass that request on…”
“Please.”
Mariah readily agreed to this Harry Taylor being present, and emphasised that her family was not interested in pressing charges.
So, a few days later, Harry was loitering in Dave’s shop when a van pulled up and a young woman jumped out, the driver following behind.
“Hello! I’m Mariah. Mariah Brawleywraith. Oh, that’s definitely grantie’s mirror!”
“Yeah.” Harry said awkwardly. “I, um, after I found out about it having been stolen and all, I went digging through my granddad’s old papers, and…” He pulled a loose-paper binder out of his satchel. “He, um, before he changed his name he was Charles Brawleywraith, and-”
“No!” Mariah gawped. “He can’t have - Charlie died in a car crash, everyone says it was so tragic!”
She snatched the binder and pawed through. Her eyes widening at the birth certificate, the deed poll, the marriage certificate… and the childhood photos.
“Oh gosh.” She whispered. “Granny’s got a copy of this one on her bedroom mantle. And this one’s in the parlour, and…” She shook her head and stared searchingly at Harry. “So… we’re cousins? Removed and all, but…”
“I-I guess?” Harry shrugged helplessly. “Don’t worry, it’s not - reading through it seems he got disowned for running off with grandma, I’m not expecting money or anything, I just… I wanted you to know the whole story, and apologise for any…”
“Oh, you don’t need to apologise!” Mariah swept everything back into the folder so she could wrap Harry in a one-armed hug. “I’m glad to meet you, cuz! And I’m grateful to have the whole story - or, well, the start, at least. Granny’s got some answering to do!”
She beamed at the mirror and mused “I suppose Charlie took it as his inheritance - the only thing of grantie’s he could carry. And it carried home with it.”

Prompt was “reflection”.