Imaginary Friend
For the third day running, the area around Alice had become a magnet for pupils. Word had spread throughout the entire schoolAlice possessed the gift of foresight and insight, a real-life schoolyard psychologist. Everyone wanted a piece of her wisdom. Theyd ambush her near the toilets, sidle up next to her at lunch, or offer her sweets, homework notebooks, and other treasures, all of which, curiously, she always politely refused.
I quite like Charlie from Year 5B. Do you think well ever get married? asked her classmate Sophie with a dreamy gaze.
I wouldnt recommend it. Charlie might seem all right, but he picks his nose and eats it when he thinks no ones watching. Sure, you wont starve with him, but thats about it. You’ll spend a lifetime picking at lifes leftovers, replied Alice, munching on a scone and slurping her tea.
Disgusting! Well, what about Oliver? Hes top of the class and learning to play guitar, Sophies face lit up with hope.
Oliver torments cats. Ties tin cans to their tails and chases them round the gardens. Hell end up crueland I suspect hell start drinking before hes grown.
Why do you think that?
Have you ever met a sober guitarist? Honestly, its far too early for you to worry about this sort of thing. Boys will be about for years yet. Best to sort out your mathsand do stop biting your nails, or youll end up with worms.
I havent got any friends. Everyone calls me fat and never asks me to join in, muttered James from Year 4V, shoving a hopeful Year 5 girl along the bench until she slid away.
Wrestling club sign-ups start Wednesday. Just ask in the PE office. You wont slim down overnight, but no one will call you names anymore. And do try not to shove your future wife around.
Alice got up from the table, tray in hand, and headed to the washing-up area.
Alice, do you think I should start driving lessons this year or next? Mrs Carter, the geography teacher, asked, sounding casual but hesitant.
Mrs Carter, you can only start lessons if you have a car, and all youve got is your dad’s tired old Ford. See the difference?
I… I suppose so, the teacher replied, a little lost.
Alice rolled her eyes, dried her hands and added, Sell that clunker and use the money to buy a bike and some shortsyoull be getting a lift to work within two months anyway. Or better yet, start thinking about a mortgagethe rates are soft as butter right now, and living with your parents at thirty-five is hardly the done thing. Take it from someone who knows.
Under the bewildered stares of the staff, Alice marched off to her textiles class.
While the other girls fumbled with patterns and tried threading needles, Alice darned her brothers trousers, took in the waist on a skirt, and crocheted a pair of socks, which she gifted to the textiles teacher, saying its important for mums-to-be to keep their feet warm. The teacher excused herself and dashed off to the chemist for a pregnancy test. The very next day, the whole form was treated to a luscious chocolate cakea thank-you from a grateful teacher.
At home, Alices behaviour was no less peculiar. She scolded her mum for buying supermarket mince and made her own proper dumplings. That evening, instead of binging YouTube, Alice lost herself in “The Three Musketeers”, whispering now and then to someone invisible. Her father watched her from behind his laptop. Alice, in turn, told him off for slouching. He ought to get outside and shake out the doormat for once, rather than poking about on dodgy websites.
Rumours zipped down the corridors. Teachers grew anxious; intervention was urged. And so, a session was convenedright in the middle of the day. The full teaching staff assembled, headmaster and all.
Alice, love, are you being bullied? asked the counsellor, who wore a trendy beard and large glasses.
Im more bothered by the fact that the council allocated half a million pounds for the school renovations, but all we got for the gym was an ancient pommel horse and a bit of rope, Alice replied.
Everyone swivelled to stare at the headmaster, who suddenly decided he had a meeting and exited through an open window.
So, you dont have friends?
Friendships an abstract notion, Alice drawled in a bored voice, twisting her plaits. Today youre playing tag at lunchtime, tomorrow your best mate’s up to her elbows washing your dishes while you work out your tax rebates.
Wait, what tax rebates? What washing up? Whos been telling you all this?
My friend.
Well, thats the root of it! Can you invite her in?
Shes here now, Alice replied without a flicker, sending a chill round the room.
But we cant see her. Whats her name?
Margaret Emily.
And how old is she?!
Seventy.
What else does she say to you?
She says you should brush your teeth from the gums, that old Max the dog by my house isnt viciousjust frightened and hungry, and that family shouldnt be forgotten. She also reckons youve been overpaying your property tax for five years. You ought to visit the Council and have it recalculated at market valueits been done at the official rate all this time.
The counsellor frantically jotted notes, double-underlining the last one.
A call went out over the tannoy for Alices parents, who were both at work.
Hold on a minute! came her fathers excited voice down the line. That was my mums name! Margaret Emilyshe passed away ten years ago.
Gasps and whispered prayers filled the room.
Exactly. Ten years gone, and no one even visits anymore. Its so overgrown, the graves railings are all askew, Alice grumbled.
WellerI always meant to, just theres never enough time mumbled her father into the speaker.
The session ended.
Next day the family packed up and went to the cemetery. Alice had never known her grandmotheronly snippets filtered down from her fathers rare stories. It took some time to find the grave; the marble field had swallowed up the old pine wood they recalled. Alice brought a bunch of yellow tulips and put them in a cut-up plastic bottle. Her dad straightened the railings, her mum weeded the plot.
Dad, Granny says youre a good person, but youre buried in your work and online all day. Thats why you havent time for anythingespecially me.
Her dad blushed furiously and gave a little nod.
Say youll try harder, she said. He ran his hand over her hair, then brushed the faded photo on the headstone.
Shes at peace now and wont visit me anymore, though Ill miss her ever so much. She was kind and funny and clever.
Thats right. Granny saw straight through people. Anything else she said?
Yes. She says your cucumber diet is total rubbish. If you want to lose weight, get to a gym. And opening that foreign currency account was a daft moveyou really ought to check everything properly. And about that cheap concrete you signed up for on the summer houseHer dad gave a shaky laugh, half embarrassed, half relieved. The three of them stood in the crisp sunlight, silent for a while. Birds flitted from twig to twig above the mossy stones. Alice closed her eyes and listened, just in case there might be moreone last whisperbut the world was quiet apart from the breeze.
Back home, life pressed forward, as it does. Alice stopped offering advice to the pupils who pleaded for it, instead inviting them out to the swings, skipping ropes in hand. Mrs Carter bought a bike, and sometimes, on Thursdays, Alices mum received mysterious bouquets at workalways yellow tulips, signed from a grateful friend. The textiles teacher finished knitting a tiny hat and made joyful plans.
Alices dad deleted the dodgy bookmarks from his laptop and joined Alice on evening walks, discovering the slow magic of not being in a hurry. On her windowsill at night, Alice kept a little dish of sweets, just in casea quiet thank-you to someone watching over her. Sometimes, when moonlight slid over her covers, she felt sure she heard the chuckle of a kind old friend.
And at school, just once a year, a patch of yellow tulips bloomed right outside the gymbright and stubborn, pushing up through the toughest ground. Students whispered about a ghostly guardian or an invisible adviser; some claimed to feel a gentle hand guiding theirs during tricky spots.
Alice never said a word about Margaret Emily again. She didnt need to. Some friendships, after all, dont ever really fadethey just change shape, like shadows lengthening at dusk, wrapping softly around those who remember to listen.
