My Imaginary Friend
For the third day in a row, there was a crowd of pupils hovering round Alice. Somehow, shed gained a reputation throughout the whole school as a fortune teller and a bit of a psychologist. Everyone wanted a share of her wisdom. They would corner her by the toilets, sit with her in the canteen, and even bring her sweets, homework books, and other offerings that, oddly, she always seemed to refuse.
Alice, I really like Ben from Year 5B. Do you think well end up getting married? her classmate Rosie asked, her eyes dreamy.
I wouldnt rate your chances, Alice replied, sipping her cup of tea and nibbling a scone. Ben acts sweet enough, but I know for a fact he picks his nose and eats it. So youll never go hungry, thats one way to look at it, but otherwise youll spend your whole life watching him dig for treasure.
Thats revolting! Rosie grimaced. What about Tom? Hes so clever and is learning the guitar. Rosies dreamy look returned.
Tom torments the neighbours cats. Ties tins to their tails and chases them around the street. You dont want a cruel husband, and hell probably start drinking as well, Alice said matter-of-factly.
Whyd you say that?
Come on, have you ever met a sober guitarist? Besides, you should pay more attention to your maths and stop biting your nails youll end up with worms, Alice grinned.
Sitting nearby, Paul from Year 4C slumped grumpily. Nobody wants to be my friend. Everyone calls me fat and never invites me anywhere, he grumbled, pushing Rosie so she slid right across the bench.
Theres sign-ups for wrestling on Wednesday in the PE teachers office. You wont exactly be skinny, but people will stop calling you names. And dont go shoving your future wife around, Alice shot back.
She stood up and carried her tray to the sink.
Alice, do you think I should learn to drive this year or wait till next? Mrs Graham, the geography teacher, asked as if by chance, hovering nearby.
Mrs Graham, you need a car before you can drive, and your dads old Fiesta doesnt count. See the difference?
I suppose sort of
Alice rolled her eyes, washing her hands.
Sell the poor thing, get yourself a good bike and shorts, and in two months time youll get a lift to work anyway. But honestly, you should think about getting a mortgage while rates are so low, and live on your own living with your parents at thirty-five isnt really the done thing. Trust me, I know what Im talking about.
With Mrs Graham staring at her in disbelief, Alice headed off for her design class.
While the girls tried to master the basics of sewing, Alice mended her dads trousers, took in her mums skirt and crocheted a pair of socks, which she gave to the technology teacher, telling her that pregnant women really ought to keep warm feet. The teacher instantly excused herself and dashed out to the chemist for a test. The next day, the whole class tucked into a lovely homemade chocolate cake in thanks from their teacher.
Alice was acting odd at home too. She scolded her mum for buying supermarket mince and made proper dumplings herself. That evening, instead of scrolling through YouTube, she sat reading The Three Musketeers and kept whispering as if talking to someone else. Her dad kept peering over his computer screen at her, but Alice only told him off for slouching and said hed be better off beating the rug out the back than messing about on dodgy websites.
Rumours spread through school, and the teachers became concerned, calling for a psychological assessment. Soon, the whole staff committee, including the headteacher, gathered during school hours.
Alice, darling, is somebody hurting you at school? began the psychologist stylish beard, round glasses and everything.
What hurts is that the school was given several million pounds, and all weve got in the gym is a battered old vaulting horse and two metres of rope, Alice replied.
Everyone looked at the headteacher who suddenly decided he had a meeting and slipped out through the open window.
Have you got any friends?
Friendships an abstract concept, Alice replied, yawning and twirling her plaits. This week, youre chasing your mates round the playground, and in a few years, that same mate is washing up in your kitchen while youre sorting tax rebates.
Wait, what tax rebates? Washing up? Whos been telling you all this?
My friend.
Theres the problem! Can you invite her in?
Shes already here, said Alice, perfectly calmly, making everyone look at each other nervously.
We dont see her. Whats her name?
Edith May.
And er how old is she?
Seventy.
What does she tell you?
She says you have to brush your teeth from the gum up, that the dog in our street isnt dangerous, just scared and hungry, and that you shouldnt forget your relatives. Also that the schools property tax was miscalculated for the last five years you need to go down to the Land Registry and ask them to recalculate using market value, not the rateable value.
The psychologist scribbled all this down, underlining the last point twice.
Parents were finally called over the school intercom; both were still at work.
Hang on! yelled her dad down the phone, sounding rattled. Thats what my mum was called! She passed away ten years ago!
Everyone gasped.
Exactly, its been ten years and no ones even popped round. The place is all overgrown and the gravestone railings are falling down, Alice muttered, a bit hurt.
Well, Ive been meaning to just havent had time her dad mumbled awkwardly.
That was the end of the meeting.
The next day, the whole family trekked out to the cemetery. Alice had never met her grandma, only heard bits and pieces from her dad. It took them a while to find the grave the whole place had overgrown so much in what used to be a pine wood.
Alice laid a bunch of yellow tulips in a cut-down plastic bottle. Her dad fixed the railings; her mum weeded the grass.
Dad, Grandma says youre a good person, just lost in your work and the internet, that you never have time for anyone not even me.
Her dad blushed and nodded, shuffling his feet.
Tell her well do better, he said, ruffling Alices hair, then touching the faded photo on the gravestone.
Shes peaceful now and wont be visiting me anymore, Alice whispered, though Ill miss her she was so kind, funny and clever.
Spot on. She could see right through people. Does she say anything else?
Yep. She says your cucumber diet is daft if you want to lose weight, go to the gym. And opening a savings account in euros was a bit silly always work out the maths. Oh, and that cheap batch of concrete you ordered for the garden shed foundationsHer dad laughed, a little choked upthen, as they stood together beneath the lacy green of the pines, a sudden breeze stirred, swirling petals and dappled sunlight all around them.
On the way home, Alice held her parents hands tighter than usual. The world, she realized, was teeming with invisible threadssome spun out of wisdom, some out of love, some out of the mysteries that only children, poets, and perhaps grandmothers could decipher.
Back at school, the whispers changed. Some said Alices eyes had the sparkle of hidden stars. Others swore that sometimes, if you listened very hard while she giggled with her friends, you could hear a second soft chuckle, old and musical, drifting by like lavender on the breeze.
But Alice knew what Edith May had really left her: not fortune-telling, not secrets, but the courage to look after people, to speak the honest truth, and to listenreally listenwhen the world tried to tell its story.
And after that, nobody called her strange or odd again. They just called her, quietly and with a little smile, someone you were lucky to know.
