Imaginary Friend
For the past three days, a swarm of pupils had been hanging around Ellie. Word had spread across the whole school that she was something of a fortune-teller and a real psychologist. Everybody wanted a piece of her wisdom. They cornered her by the loo, joined her at the lunch table, and brought her sweets, jotters full of homework, and plenty of other offerings, all of which she somehow refused.
I really like Jamie in 5B. Do you think well ever get married? asked Katie, my classmate, with a dreamy glint in her eye.
I wouldnt count on it, Ellie replied, munching a Chelsea bun and slurping her tea. Jamie only puts on a good front in reality, he picks his nose and eats it. So youll always have food on the table, but thats about it. Hell just keep picking his way through life.
Ugh, thats disgusting! Well, what about Billy? Hes a top student and learning to play guitar, Katie grinned shyly.
Billys cruel to cats. He ties empty cans to their tails and chases them round the estate. Hell grow up to be mean, and probably take to the bottle as well.
What makes you say that?
Have you ever met a sober guitarist? Anyway, dont let this stuff bother you yet. Theres time for boys theyre not going anywhere. Youd do better giving maths another go, and stop biting your nails unless you want tapeworms.
I dont have any friends. Everyone says Im fat and never invites me anywhere, moaned Paul from 4C, as he shoved dreamy Katie down the bench till she slid off the end.
Registration for wrestling starts Wednesday, Ellie offered, You can put your name down with Mr. Wilkins. You may not get any thinner, but people will stop calling you names. And dont go throwing your future wife about like that.
Ellie got up and took her tray to the kitchen trolleys.
Ellie, do you think I should start driving lessons this year or next? our geography teacher, Mrs. Shaw, asked as she lingered by the sink.
To learn to drive, you need a car, Mrs. Shaw. But all youve got is your dads battered Ford Fiesta. See the difference?
II suppose I do
Ellie rolled her eyes, washed her hands, and went on, Sell the poor thing, and with the money get yourself a bike and a pair of new shorts. In two months someonell be giving you a lift to work, anyway. Or better yet, look into a mortgage the interest rates are lovely right now, and honestly, living with your parents at thirty-five isnt quite the thing. I know what Im talking about.
A little stunned, everyone watched as Ellie trotted back to class for Home Economics.
In the forty minutes while her classmates fussed about with tape measures and tried threading needles, Ellie patched up a pair of trousers shed brought from home, took in a skirt, and crocheted a pair of socks, which she gave to the Home Ec teacher, reminding her that expectant mothers really had to keep their feet warm. The teacher left the lesson early and dashed to Boots for a pregnancy test. The following day, the whole class enjoyed a gorgeous chocolate cake as thanks from the teacher to Ellie.
Things were odd at home too. Ellie scolded her mum for buying mincemeat, then rolled her own dumplings from scratch. Instead of watching YouTube in the evening, she picked up The Three Musketeers and kept whispering to someone unseen. Dad watched her over his laptop, and Ellie had a go at him for slouching. She pointed out he should spend less time on dodgy websites and get out to give the carpet a proper beating.
Rumours ran wild in school. The teachers got anxious and called for the school psychologist. A special session was arranged. The entire staff, including the headteacher, gathered right in the middle of the school day.
Ellie, my dear, is someone at school upsetting you? began the psychologist, a chap with a trendy beard and thick-rimmed glasses.
Im upset that the school got a budget of several million, and all we got for the gym was an old pommel horse and a two-metre rope, Ellie said.
Everyone looked sharply at the headteacher, who promptly excused himself through the open window for an urgent meeting.
Dont you have any friends? the psychologist tried again.
Friendship is an abstract concept, Ellie intoned, fiddling with her plaits. Today youre playing tag at break, tomorrow your friend is washing your dishes while you fill out a tax rebate.
Hang on, tax rebate? Dishes? Whos been telling you all this?
My friend.
There we have it! Can you invite her in?
Shes here already, said Ellie as calmly as if she were reading the lunch menu, sending a ripple of surprise around the staff.
But we cant see her. Whats her name?
Maureen Jenkins.
And how old is she?
Seventy.
What else does she tell you?
She says you should brush your teeth from the gums down, the dog in my street isnt nasty, just scared and hungry, and you never forget your family. Also, she says youve been miscalculating your council tax for the past five years. You need to visit the council offices and ask for it to be recalculated at the latest market rate, because yours has been based on the old rateable value.
The psychologist took studious notes, double-underlining the last point.
A call home was placed over the tannoy; both parents were at work.
Wait! Dad shouted down the phone. Thats my mothers name! She passed away ten years ago.
Gasps and hurried prayers filled the staff room.
Its been ten years and youve not even visited, Ellie grumbled. The grass is overgrown and the railings are falling down.
I meant to, I just havent got round to it Dad stammered.
Session over.
The next day, the whole family went to the cemetery. Ellie had never met her nan, only heard a handful of stories from her dad. It took a while to find the grave the marble rows had spread over what was once a pine wood. Ellie brought a bunch of yellow tulips and put them in a plastic water bottle slit for a vase. Dad fixed the railings, Mum weeded the grass.
Dad, Nan says youre a good man, but youve lost yourself in work and the internet, and now youve got no time for anything not even me.
Dad flushed with shame and nodded.
Come on, lets make a change, he said, stroking Ellies head and the faded photo on the gravestone.
Shes at peace now, so she wont visit me anymore, Ellie said, a little sadly. But Ill miss her shes kind, funny, and clever.
She certainly was. She could see right through anyone. Does she say anything else?
Yes. She says your cucumber diet is rubbish. If you want to lose weight, go to the gym. And setting up that foreign currency account was daft; you shouldve done your sums better. And about that cheap cement you ordered for the garden shed foundationDad let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. She never did pull her punches, did she?
Nope, Ellie smiled, squeezing his gloved hand. The sky overhead bloomed with golden sunlight. Even Mum, shy with tears and muddy-kneed, seemed lighter as she stood among the singing blackbirds.
As the last weeds were plucked and the tulips settled in their makeshift vase, Ellie closed her eyes one last time and listened for Maureens warm chuckle, but only silence repliedsoft, comforting, and full of everything unsaid.
They left the cemetery lighter than when theyd entered, arms looped around each other, Ellies small hand swinging between her parents. At the gate, she looked back and whispered, Thank you.
Back at school, pupils still pestered Ellie for her wisdom, but she only winked now when they asked for fortunes, and replied, Youll find out soon enough. She spent her breaks talking and laughing with classmates, inventing new games, letting the old mysteries settle like autumn leaves.
At home, Dad shut his laptop early every night. They cooked together, turning flour storms into laughter. Sometimes, late in the evening, Ellie would feel a gentle warmtha memory, a kindnessjust over her shoulder. She would smile at nothing, knowing now that love, once shared, never quite disappears. It lingers, shining quietly, even when the conversation is over.
