The Imaginary Friend
For the past three days, crowds of students had been clustering around Alice. Word had spread all through the whole school: she was a proper fortune-teller and a genuine psychologist. Everyone wanted a bit of her wisdom. People would catch her near the loos, sidle up to her in the cafeteria, offer her chocolate, their homework books, and other little giftswhich, for some reason, she always turned down.
I like Oliver from 5B, Katty, a classmate, sighed dreamily. Do you think well ever get married?
I wouldnt recommend it, Alice replied, munching a digestive biscuit and slurping her tea. Oliver only looks good on the outside, but he picks his nose and eats it. You wont go hungry, I suppose, but it isnt much of a life, is it? Hell just go on like that forever.
“Ugh, thats disgusting! Well, what about Tommy? He gets top marks and hes learning the guitar,” Katty smiled, clearly daydreaming.
Tommy? He tortures catsties an empty tin to their tails and chases them round the estate. Hell be cruel, and soon hell start drinking too.
How do you know all this?
I mean, have you ever seen a sober guitarist? And anyway, youre too young to be worrying about boys. Focus on your maths, and stop biting your nails unless you want to get worms.
I dont have any friends. Everyone calls me fat and never invites me anywhere, grumbled Paul from 4C, shoving the dreamy Katty so hard she slid to the other end of the bench.
Theyre taking names for wrestling club on Wednesday. Sign up in the PE office. You wont exactly get thin, but at least theyll stop calling you names. And dont throw your future wife around like that.
Alice stood up and took her tray to the washing-up station.
Alice, do you think I should start taking driving lessons this year or next? asked Miss Harper, the geography teacher, casually as she rinsed her cup.
Miss Harper, you need a car to learn to drive. Youve only got your dads battered Fiesta. See the difference?
I think I get it maybe
Alice rolled her eyes, washed her hands, and carried on. Sell that wreck, buy a bicycle and some shorts. In two months, someone will be giving you a lift to work anyway. Actually, you ought to get a mortgagethe interest rates are brilliant right now, and its really not on to still be living with your folks at thirty-five. Just some friendly advice.
The stunned staff looked after Alice as she marched off to textile class.
While her classmates were learning how to use a tailors ruler and thread a needle in the sewing machine, Alice repaired her old school trousers, took in a skirt for good measure, and crocheted a pair of socks, presenting them to her textiles teacher and mentioning that pregnant women needed to keep their feet warm. The teacher immediately excused herself and rushed out to the chemist to get a pregnancy test. The next day, the whole class shared a delicious chocolate cake as thanks from the teacher to Alice.
At home, Alice was just as odd. She told off her mum for buying ready-made mince, and made her own dumplings. In the evening, rather than watch YouTube, she picked up The Three Musketeers and kept whispering to someone, now and then. Dad glanced at her over his computer, and Alice scolded him for slouching, suggesting he should go out and give the carpet a good beating, instead of wasting time on dodgy websites.
Rumours began swirling through school, teachers grew concerned and summoned the school psychologist. The meeting was held during school hours with the whole staff committee, including the headmaster.
Alice, dear, are you being bullied at school? began the bearded, bespectacled psychologist.
What upsets me, Alice replied coolly, is that the school got a few million pounds and all weve got in the sports hall is an ancient pommel horse and two metres of rope.
Everyone turned to glare at the headmaster, who promptly found an excuse to climb out the open window for an urgent meeting.
Do you not have any friends? asked the psychologist.
Friendships an abstract concept, Alice drawled, twisting her plaits. One day youre playing tig at playtime, the next your mates washing up in your house while you sort out your tax rebate.
Hang on, tax rebates? Dishes? Whos been telling you this?
My mate.
There you gotheres your problem. Can you invite her here?
Shes here already, Alice replied cheerfully, taking the room by surprise.
We cant see her. Whats her name?
Margaret Parker.
How old is she?
Seventy.
What else does she tell you?
She says brush your teeth from the gums, that the dog on our estate isnt vicious but frightened and hungry, and that you shouldnt neglect your relatives. Oh, andby the way, youve had your council tax calculated wrong for the past five years. You need to go to the Land Registry and have it recalculated according to the market value, not the rateable value.
The psychologist took careful notes, underlining the last bit twice.
Finally, a call went out to Alices parents, both at work at the time.
Wait! That was my mums name! Alices dad shouted, shocked. She died ten years ago.
The office filled with gasps and nervous mutters of prayers.
Thats right, its been ten years, and no one even visits her. The graves overgrown, the railings are wonky, Alice muttered reproachfully.
Well, yes I meant to, but never found the time her father mumbled on the speaker.
The session ended.
The next day, the whole family set off for the cemetery. Alice had never seen her grandmothershe only knew about her from her dads brief stories. The grave was hard to find; the marble stones had multiplied across what once was a pine forest.
Alice brought a bouquet of yellow tulips, stuck them in a cut plastic bottle. Her father fixed the railing, her mother cleared the weeds.
Dad, Nan says youre a decent bloke, but youre lost in your work and your computer, and thats why you never have any timenot even for me.
Dad blushed deeply and just nodded, understanding.
Tell her well make it up, he said, stroking Alices hair, and then the faded photograph on the gravestone.
Shes at peace now, she wont visit me anymore. But Ill miss her loads, shes very kind, funny, and clever.
She was, its true. She saw right through people. Does she tell you anything else?
Yeah. She says your cucumber diet is rubbishif you want to lose weight, youd best join the gym. And that opening that foreign currency account was daftyou should really do your sums before big decisions. Oh, and about that cheap concrete you ordered for the sheds foundationsDad chuckled, a sound both sad and relieved, as if something tight inside him had finally loosened. He brushed the dirt from his hands and glanced aroundat the tidy grave, at Alice, at the gold sunlight flickering over the wild grass. He seemed, for the first time in a long while, less weighed down.
Lets go home, Mum said, linking her arm with his. Weve got a lot of catching up to do.
Alice lingered a moment longer, laying her hand gently against the cool marble. She whispered, Thank you, Margaret, and felt, somewhere just behind her heart, a kind warmth that wasnt quite loneliness and wasnt quite joyjust a gentle sense that someone, somewhere, was listening.
As they walked back along the winding path, Dad squeezed Alices shoulder and grinned. You know, being odd runs in the family. Maybe we ought to pay attention to the people only you can see.
Alice smiled, at peace. The whisper of a laugh, soft and grandmotherly, flitted through the trees, warming the day.
At school the next week, Alice still gave funny advicethough now she started letting people pay her in chocolate, just for fun. When someone asked, How do you know all this stuff? she just grinned, shrugged her plaits, and said, It runs in the familyjust dont forget to call your nan.
After that, everyone seemed a little kinder, a little less hurried, and a little more curious about the friendsseen and unseenwho might be helping them along the way.
