Imaginary Friend
For the past three days, Lucy had attracted a crowd of schoolchildren around her wherever she went. Word had spread across the whole school that she was some sort of seer and skilled psychologist. Everyone was eager to claim a slice of her supposed wisdom. Theyd corner her outside the toilets, plop down next to her in the canteen, and bring her giftssweets, notebooks with unfinished homework, or other offerings, all of which she mysteriously refused.
I fancy Thomas from Year 6B, sighed Kate, my classmate, her eyes dreamy and hopeful. Do you think we could ever start a family?
I wouldnt, Lucy replied, munching on a scone and sipping her tea. That Thomas only looks like a sweetheart, but the boys always picking his nose and eating what he finds. Sure, youll never worry about putting food on the table, but thats about it. Hell pick away his whole life, believe me.
Ugh! Thats disgusting! What about Charlie then? Hes top of the class and learning the guitar. Kates smile returned as she tried her luck again.
That Charlie is cruel to cats. Ties tin cans to their tails and chases them around the estate. Hell grow up to be harshand a drinker, too.
Why do you think that?
Have you ever met a sober guitarist? Anyway, youre far too young to bother with all this. The lads arent going anywhere. Youd be better off brushing up your maths and stopping chewing your nailsthats how you get worms.
I havent any friends, piped up Paul from Year 5C, pushing love-struck Kate along the bench so hard she slid to the other end.
Sign up for wrestling next Wednesdayforms are with Mr. Barnes, the PE teacher. You might not get slimmer, but no one will dare call you names. And dont go shoving your future wife around like that.
Lucy stood and carried her tray over to the sinks, where Ms. Green, the geography teacher, happened to be rinsing her mug.
Lucy, love, do you think I should learn to drive this year or next? Ms. Green casually inquired.
Ms. Green, you only need driving lessons if you have a car, but all youve got is your dads battered Ford Fiesta. See the difference?
I… think so
Lucy rolled her eyes, washed her hands, and continued, Sell that poor old thing. With the money, buy yourself a good bike and some decent shorts. In two months, someone will be giving you a lift to work anyway. Better yet, take out a mortgagerates are brilliant just now, and its hardly proper to live with your parents at thirty-five. I say that as someone in the know.
The room fell silent save for startled stares as Lucy walked off to her craft class.
In forty minutes, while the other girls puzzled over tape measures and how to thread a needle, Lucy had darned her own trousers, taken in a skirt, and crocheted a pair of socks as a gift for their pregnant craft teacher, remarking sensibly that it was best to keep your feet warm in such circumstances. The teacher excused herself straight away, nipped to Boots for a pregnancy test, and the next day, the class enjoyed the finest chocolate cake as thanks from a rather grateful teacher.
At home, Lucy behaved just as peculiarly. She scolded her mum for buying ready-made mince and made the dumplings herself. That evening, instead of binging YouTube, she started reading The Three Musketeers and kept whispering as if someone was chatting to her. Her dad kept peeking over his laptopbut Lucy chided him for slouching and suggested he’d be better off beating the dust out of the rug, rather than faffing about on dodgy websites.
Rumours started spiralling at school, and the staff were in a flap. The head called for the school psychologist, and Lucy was summoned for a session. The whole staff committee gatheredhead teacher included.
Lucy dear, is anyone at school being unkind to you? began the psychologist, a chap with a trendy beard and thick specs.
Im only bothered by the fact the school was given millions, yet all we got for the gym was an ancient vaulting horse and a bit of manky rope.
Everyone glanced at the head, who made a strange exit through the open window, mumbling about an urgent meeting.
And you dont have any friends? he continued.
Friendship is a woolly idea, yawned Lucy, absently twisting her plaits. One day youre playing tag at break, the next your mates at your house washing up while youre sorting out your tax relief forms.
Waitwhat tax relief, what washing up? Who tells you all this?
My friend.
Right, theres the heart of the matter! Can you invite her here?
Shes already here, Lucy replied, perfectly calm, giving the room a collective shiver.
We cant see her. Whats her name?
Margaret Thompson.
Excuse me? How old is she?
Seventy.
What does she tell you?
She says you mustnt forget to brush from gum to tooth, the barking dog in my street is just scared and hungry, and that you shouldnt neglect your relatives. Andohthat your property tax has been worked out wrong for the last five years. You need to go to the Land Registry and ask for a recalculation, because they counted it from the plot value, not the real market rate.
The psychologist scribbled everything down, underlining the last point twice.
The session ended with a speakerphone call to my parents at work.
Hold on! shouted my dad on the line. Thats my mums name! She passed away ten years ago.
The room filled with gasps and hurried prayers.
Exactly, Lucy muttered, a bit down. Its been ten years, and nobody ever visits. The grass is knee-high, and the fence is all crooked.
Well, I I meant to but, you know, never found the time Dad blustered.
That was the end of the session.
The very next day, we all trundled off to the cemetery. Lucy had never met her granjust heard the odd story from Dadbut eventually we found the grave, hidden among the now-overgrown headstones that had once been part of a pine woods. She brought a bunch of yellow tulips and popped them in a cut-down plastic bottle. Dad fixed the fencing, Mum pulled the weeds.
Dad, Gran says youre a good man but lost to work and the internet, so youve no time for anything elsenot even me.
Dad blushed and nodded sheepishly.
She wants you to promise to change, Lucy insisted, as he patted her on the head and placed his hand gently on the faded photograph.
Shes at peace now and wont visit me anymore, Lucy said quietly, but Ill really miss her. She was so kind, funny and clever.
Thats true, Dad managed. Gran always saw right through people. Anything else she wants to say?
Yes. She reckons your cucumber diets a load of rubbish. If you want to lose weight, go to the gym. And opening a foreign currency account was daftyou should always think these things through. And as for that cheap cement you ordered for the shed foundation
It was then I learned that sometimes those who are gone have more to teach us than those still here, if we only care to listen.
