Imaginary Best Friend

Imaginary Friend

For the third day running, crowds of pupils gather around Ellie. She’s earned a reputation across the whole school as a fortune-teller and a real psychologist, and now everyones hoping to benefit from her wisdom. They waylay her outside the toilets, slide into the canteen seats next to her, and try to bribe her with chocolate bars, jotters with their homework, and other small offeringsall of which she always politely refuses.

“Ellie, I really like Jamie from Year 5B. Do you think we could end up together?” asks classmate Alice dreamily.

“I wouldn’t. Jamie might look like a good lad, but really, he’s the sort who picks his nose and eats it. Food will never be an issue, of course, but thats about it. Thats your lifeone big picking spree,” Ellie replies over a ginger biscuit, slurping her tea.

“Ugh, that’s disgusting! What about Tom then? He gets top marks and is learning to play the guitar,” Alice presses on, cheeks glowing.

“Toms the one who tortures the neighbours’ cats. Ties a tin to their tails and chases them down the street. Hell turn out cruel, not to say hell turn to drink later on.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Come on, when have you ever seen a sober guitarist? Besides, youre too young to obsess over this, just enjoy life for nowboys arent going anywhere. Brush up on your maths, and stop biting your nails or youll end up with worms.”

“I dont have any friends. Everyone calls me fat and never invites me anywhere,” sulks Patrick from Year 4V, pushing love-struck Alice far down the bench.

“Sign-ups for wrestling start on Wednesday. Put your name down at the PE teachers office. You might not lose weight, but at least no one will dare tease you again. And dont you go throwing your future wife around like that.”

Ellie stands up and takes her tray to the washing-up station.

“Ellie, do you think I should learn to drive this year or next?” Mrs Greenwood, the geography teacher, asks casually, standing by the sink.

“Mrs Greenwood, you need a car to learn to drive, and all you have is your dads old Ford Fiesta. See the difference?”

“I I suppose I do”

Ellie rolls her eyes, washes her hands, and continues: “Better sell the poor thing and buy a bicycle and some shortsyoull be cycling to work anyway in two months. Really though, think about getting a mortgageinterest rates are lovely at the moment, and living with your parents at thirty-five isnt the done thing. Take it from someone who knows whats what.”

With a string of bemused stares trailing behind her, Ellie heads off to her textile class.

While her classmates are painstakingly learning how to use a tailors ruler and threading needles for the first time, Ellie mends a pair of trousers she brought from home, takes in her skirt, and even crochets a pair of socks. She hands them to the textiles teacher, saying pregnant women should keep their feet warm. The teacher immediately asks for time off and dashes to the pharmacy for a test. The very next day, the entire class enjoys a delicious chocolate cake the teacher bakes for Ellie as thanks.

At home, Ellie acts out of character. She scolds her mum for buying ready-made mince and makes a batch of homemade dumplings. In the evening, instead of watching YouTube, she takes up “The Three Musketeers” and quietly whispers to someone from time to time. Her father peers at her over his laptop, but Ellie is quick to comment, telling him to stop slouching, and to go beat the rug outsidenot to be lurking about on those dodgy sites.

Rumours race around the school. The staff are worried and call in the school psychologist. A meeting is held in the middle of the school day, with the entire teaching committee gathered, the headteacher included.

“Ellie, my dear, is anyone at school upsetting you?” begins the psychologist, a man with a trendy beard and glasses.

“What upsets me is, we were allocated a few million for the school, and all we got in the gym is an old pommel horse and a couple of yards of rope,” Ellie retorts, fixing her pigtails with bored indifference.

All eyes swivel to the headteacher, who slips out through the window for an urgent meeting.

“Dont you have friends?”

“Friendship is an abstract notion,” Ellie drones, twirling a plait. “Today, youre playing tag at lunchtime. By tomorrow, your best mate is doing your washing-up while you fill out your tax rebate.”

“Waittax rebates, washing-up? Who told you all this?”

“My friend.”

“Theres the root of the problem! Can you invite her in?”

“Shes already here,” Ellie answers calmly, leaving the adults visibly startled.

“We cant see her. Whats her name?”

“Mrs Maureen Barrett.”

“How old is she?”

“Seventy.”

“And what does she say to you?”

“She says you should brush your teeth from the gums down, that the dog in my street isnt viciousjust scared and hungry, that you mustnt forget family. Oh, and that your council taxs been calculated wrong for five years straight. Go to the council, get it recalculated by the current market rates, not just the band.”

The psychologist scribbles everything down, underlining the last comment twice.

The school calls Ellies parents at work on the tannoy.

“Wait! That was my mum’s name! She died ten years ago,” her father cries through the phone.

A wave of gasps and whispered prayers fills the staffroom.

“Exactly. Its been ten years and no ones even visited. The graves overgrown, the railings are rusty,” Ellie says reproachfully.

“Its just theres never the time” her dad mumbles, his voice heavy with guilt.

With that, the session ends.

The next day, the family drives out to the cemetery. Ellie never knew her grandmother, only scraps of stories from her father. It takes some searching to find the gravethe marble field has eaten up what was once a pine forest.

Ellie lays a bouquet of yellow tulips in a cut bottle. Her dad fixes the fence, and her mum pulls up weeds.

“Dad, Grandma says youre a good man, but youve buried yourself in work and the internetyou never have time. Not for anything. Not even for me.”

Her father flushes, nods in understanding, too embarrassed to speak.

“Promise youll change,” he says, stroking Ellies hair and the faded photo on the headstone.

“Shes at peace now. She wont come to me anymore, though Ill really miss hershe was so kind, funny, and clever.”

“Youre right. Grandma could see right through people. Did she say anything else?”

“Yes. She said your cucumber diets rubbishif you want to get fit, just join a gym. And that opening that currency account was daft. You shouldve done your sums properly before making such decisions. As for that cheap concrete you ordered for the foundation of the shed…”