‘Ivan says that all mums use him to make their kids eat vegetables.’
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows and smiled. ‘Well, you can tell Ivan that’s because mums know best.’ Her smile faded – well, some mums, at least.
‘Tell him yourself,’ Luke giggled.
‘Right then.’ Elizabeth faced the empty chair ahead of her. ‘Where do you come from Ivan?’ She leaned forward and spoke as if addressing a child.
Luke started laughing at her and she felt silly. ‘He’s from Ekam Eveileb.’
It was Elizabeth’s turn to laugh. ‘Oh, really? And where’s that?’
‘Far, far away,’ Luke said.
‘How far? Like Donegal-far?’ she smiled.
Luke shrugged, already bored with the conversation.
‘Hey,’ Elizabeth looked at Luke and laughed, ‘how did you do that?’
‘Do what?’
‘Take a potato from Ivan’s plate?’
‘I didn’t,’ Luke frowned. ‘Ivan ate it.’
‘Don’t be sil—’ she stopped herself.
Later that evening Luke lay on the floor of the living room, humming that song, while Elizabeth drank a cup of coffee and stared at the television. It was a long time since they had done that. Usually they went their own separate ways after dinner. Usually they didn’t talk so much during the meal, but then usually Elizabeth didn’t humour Luke by playing silly games. She began to regret what she had done. She watched Luke colouring with his crayons on the floor. She had put down a mat so that he wouldn’t dirty the carpet and although she hated when he played with his toys outside the playroom, she was glad that he was playing with some toys that she could at least see. Every cloud and all that. She turned her attention back to her house makeover show.
‘Elizabeth.’ She felt the tap of a little finger on her shoulder.
‘Yes, Luke?’
‘Drew this for you.’ He handed her a brightly coloured picture. ‘It’s of me and Ivan playing in the garden.’
Elizabeth smiled and studied the drawing. Luke had written their names over two matchstick men but what came to her as a surprise was the height of Ivan. He was over twice the size of Luke and was dressed in a blue T-shirt, blue jeans, blue shoes and had black hair and great big blue eyes. What looked like black stubble lined his jawline, and he held hands with Ivan with a big smile on his face. She froze, not quite knowing what to say. Shouldn’t his imaginary friend be the same age as he?
‘Eh, Ivan is very tall for only being six, isn’t he?’ Maybe he had drawn him larger than life because he was so important to him, she reasoned.
Luke rolled around the floor giggling. ‘Ivan always says there’s nothing only about being six and, anyway, he’s not six.’ He laughed loudly again. ‘He’s old like you!’
Elizabeth’s eyes widened in horror. Old like her? What kind of imaginary friend had her nephew created?
Chapter 12
Friends come in all different shapes and sizes, we all know that, so why should ‘imaginary’ friends be any different? Elizabeth had it all wrong. In fact Elizabeth had it completely wrong because as far as I could see she didn’t have any friends. Maybe it’s because she was only looking for thirty-four-year- old women that looked, dressed and acted like her. You could tell by the look on her face, she thought Luke should have found someone exactly like himself when she looked at Luke’s picture of me and him. And that’s no way to make friends.
The important thing is not what we look like but the role we play in our best friend’s life. Friends choose certain friends because that’s the kind of company they are looking for at that specific time, not because they’re the correct height, age or have the right hair colour. It’s not always the case but often there’s a reason why, for example, Luke will see me and not my colleague Tommy, who looks six years old and constantly has a runny nose. I mean, I don’t see any other older males interacting with Luke, do you? Just because you see ‘imaginary’ friends, it doesn’t mean you see them all. You have the ability to see them all but as humans only use ten per cent of the brain, you wouldn’t believe the other abilities there are. There are so many other wonderful things that eyes could see if they really focused. Life’s kind of like a painting. A really bizarre abstract painting. You could look at it and think that all it is is a blur. And you can continue living your life thinking that all it is is a blur. But if you really look at it, really see it, focus on it and use your imagination, life can become so much more. That painting could be of the sea, the sky, people, buildings, a butterfly on a flower or anything except the blur you were once convinced it was.
After the events in Elizabeth’s office I needed to call an emergency ‘What IF’ meeting. I’ve been in this job for years and I thought I’d seen it all but I obviously hadn’t. Saoirse seeing me and talking to me had really stumped me. I mean, that’s completely unheard of. OK, so Luke could see me – that was normal. Elizabeth had some sort of a sense of me, which was weird enough, but I was beginning to get used to it. But Saoirse seeing me? Of course it’s common to be seen by more than one person on a job, but never by an adult, and never by two adults. The only friend in the company who dealt with adults was Olivia and it wasn’t any kind of a rule, just what seemed to be happening all the time. I was confused, I can tell you that, so I got ‘the boss’ to round up all the usual suspects for an unscheduled ‘What IF’ meeting.
Our ‘What IF’ meetings were set up to discuss everyone’s current situations and to knock around some ideas and suggestions for people who are slightly stuck. I’ve never had to call one on my behalf, so I could tell the boss was shocked when I did. The name of the meeting has a double meaning. We were all tired of being labelled as ‘imaginary friends’ among people and the media, so we decided to call the meeting the What Imaginary Friends meeting. I thought up that idea myself.
The six people that meet are the most senior people in the company. I arrived at the What IF room to the sound of everyone laughing and playing. I greeted them all and we sat and waited for the boss. We don’t meet around long conference tables with smelly leather chairs in a boardroom with no windows. We have a more relaxed approach to it and it really has a much more positive effect because the more comfortable we all feel, the more we can contribute. We sit in a circle on comfortable seats. Mine’s a beanbag. Olivia’s is a rocking chair. She says it’s easier for her to do her knitting that way.
The boss’s not really bossy, we just call her that. She’s really one of the nicest people you’ll ever meet in your whole entire life. Now she’s really seen it all: she knows everything there is to know about being a best friend. She’s patient and caring, listens and hears what people don’t say more than anyone I know. Opal is her name and she’s beautiful. She floated into the room just then in a purple robe, her dreadlocks tied back in a half-ponytail away from her face, and they hung down past her shoulders. She had tiny sparkling beads throughout that glistened when she moved. She had daisies nestled into her dreadlocks like a tiara, a daisy chain around her neck and around her wrists. Round purple-tinted glasses sat on her nose, and when she smiled the beam was enough to guide ships into shore on a black night.
‘Nice daisies, Opal,’ Calendula said softly from beside me.
‘Thank you, Calendula,’ she smiled. ‘Me and little Tara made them today in her garden. You’re looking very dressed up today. What a lovely colour.’
Calendula beamed. She’s been a best friend for absolute donkey’s years, like me, but she only looks the same age as Luke. She is small with blonde hair that was today styled into bouncing curls, softly spoken, with big blue eyes, and was dressed in a yellow summer dress with matching yellow ribbons in her hair. She had gleaming new white shoes that swung from her hand-crafted wooden chair. The chair always reminded me of a Hansel and Gretel chair, yellow with painted hearts and candy sticks.
‘Thank you, Opal.’ Calendula’s cheeks turned rosy. ‘I’m going to a tea party after this meeting with my new best friend.�
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‘Oh?’ Opal raised her eyebrows, impressed. ‘Very nice. Where is it?’
‘In the back garden. She got a new tea set for her birthday yesterday,’ she replied.
‘Well, that’s lovely. How are things with little Maeve?’
‘Well, thank you.’ Calendula looked down in her lap.
The noise from the others in the room died down and all the focus was on Opal and Calendula. Opal wasn’t the type of person to ask everyone to be quiet in order to start the meeting. She always began it quietly herself, knowing that the others would soon finish their conversations and settle down in their own time. She always said that all people needed was time and then they could figure most things out for themselves.
Opal was still watching Calendula fidgeting with a ribbon on her dress.
‘Is Maeve still bossing you around, Calendula?’
Calendula nodded and looked sad. ‘She’s still telling me what to do all the time and when she breaks things and her parents get mad, she blames it on me.’
Olivia, an old-looking best friend, who was rocking in her chair while knitting, tutted loudly.
‘You know why Maeve is doing that, don’t you, Calendula?’ Opal said softly.
Calendula nodded. ‘I know that me being around provides her with the opportunity to be in charge and she is mirroring the behaviour of her parents. I understand why she is doing it and the importance of her doing it, but that kind of treatment day in day out becomes a little disheartening at times.’
Everybody nodded in agreement. We had all been in her shoes at some stage. Most young children liked to boss us around as it was their only chance to do it without getting into trouble.
‘Well, you know she won’t be doing it for very much longer, Calendula,’ Opal said encouragingly, and Calendula nodded, her curls bouncing up and down.
‘Bobby.’ Opal turned to face a little boy sitting on a skateboard with his cap turned backwards. he had been rolling back and forth while listening to the conversation. On hearing his name he stopped rolling. ‘You must stop playing computer games with little Anthony. You know why, don’t you?’
The little boy with the face of an angel nodded and when he spoke his voice sounded much older than his apparent six years. ‘Well, because Anthony is only three and he shouldn’t be forced to conform to gender roles. He needs to play with toys that allow him to take control, that are flexible and that do more than one thing. Too many of the other toys will stunt his early development.’
‘What kind of things do you think you should be playing with?’ Opal asked.
‘Well, I’m going to concentrate on playing with, well, mostly nothing, actually, so we can do role-playing, or else use boxes, cooking utensils or empty toilet paper rolls.’
We all laughed at the last one. Toilet paper rolls are my absolute favourite. You can do so many things with them.
‘Very good, Bobby. Just try to keep it in mind when Anthony tries to get you to play the computer again. Like Tommy does…’ She trailed off, looking around. ‘Actually, where is Tommy?’
‘Sorry I’m late,’ a loud voice called from the door. Tommy charged in with his shoulders back and arms swinging like a man fifty years older than he. There was muck all over his face, grass stains all down his knees and shins, cuts, scabs and mud on his elbows. He dived onto the beanbag, making a crashing noise with his mouth.
Opal laughed. ‘Welcome, Tommy. Busy, were you?’
‘Yeah,’ Tommy replied cockily. ‘Me and Johnno were down in the park, digging up grubs.’ He wiped his snotty nose across his bare arm.
‘Uugh!’ Calendula wrinkled her nose in disgust and moved her chair closer to Ivan.
‘Alright, princess.’ Tommy winked at Calendula, resting his feet on the table in front of him. The table had been laid out with fizzy drinks and chocolate biscuits.
Calendula looked away from him with wide eyes and concentrated on Opal.
‘So John is the same as usual,’ Opal stated with amusement.
‘Yep, still sees me,’ he replied as though that were some kind of victory. ‘He’s got a problem with bullies at the moment, Opal, and as he’s been intimidated into secrecy, he won’t tell his parents.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘He’s afraid they’ll criticise him or intervene, which will make it worse, and he’s also ashamed that he allowed it to happen. All the typical emotions that goes with bullying.’ He popped a sweet into his mouth.
‘So what are you doing about it?’ Opal asked with concern.
‘Unfortunately what was happening before I came along is that John was experiencing chronic intimidation. He developed a pattern of compliance with the unfair demands of those he perceived as stronger and he was beginning to identify with the bully and become one himself. But I wouldn’t let him push me around,’ Tommy said toughly. ‘We’ve been working on his posture, voice and eye contact – as you know, these communicate a lot about whether you’re vulnerable. I’m teaching him to be vigilant for suspicious individuals and everyday we run over a list of possible attributes.’ He sat back and rested his arms behind his head. ‘We’re working on him developing a mature sense of justice.’
‘And you’ve been digging for grubs,’ Opal added with a smile.
‘There’s always time for grub-digging, isn’t there, Ivan?’ Tommy winked at me.
‘Jamie-Lynn.’ Opal turned to a little girl in denim dungarees and dirty runners. Her hair was cut short and she balanced her behind on a football. ‘How’s little Samantha getting along? I hope you’re both not still digging up her mother’s flower garden.’
Jamie-Lynn was a tomboy and kept getting her friends into trouble, whereas Calendula mostly went to tea-parties in pretty dresses and played with Barbie and My Little Pony. Jamie-Lynn opened her mouth and began blabbering away in a mystery language.
Opal raised her eyebrows. ‘So I see you and Samantha are still speaking your own language.’
Jamie-Lynn nodded.
‘OK, but be careful. It’s not a good idea to keep speaking like that for much longer.’
‘Don’t worry, I know Samantha is learning to talk in sentences and develop her memory so I won’t keep it up,’ Jamie-Lynn said, returning to normal language. Her voice saddened. ‘Samantha didn’t see me this morning when she woke up. But then she did again at lunchtime today.’
Everyone felt sad for Jamie-Lynn and we gave her our condolences because we all knew how that felt. It was the beginning of the end.
‘Olivia, how’s Mrs Cromwell?’ Opal’s voice was gentler.
Olivia stopped knitting and rocking and shook her head sadly. ‘Not long for her to go now. We had a great chat last night about a day trip she had with her family seventy years ago to Sandymount beach. That put her in a great mood. But as soon as she told her family this morning that she’d been talking to me about it they all left. They think she’s talking about her great-aunt Olivia that died forty years ago and are convinced she’s going mad. Anyway, I’ll stay with her till the end. Like I said, there isn’t long for her to go and the family have only visited twice in the past month. She’s not hanging on for anyone.’
Olivia always made friends in hospitals, hospices and homes for the elderly. She was good at that kind of thing, helping people reminisce to fill the time if they couldn’t sleep.
‘Thanks, Olivia,’ Opal smiled, and then she turned to me. ‘So, Ivan, how’s it all going in Fuchsia Lane? What’s the big emergency? Little Luke seems to be doing OK.’
I made myself comfortable on the beanbag. ‘Yeah, he is OK. There are a few things we need to work on, like how he feels about his family setup, but nothing earth-shattering.’
‘Good.’ Opal looked pleased.
‘But that’s not what the problem is.’ I looked around the circle at everyone. ‘His aunt, who adopted him, is thirty-four and sometimes she can feel my presence.’
Everyone gasped and looked at each other in horror. I knew they’d react like that.
‘But that’s not
even the half of it,’ I continued, trying not to enjoy the drama too much because, after all, it was my problem. ‘Luke’s mom, who’s twenty-two, came into Elizabeth’s office today and saw me and spoke to me!’
Double gasp – apart from Opal, whose eyes twinkled back at me knowingly. I felt better when I saw that because I knew that Opal would know what to do. She always did and I wouldn’t have to feel so confused any more.
‘Where was Luke when you were in Elizabeth’s office?’ Opal asked, a smile forming at the corner of her lips.
‘On his granddad’s farm,’ I explained. ‘Elizabeth wouldn’t let me out of the car to go with him because she was afraid her dad would get mad that Luke had a friend that he couldn’t see.’ I was out of breath after that.
‘So why didn’t you walk back to Luke when you got to the office?’ Tommy asked, sprawled across the beanbag with his arms behind his head.
Opal’s eyes glinted again. What was up with her?
‘Because,’ I replied.
‘Because why?’ Calendula asked.
Not her too, I thought.
‘How far is the farm from the office?’ Bobby asked.
Why were they asking all these questions? Shouldn’t the important thing be why on earth all these people were sensing me?
‘It’s about a two-minute drive but twenty minutes’ walking,’ I explained, confused. ‘What’s with all the questions?’
‘Ivan,’ Olivia laughed, ‘don’t act the fool. You know that when you get separated from a friend you find them. A twenty-minute walk is nothing compared to what you did to get to that last friend of yours.’ She chuckled.
‘Ah, come on, everyone.’ I threw my hands up helplessly. ‘I was trying to figure out whether Elizabeth could see me or not. I was confused, you know. This has never happened before.’
‘Don’t worry, Ivan,’ Opal smiled, and when she spoke again her voice was like honey. ‘It’s rare. But it’s happened before.’
Everyone gasped once more.
Opal stood up, gathered her files together and prepared to leave the meeting.
If You Could See Me Now Page 10
