[Sarah Jane Adventures 05] - Whatever Happened to Sarah Jane

by RUPERT LAIGHT

  Maria followed along behind and watched as she ran a finger along the spines of several rows of dusty books. She wondered what her friend wanted with her — the anticipation was exciting, if a little frustrating.

  Sarah Jane’s hand came to rest on a volume entitled UNIT: Fighting For Humankind. She pulled the book out and put it down on the floor. Then she reached into the space it had left and pulled out a battered brown leather case used to store binoculars.

  Maria watched as Sarah Jane opened the case and produced, not a pair of binoculars, but a much smaller object, wrapped in black velvet. Maria was eager to know what it was.

  This is for you,’ Sarah Jane said, unwrapping the velvet to reveal a small silver box, which she proudly handed to Maria.

  ‘Wow!’ Maria carefully turned the object around in her hands. The box was perfectly square, about the size of a Rubik’s Cube, and etched all over with a strange, ornamental pattern.

  ‘It’s beautiful. Where did you get it?’

  ‘Remember that Verron soothsayer we helped fly home the other week? It’s from him.’

  ‘But what’s it for?’ asked Maria, dropping down onto a red chaise longue, still unable to take her eyes off the glittering cube in her hands.

  ‘I don’t know,’ mused Sarah Jane, sitting down next to her. ‘He said, “Remember.” Just remember. Whatever that means.’

  ‘So why are you giving it to me?’

  ‘He said, “Give it to the person you trust the most.” And that’s you. It’s probably best not to tell Luke that bit.’

  ‘What’s in it?’ asked Maria.

  ‘Have a look.’

  Maria tried her hardest to slide any of the side panels, but whichever direction she went in, and however hard she pushed, none of them would yield. The box didn’t seem to want to be opened. ‘How do you get in?’ she asked. ‘It’s impossible.’

  ‘I tried, too,’ admitted Sarah Jane. ‘Mr Smith says there’s nothing in it. It’s just a puzzle box.’

  ‘What’s a puzzle box?’ asked Maria.

  ‘It’s a Japanese thing. They make these ornamental boxes that only the owner can open. And sometimes not even them.’

  ‘Right…’

  ‘I forgot all about it till this afternoon. But there — it’s yours.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Maria, smiling warmly at her friend.

  ‘Pop round tomorrow. Let me know how you get on.’

  ‘And we can bash that meteor!’

  ‘Should be fun,’ laughed Sarah Jane.

  A little after ten o’clock that night, Maria was sat on the edge of her bed in her dressing gown. The only light in the room came from the TV set, which she had turned down low. In her hand was the silver box Sarah Jane had given her earlier. She was determined to open it. It must be possible…

  She stared at the box for quite some time, turning it around and looking for an obvious opening, a point to get inside. It seemed liked the corners offered the most likely way in, so she twisted them in every direction, pulling as hard as she could on each one in turn.

  Then something happened. One of the corners suddenly rotated with a strange crunch, like the sound of tiny cogs grinding against one another.

  ‘Yes!’ Maria chirped, triumphantly. ‘That must be it!’

  Her dads voice came from downstairs. ‘Turn that telly off, Maria! You should be asleep!’ It was his strict voice. The one he kept for when he was cross.

  ‘Okay!’ Maria called back. However, she didn’t do what he’d told her. Instead, she carried on grappling with the box. She knew she was getting close to figuring it out, and was positive something interesting was just about to happen. It was only a matter of finding the correct method. Then the whole thing would spring open and reveal its secret.

  But instead, she just hurt her fingers. It was sealed tight. She let out a loud, frustrated grunt.

  ‘Maria!’ This time Alan sounded really cross.

  Outside, on a darkened Bannerman Road, walked a tall, black-cloaked figure. The same spectre that had haunted the park earlier that day. However, this time it was on a mission. A mission of chaos.

  The figure stopped outside number thirteen and turned its hooded gaze upon Sarah Jane’s house.

  Maria tried one last time to make the box open. It was very late by now and her dad would flip out if he knew she still hadn’t gone to sleep.

  This time, instead of using all her strength, Maria decided she would twist the box with only the gentlest touch. After all, brute force didn’t always get results.

  To her surprise something happened. It slid effortlessly open with a diagonal movement, forming two offset pyramid shapes.

  She stared at it, grinning, waiting for something amazing to drop out. But nothing did. It just sat there.

  ‘Is that it?’ sighed Maria, sad that the box had proved such an anti-climax. She let the alien object fall onto the duvet beside her, then pulled the covers up to her chin and yawned into a much-needed sleep.

  The black figure raised a slender, pale hand and pointed at Sarah Janes house. A jewelled ring glinted in the street light.

  An eerie rustling noise began, building rapidly from the volume of a hoarse whisper into the clamour of a thunderous storm.

  And then, Sarah Janes car vanished away, leaving only a misty vapour…

  Beside Maria, who was now sleeping soundly, the silver box glowed with a strange blue light…

  On the street, the menacing figure raised his finger again. This time, all the lights suddenly went off inside number thirteen. And the sound of the wind became the sound of thousands of tiny, urgent voices whispering all at once…

  ‘Dad!’ yelled Maria, sitting bolt upright in her bed. And the silver box fell to the floor…

  The figure turned away from Sarah Jane’s house and, for a moment, the street lights illuminated its face. But there was no face. Just white, featureless skin where the eyes and nose should be, and a twisted, red slash in place of a mouth.

  The creature vanished in a whirl of mist…

  ‘What’s the matter?’ cried Alan, flinging open the door to his daughter’s room.

  ‘I’m okay,’ replied Maria, out of breath.

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Yeah, it was just a bad dream.’ She tried to smile in order to reassure her dad that everything was fine.

  ‘All right,’ said Alan, with a frown of concern, backing out. ‘Goodnight.’

  After he’d gone, Maria lay still for a few minutes, trying to figure out what had woken her with such a fright. Eventually, exhaustion claimed her, and she drifted off to sleep again.

  Beneath her bed, the box, lying forgotten where it had fallen, glowed with a blue light, then slowly faded to darkness.

  Chapter Three

  The woman at number thirteen

  Maria poured milk on her cornflakes, dusted them with a light shower of sugar, and tucked in. She was starving.

  ‘Morning,’ Alan said, breezily entering the room. ‘You okay now?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she replied, through a mouthful of breakfast. ‘Fine.’

  ‘Look what I got down from the loft.’ Her dad proudly held out his old skateboard.

  ‘Oh, no,’ sighed Maria. ‘Dad!’

  ‘What? I’m too old, am I?’ Alan said, a little offended.

  Maria glanced out of the window. ‘Just don’t use it anywhere near me…’ She trailed off, as something had suddenly caught her eye. But it wasn’t outside. It was on the windowsill. ‘Where did you get those plants from?’

  ‘Eh?’ Her dad looked puzzled. ‘From Andrea. Housewarming present. Don’t you remember?’ He paused. ‘That reminds me.’ From a drawer he produced an envelope and handed it to Maria. ‘You need to sign this. It’s her birthday card.’

  Maria was confused. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked, frowning. ‘Who’s Andrea?’

  ‘Don’t be daft. Just sign it.’

  ‘Okay, if you say so.’ It must be one of her dad’s work friends, thought Maria,
though she couldn’t recall him mentioning her before. She slid the card out and scribbled her name at the bottom. ‘I’m going over the road to see Luke.’

  ‘Luke?’ Alan looked up from tinkering with his skateboard. ‘Oh, yeah? And Luke’s a lad from school, is he?’ he asked, in a loaded way.

  Maria was baffled. Why was her dad behaving so oddly? ‘What’s wrong with you this morning?’

  As Maria walked up Sarah Jane’s drive, she noticed that her friends car was missing and in its place was an old, blue banger. Surely she’d not got rid of her cool, green motor in favour of that?

  She rang the doorbell and waited.

  ‘Hello, love. You’re early.’

  Maria couldn’t believe her eyes as the door opened. Instead of Sarah Jane, standing in front of her was a total stranger.

  ‘Where’s my birthday card then?’

  Maria stared at her blankly. What was going on?

  ‘I was only joking,’ said the woman, with a reassuring smile.

  ‘Sorry… is Sarah Jane there?’ asked Maria, nervously.

  ‘Say again.’

  ‘Sarah Jane.’

  ‘Is that one of your mates from school?’

  ‘No,’ said Maria, wondering if this was a relative come to stay. ‘Sarah Jane. This is her house.’

  ‘Maria, love, I like a joke, but it’s only half-nine in the morning,’ said the woman, and she pulled her pale green dressing gown tight around her.

  She was about the same age as Sarah Jane, with the same style hair, but hers was auburn, she had a rounder face, and a south London twang to her voice.

  ‘I didn’t stop working till gone three,’ she continued. ‘Once I start painting I can’t stop. Try me again a bit later, eh? You can help me get things ready for the party. Sandwiches won’t butter themselves.’

  ‘Is Luke there?’ Maria asked, eyeing the stranger suspiciously.

  ‘Who?’ The woman shook her head and frowned. ‘You all right, love?’ She paused and stared curiously. ‘Maria?’

  Maria took a step backwards. This was totally freaking her out. Who was this woman? How did she know her name? Where was her friend? Was she going insane?

  Maria burst into the dining room, where her dad was watering the plants with a small copper-coloured can. ‘Something really weird is going on,’ she began. ‘There’s this woman in Sarah Jane’s house.’

  ‘Sorry?’ said Alan, looking up.

  ‘I knocked on the door and there’s this other woman stood there.’

  ‘Hold on. What door?’

  ‘Sarah Jane’s. Number thirteen,’ replied Maria, starting to get frustrated.

  ‘Andrea’s?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Who’s Sarah Jane?’ Alan put down the watering can and turned to face his daughter.

  This was too much for Maria. What was up with everyone today? ‘You can stop this right now! It’s freaking me out!’

  ‘I’m just not getting you,’ said Alan. ‘Sarah Jane?’

  ‘Sarah Jane Smith!’ cried Maria. ‘Our neighbour!’

  ‘There’s no one on this road called Sarah Jane. Not that I’ve met, anyway.’

  ‘Course you have! Stop it! Right — I’ll show you!’

  Maria opened her laptop and clicked on a folder marked Skate Park. There were twenty or so photo files inside. ‘Look!’ she declared. ‘Sarah Jane is definitely in the photos.’

  Alan looked over his daughter’s shoulder as she opened the first image.

  Maria was horrified by what she saw. She flicked on to the next picture. Then the next. And the next. It was all the same. In every single one, Sarah Jane had been replaced by the woman who’d just answered the door of number thirteen.

  It was as if her friend had never existed. But she knew she did exist. Of course she existed. It was everyone else who was going mad, not her. ‘Why is she there?’ cried Maria. Then she noticed something else. ‘Where’s Luke?’ She stared at her dad, but he just stared straight back at her with an extremely confused expression plastered across his face.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, sadly, ‘but I don’t know any Sarah Janes.’ He paused. ‘And I don’t know any Lukes.’

  Maria ignored her dad, stormed from the room, and sat sulkily on the stairs. Pulling her mobile from her pocket, she began scrolling through the phone book. Where had her friend’s number gone? It had to be here. This was unbelievable.

  Where Sarah Jane’s phone number had once been, there was nothing. The list skipped straight from Robbie Chang to School Office. It was as if someone had sneaked in and deleted it without her knowing. But that couldn’t possibly have happened. Why would anyone do that?

  Next she looked for Luke’s number. But that too had disappeared.

  And so had Clyde’s.

  Maria’s heart started to beat faster. She couldn’t understand it. It was as if part of her life had been erased. Or someone had stolen it.

  She tried to recall Clyde’s phone number. It was one of those easy ones with lots of zeros and sevens, she was sure. She must be able to remember! ‘What is it?’ she muttered to herself, frustrated. She thought really hard. ‘Of course! That’s it!’

  Maria dialled the number and pressed the call button.

  It was answered after only two rings.

  ‘Who’s that?’ asked Clyde’s voice.

  ‘It’s Maria!’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Me — Maria!’

  ‘Maria Jackson?’ Clyde sounded surprised, confused.

  ‘You’ve got to get over here. Sarah Jane has vanished.’

  But he ignored this. ‘Maria Jackson from school?’

  ‘Who else would it be?’

  ‘Er… why are you phoning me?’ He sounded really puzzled now. ‘I didn’t give you my number.’ A pause. ‘Who gave you my number?’

  ‘Clyde, tell me, is Luke with you?’

  ‘Luke?’

  ‘We were out yesterday, skateboarding.’

  ‘I bumped into you at the skate park. No one called Luke though.’

  ‘Luke Smith,’ said Maria, urgently. ‘Please tell me you’re having a joke. Was it Sarah Jane’s idea?’

  ‘Who?’ asked Clyde.

  ‘Do you know Sarah Jane?’

  ‘Look, if you wanna ask me out, just ask me out.’ Clyde laughed. ‘I can fit you in next Thursday.’

  ‘But, Clyde, the meteor!’ Maria was starting to sweat.

  ‘What meteor?’

  ‘There’s a huge meteor heading for Earth!’

  ‘Is there now?’

  ‘Only Sarah Jane can stop it and she’s vanished.’

  ‘What are you talking about, you nutter? Laters.’ And Clyde hung up.

  Maria stood outside Sarah Jane’s house and rang the bell. This was getting more and more bizarre by the minute. She had to get to the bottom of it. Perhaps this stranger, Andrea, was holding her friend hostage. Anything seemed possible.

  ‘Hello, love,’ said Andrea. ‘I’ve surfaced.’ She was now dressed. ‘Come on in. Lots to do.’

  ‘Whatever,’ said Maria, and she pushed past the stranger and into the house, determined to find out what was going on.

  She flung open the living room door. Instead of Sarah Jane’s cluttered yet homely style, with comfortable armchairs and row upon row of scientific books, the room was now light and airy, with a huge TV in the corner, a decorative screen, scatter cushions and the walls covered in modern art.

  ‘But it’s… different,’ stammered Maria, stunned.

  Andrea entered behind her. ‘Well, all right, it’s a bit of a mess, but I’m going to clean it up before people come round for the party.’

  Maria pushed past the woman and ran out of the room. As she did so, the doorbell rang. She ignored it and raced up the two flights of stairs to the attic. She paused outside the room for a moment, dreading what she would find. Then she took a deep breath and shoved open the white, panelled door.

  Inside, the attic was a totally different place f
rom the one Maria was used to — just like the living room had been. It was as if Sarah Jane and all the things that made her unique had been shipped out and a whole new life installed there. A much less interesting one.

  The scientific equipment, the alien devices, the clutter, the piles of mysterious, nameless objects were all gone. The room was now just a dusty old loft space used to store picture frames and boxes of junk.

  Maria stared in disbelief.

  Andrea and Alan entered the room.

  ‘Where is she?’ demanded Maria.

  ‘I don’t know who you’re talking about,’ replied Andrea.

  ‘Sarah Jane Smith!’

  ‘Never heard of her.’

  ‘Come on, Maria,’ said Alan, frowning. ‘I think you and I should get back home.’

  ‘But Sarah Jane lives here. In this house. She lives with her son, Luke. Where are they?’ Then she remembered something. ‘Mr Smith!’ She crossed to the wall where the computer lived. A cobweb-covered mirror hung there now. ‘I need you!’ she called out urgently.

  Silence.

  Mr Smith was gone too.

  ‘Mr Smith!’ wailed Maria again. She was near tears now.

  ‘Sweetheart…’ said Alan, softly, placing an arm around his daughter’s shoulders. ‘There is no Mr Smith. There’s no Sarah Jane. No Smiths at all.’

  ‘But Dad, I…’ Maria’s voiced faded to silence. She knew there was no point in trying to convince him any more. It was useless. No one believed her.

  ‘We’re going home now. Come on.’ Alan steered her towards the door.

  As they passed Andrea, Maria kept her eyes aimed at the floor. She didn’t even want to look at the woman.

  ‘Sorry about this,’ said Alan, as they left the room.

  Andrea remained rooted to the spot long after her neighbours’ footsteps on the stairs had faded to nothing. Then she shivered. It was like someone had walked over her grave.

  ‘Sarah Jane Smith,’ she said out loud, for the first time in over forty years.

  Chapter Four

  The library

  Maria was sat in the living room with a cup of tea slowly going cold in her hand. She was resigned to the fact that no one would believe her story. There was no point in going on about it.