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

by RUPERT LAIGHT

  Just then, the doorbell rang. She heard her dad’s footsteps as he walked down the hall, then the sound of the front door opening.

  For one brief moment, Maria let herself believe that maybe the person standing on the other side of the door was Sarah Jane Smith. Perhaps she’d come back. Then she heard a familiar voice and all her hopes vanished. It was her mum. She entered the room, marched over and stood, hands on hips, in front of Maria. Alan hovered in the doorway.

  ‘I’ve heard your dad’s side,’ said Chrissie. ‘Now what’s going on?’

  Maria looked up. ‘What are you wearing?’ she laughed, as she caught sight of her mum’s outfit. It was odd to see her in a supermarket uniform.

  ‘They’re my work clothes,’ Chrissie said, defensively.

  ‘You’ve got a job? At the supermarket? But you wouldn’t be seen dead working there — wearing that!’

  ‘We’ve had all this out before,’ sighed Chrissie. ‘After I dumped Ivan, I needed a bit of extra cash.’

  ‘You dumped Ivan?’ Maria was confused. This was the first she’d heard of it.

  ‘How many times do I have to tell you, sweetheart?’ Chrissie sounded exasperated. ‘After Andrea saw him snogging Lorraine Groom outside the Conservative Club, it was over.’ She stared at her daughter, frowning. ‘I’m going out with Ricardo now. You’ve met him plenty of times. Now don’t pretend.’

  Maria couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Today was getting more and more bizarre. Why didn’t she remember all these things? They were important. She wouldn’t just have forgotten them.

  ‘What’s going on, love?’ Chrissie sat down on the sofa next to Maria. ‘Are you feeling sick? Your dad says you had a bad night.’

  ‘No, Mum, you must remember something! It can’t just be me!’ pleaded Maria.

  But instead of reassuring her, her mum just plastered on a syrupy smile, like a nurse before an operation. Tell me about this Sarah Jane girl,’ said Chrissie, after a pause.

  ‘She’s not a girl, she’s an adult!’ insisted Maria. ‘She’s my friend, and Luke’s mum. She’s a journalist, she always has been. She drives this little green car. And she’s funny and clever and brave and she never gives up. You know her, Mum. We all know her.’

  ‘I’m sorry, love, but I don’t.’

  ‘And there’s something else…’ Maria could no longer hold back. She had to explain the danger they were all in. ‘Something’s going to happen today. Something terrible. And only Sarah Jane can stop it.’

  ‘And what’s that then?’ asked Alan, coming over and perching on the arm of the sofa.

  ‘There’s a meteor!’ Maria blurted out. ‘It’s going to destroy the world! Unless Sarah Jane can get rid of it!’

  Later, Alan and Chrissie sat on opposite sides of the kitchen table. There was a long silence broken only by a bird chirping in the back garden.

  ‘You know what this is? A cry for attention,’ said Chrissie at last. ‘She’s had all these disruptions. She’s been bottling it up. And now it is all coming out. I knew it would happen. I was just waiting.’

  ‘So, this Sarah Jane — she’s just dreamt her up?’

  ‘Imaginary friend. And this Luke she keeps talking about, he’s like the brother she never had.’

  ‘What does that make Sarah Jane?’ asked Alan, frowning at his ex-wife. ‘The mother she never had?’

  ‘Oh, that’s right,’ Chrissie snapped, narrowing her eyes. ‘Have a pop at me. Here we go. Make it all about Alan and what Alan thinks.’ She got up out of the seat, grabbed her handbag from the table and headed for the door. ‘I’m not listening to this.’

  ‘Maria is in pieces!’ called Alan, angrily.

  ‘Then you put them back together again!’ hissed Chrissie. ‘If your theory’s correct she won’t want her real, terrible mother hanging about, will she?’ Chrissie stomped out of the room and, a few seconds later, the front door slammed shut.

  Maria sat on the edge of her bed with her laptop open in front of her. Alan sat next to her, holding the family photo album.

  ‘Okay, so yesterday evening, what did we do?’

  ‘I picked you up from school,’ said her dad. ‘Then we went to the park.’

  ‘We went with Andrea?’ asked Maria.

  ‘No. She was just passing by. We also bumped into a lad you know from school — Clyde.’

  Who I don’t really know,’ said Maria, sadly, remembering the phone call from earlier.

  ‘You said you knew him vaguely. He’s in some of your classes.’

  ‘And you showed off your skateboarding to him?’ enquired Maria, seeing if their versions of yesterday matched up at all.

  ‘That’s right. And you were cringing. Thanks,’ Alan added, sarcastically.

  Maria thought for a moment. ‘So when did I first meet Andrea?’

  Alan opened the photo album and turned a few pages in. ‘That’s us outside,’ he said, kindly. ‘The day we moved in. Andrea came over and gave us a hand.’

  Maria stared at the photo which showed her and her dad carrying boxes into the house, and Andrea helping them. ‘But Sarah Jane was there. That’s when we met her. She was all frosty. You’ve got to remember that.’

  Alan shook his head. ‘Just Andrea. And she was lovely. Invited us over straight away. She’s always having parties,’ he said, turning to the next page. ‘She lives life to the full does Andrea.’

  Maria looked at the pictures of a party at number thirteen she didn’t recall going to. But there she was with this Andrea person and her dad, looking as if she was having a fantastic time. But how was that possible? She didn’t remember anything about it. Who took the picture? What were they celebrating? ‘I don’t remember any of that,’ she said, sadly.

  ‘Perhaps you should get some sleep.’ Alan looked concerned. ‘Nice little nap, then maybe you’ll feel better.’

  ‘You want me to forget Sarah Jane.’

  ‘There is no Sarah Jane.’

  ‘But she was so real to me. All the things we did, the incredible things we saw…’ Maria remembered the look on her friend’s face whenever they defeated an alien menace. So jubilant, so proud of herself, and of Maria. She couldn’t have made up an amazing look like that, surely?

  ‘Something happened last night and Sarah Jane vanished,’ she said, determinedly. ‘Nobody remembers. But I do. And somehow when everything changed, I got protected. I’m telling you, Dad, I’m right. And I’m gonna show you!’

  Maria double-clicked on the Internet icon on her computer desktop. A window sprung open. In the search engine she typed the words Sarah Jane Smith and hit the return key.

  ‘Sarah Jane Smith — solicitors,’ she read from the list. ‘Sarah Jane Smith — Guernsey Women’s Football.’ Maria scratched her head and scrolled down. ‘There must be some reference…’

  ‘I don’t think there will be.’

  ‘Hang on.’ Something had caught her eye. ‘My Poems by Carla Morgan. For Sarah Jane Smith,’ she read, and then clicked on the link. ‘For Sarah Jane Smith, who left us on 12th July 1964.’ Maria turned to look at her dad. ‘The woman who wrote this, she’s the same age as Sarah Jane.’

  ‘So?’ said Alan, dismissively.

  ‘1964… have they got newspapers in the library? Old newspapers?’

  ‘They should have.’ Alan looked puzzled.

  ‘Come on then!’ grinned Maria, leaping up. ‘Off to the library!’

  ‘Schoolgirl Sarah Jane Smith, thirteen,’ read Maria, ‘died yesterday after falling from Westport Pier in a tragic accident…’

  Maria and Alan were at one of the computers that held the library’s newspaper archive.

  ‘It’s just the same name, darling,’ said Alan.

  She grinned, pleased with herself at having found some mention of her friend. Even if it only spelt tragedy, at least Sarah Jane had existed.

  Maria continued to read. A second girl, Andrea Yates, is being treated for shock…’ She glanced up at her dad. He no longer had that worr
ied look on his face, as if he thought Maria was going mad. He appeared concerned in a different way now.

  ‘But that’s our Andrea from the across the road,’ he said, sounding puzzled. ‘She’s Andrea Yates.’

  ‘You see — I’m not lying. There’s a connection.’

  Alan frowned. ‘Did Andrea tell you about this accident? Is that where you’ve got the name from?’

  ‘Why would I do that?’ she protested. ‘I’m telling the truth!’

  Just then something very peculiar happened. As Maria stared at the article on the screen, the names Sarah Jane Smith and Andrea Yates changed places. She could hardly believe her eyes. ‘Look!’ She elbowed her dad. ‘The names have swapped over.’ But in the blink of an eye, the page was once more as it had been. Alan had missed it.

  ‘No, they haven’t,’ he said.

  Then something else peculiar happened. Maria was sure she heard Sarah Jane’s voice quietly calling her name. ‘Maria…’ it seemed to whisper. But it wasn’t like someone standing in the room with you. It was like an echo of an echo transported on the breeze from dozens of miles away.

  ‘That’s Sarah Jane’s voice!’ cried Maria, excitedly. ‘It’s her voice! I’m sure it is!’

  ‘You can hear voices now?’

  ‘Dad, it was her!’

  ‘You need to calm down,’ said Alan.

  They were being glared at by a grumpy-looking librarian.

  ‘But you’ve seen the evidence,’ said Maria, more quietly.

  ‘There is no evidence.’

  ‘But I’ve worked it out,’ she hissed. ‘Andrea’s done something and Sarah Jane’s gone. Just as that meteor is about to smash into us.’

  ‘That’s enough!’ said Alan, sounding quite cross this time. ‘I think we should take you to see a doctor!’

  ‘Maybe Andrea did say something about the accident,’ said Maria, as she and Alan left the library and turned out onto the main road.

  She knew there was no way her dad was ever going to believe her, and the last thing she wanted was to find herself on a psychiatrist’s couch. She wasn’t mad. She knew she wasn’t. But convincing other people was going to be tough. It was best, for the time being, to keep her theories to herself. ‘Well, that must be it,’ said Alan, with relief.

  ‘And that nightmare — perhaps I’ve got it all mixed up. I’m really sorry.’ Maria paused and looked her dad in the eye. ‘Of course I know Andrea,’ she lied.

  Alan smiled and hugged his daughter tightly. ‘I’ve been so worried,’ he said.

  ‘I didn’t hear a voice,’ added Maria, knowing she had to be as convincing as possible. ‘I was just making that up.’

  ‘But why, sweetheart?’

  ‘I dunno,’ she shrugged. ‘I think I just wanted some attention.’

  ‘Is there something else wrong?’ Alan frowned. ‘Something at school?’ He paused, suddenly looking uneasy. ‘Have I done something wrong?’

  ‘No,’ said Maria, shaking her head. ‘It’s just me.’

  ‘If there’s anything you want to talk about, I’ll give you all the attention in the world.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad.’

  They walked on for a few moments in silence.

  Maria knew she had to find out the truth about the day Sarah Jane supposedly died falling off that pier, but she had to be careful. She didn’t want her dad to suspect a thing.

  ‘Perhaps I should go and see. Andrea,’ she ventured, trying to sound innocent. ‘I ought to go and say sorry.’

  Alan nodded. ‘Good idea.’

  ‘Oh, that’s all right, love,’ said Andrea in a sympathetic tone. ‘There’s no need to apologise. I remember when I was your age…’ She smiled to herself. ‘The thoughts that would come into my head sometimes.’

  ‘I don’t know where I got that name — Sarah Jane Smith.’ Maria was carefully testing the water. She wondered whether the mention of her friend would get any kind of reaction.

  ‘Means nothing to me, love,’ replied Andrea, coolly.

  ‘Positive?’ asked Maria.

  ‘Positive.’

  Maria scanned the impostor’s face, but there was nothing. Not even a flicker of recognition, or a hint of guilt.

  ‘But how could you forget?’ asked Maria, a hard note suddenly entering her voice. She wasn’t going to let Andrea off the hook that easily ‘1964… school trip… the pier…’ She stared into the woman’s eyes. ‘She fell. She died. And you were with her.’

  ‘What?!’ exclaimed Andrea, her face turning suddenly pale.

  So she did remember, thought Maria. She knew it! ‘You lived and she died. Only that wasn’t meant to happen. The key moment, when everything in the world changed…’

  Maria watched as Andrea’s eyes became empty, sad. It was as if she’d left the room, left Bannerman Road, and was back in 1964, remembering the terrible events of that day on the pier. She looked haunted — pale and haunted by the past.

  Then no sooner had she drifted away than she was back again, her expression now full of rage. She turned her angry glare upon Maria. ‘Get out of my house!’ she snapped.

  ‘This isn’t your house!’ Maria snapped back. ‘This is some kind of time gone wrong. Because in my world, the way things should’ve been, you died!’

  ‘Get out!’ shouted Andrea, pushing Maria away from her and towards the door. ‘I’ve had enough of this! I’m phoning your dad! Get out!’

  Maria backed out into the hall, Andrea advancing on her all the while. ‘Just to let you know — I’m going to sort things out.’ She was now flat against the front door. ‘I’m going to work out how time got changed, find Sarah Jane, and then I’m going to bring her back!’ Maria took a deep breath. ‘And nothing is going to stop me!’

  Chapter Five

  The attic mirror

  ‘No!’ moaned Andrea to herself. ‘Oh, no!’

  And she ran up the stairs and into the attic.

  ‘That day…. the pier…’ She looked around the dusty, cobweb-filled room. There was something she knew she had to find. Something she hadn’t seen in decades. But where was it? What was it? She couldn’t even remember.

  Andrea searched through a crate filled with old crockery and saucepans she didn’t use any more. Nothing. Then she looked in another, but this only held books she’d read long ago and forgotten. She turned over another packed with bank statements, bills and letters from friends she hadn’t seen in years.

  Finally, digging deep in a cracked tea chest with rusty binding shoved into a dark corner, beneath stacks of yellowed newspapers and an out- of-fashion cocktail dress, she found something. The something she was looking for.

  ‘Oh, Sarah…’

  Wrapped in a satin scarf was a silver box. It was etched all over with a strange, ornamental pattern.

  As she stared at the box, she heard a low, sinister voice. ‘Remember…’ it called, drawing out every syllable. ‘Andrea… remember…’

  But where was it coming from? No, it couldn’t be!

  Still holding the box, Andrea slowly walked towards the mirror. She stared into the dusty glass, in which suddenly there appeared the shape of a black-cloaked figure. Andrea span around, but there was no one standing behind her. He seemed only to exist in the mirror.

  But instead of screaming or running out of the room like any normal person would do, Andrea found herself strangely calm. This shape, this being, was more familiar to her than she at first realised.

  ‘Who are you?’ she demanded, terrified.

  ‘Remember!’ he said, in the same hushed echo.

  ‘Remember!’

  And that was when it all came back to her. Everything that had happened when she was thirteen; on that school trip to Westport. It was as if it had taken place this morning, it was so sharp in her mind’s eye.

  ‘I forgot you,’ she said, stunned at her poor memory. 1 forgot what I did that day. All these years, living this life…’

  ‘You forgot me, Andrea Yates. But I never forgot you.’
<
br />   Andrea shuddered.

  ‘The day she died, you gave me this.’ She stared at the box in her hand.

  ‘My gift,’ said the faceless figure. ‘But why are you calling me now?’

  ‘Maria Jackson, over the road,’ said Andrea. All of a sudden, she keeps going on about Sarah Jane. She knows. She knows what I did that day — and she’s made me remember.’ It was so painful for her to recall.

  ‘She’s just a child. Nobody will listen.’

  ‘But I can’t bear it…’ She looked down once again at the box. ‘How could I forget what I did, what we agreed? Did you make me forget?’

  ‘Your life is better, is it not?’

  ‘Yes,’ Andrea admitted, after a pause, and she nodded her head sadly. The tears were starting to force their way out the corners of her eyes. She strained to hold them back.

  ‘What do you want from me?’ asked the creature, its tiny, sharpened teeth glinting in the half-light of the attic.

  ‘Change her back the way she was — the girl over the road. Make her forget.’

  ‘I can’t. There is a barrier. She is protected, somehow.’ He paused. ‘But I can remove her for you.’

  ‘No!’ cried Andrea. ‘Not killing!’

  ‘I cannot kill,’ he replied. ‘But I can stop her ruining your life. One night’s sleep and you will forget her, forget me, forget everything, once more.’

  ‘Remove her where?’

  ‘This need not concern you. But I need your agreement. Do I have it?’

  Andrea struggled with herself. She knew it was wrong, yet what could she do? If she was to continue living this life, then she must agree to what this meddler in time suggested. ‘Yes,’ she said, forcing the word out. A tear trickled down her cheek.

  ‘It shall be arranged. But first, Andrea Yates, you must separate the child from her father…’

  Maria now knew she was right. It was Andrea who should have died falling off Westport Pier when she was thirteen years old. Someone, something, had got in the way and now everything was the opposite of what it ought to be.

  And it seemed that Maria was the only one in the entire world who knew that time had been turned on its head. Everyone else believed this was the way things had always been. They thought that this was how life was meant to turn out — for better or worse. Maria knew the truth. But what could she do about it? Without Sarah Jane she was lost.