“Did he ask you to go with him?”
“Why would he?”
“Friends do that sometimes.”
“Yes, yes, he did.”
A silence settled over them. Amy pierced the juice box and took a sip, replacing it back on the table soon after. Her hands returned to her lap.
“Okay. Do you have any other friends?”
Amy said nothing. Suddenly, her eyes darted left and she leaned in slightly, as if someone was whispering in her ear. Dr. Barden caught his breath and froze. Before the girl looked back at him, he’d put on a smile. Keep it cool, he thought. It’s a nine-year old girl, for fuck’s sake.
After thirty seconds, her eyes returned to him. “No.”
“None?”
“None. I go to school, people bully me, I come home, and I play with my dolls and toys. That’s all. Sometimes I hang out with my parents.”
Dr. Barden said nothing.
“I do have a puppy, does that count?”
“A puppy?” The doctor felt his eyebrows arching.
“Yes, it’s called Sandy. Daddy bought it for me the other day…two days ago.”
“Really? What kind of puppy?”
“One of the ones out of the toilet adverts.”
Connecting the dots, he smiled. “The Andrex adverts?”
“Yes, the one where it runs down the stairs. I tried it once, knocking the toilet roll down the stairs. My mum wasn’t happy.”
Dr. Barden chuckled. “I can imagine why.”
“Does it count?”
“What…oh, the puppy? No. It’s a pet, not a friend.”
“Oh. In that case, no, no more friends.”
Dr. Barden gulped. He hoped it hadn’t come to this, he was hoping to get the information directly from Amy, at her leisure. You gotta ask, otherwise you might not get anywhere. He twiddled his thumbs and breathed in. Now or never. “What about Charlotte?”
Amy moved back slightly. Her eyes darkened and mouth tightened as her wrists crossed in her lap. Dr. Barden could have sworn the temperature in the room dropped a degree or two. He placed his hands on his knee, crossed too, mimicking the young girl. He didn’t smile, but simply observed and watched.
After a moment, Amy spoke. “What about Charlotte?”
“She’s your friend, right?”
Amy nodded, not saying a word.
“So why don’t you tell me about her?”
“Charlotte is a private person.”
Dr. Barden scribbled gently, the etching on the paper sounded extremely loud in the silent office. He shivered, looking at the word: person. Not girl, or friend, or even woman.
Person. He underlined it.
“That’s fine, we don’t need to know about Charlotte, if she’s a private person, that’s fine.”
Although it would help if you gave us some information, he thought.
“How is she your friend? How long has she been your friend?”
“Do we really need to talk about this?”
“I think so. I think it’s important. Remember, I just want to help.”
Shit—wrong choice of words. She might…
“Help. Help with what?” The glow disappeared from Amy’s face.
Fuck.
Dr. Barden panicked. “Wrong choice of words, darling…”
Oh shit, nice…darling! She isn’t your kid…
“My name is Amy. Help me how?”
Amy shuffled off the sofa, landing on her feet. The movement took Dr. Barden by surprise and he flinched, dropping his notepad. He cowered in his chair, licking his sweating top lip. Amy took a step forward and glared at the doctor.
A shadowy vehemence coated her eyes. Her skin was…was it trembling?
“Help me how?”
The voice wasn’t Amy anymore. It was deep, guttural, and husky. Like a woman’s with a sexy, smoker’s voice, but it sounded anything but sexy, more alien and terrifying coming from a nine-year old girl. He groaned as it reverberated around his skull, making his temples throb. Gooseflesh erupted all over Dr. Barden, tightening his scalp and pinching his sphincter. “Amy, calm…calm down, I didn’t mean help…the word help…”
Amy said nothing. Then, she smiled and backed off. She returned to the couch and picked up her juice box. Dr. Barden, unsure if he’d imagined the whole thing, breathed out and returned to his normal position.
Her eyes were blue, normal. The room wasn’t dark or menacing. Everything was fine.
Maybe I had something dodgy for lunch. He rubbed his stomach, uneasy.
You know what that was. You didn’t imagine shit.
Let’s get her out of here. There’s nothing you can do.
“You asked how Charlotte helps me.”
He looked at the girl, only vaguely interested now. His heart was crashing against his ribcage. He wiped his brow with his sleeves and reached for his water. He gulped half a bottle down in one go, shook his head, breathed out, and looked at Amy.
“Yes.”
No smile came. The effort seemed astronomical.
“Charlotte is my one true friend. She doesn’t judge, she doesn’t pick on me, and she doesn’t ignore me. She advises me, she guides me. She makes my days a little less miserable. I go to school and I’m no one. I go home and I’m second fiddle to two careers and now, a fucking puppy. Charlotte is the only reason I get some attention at home and now, happy and content with a friend who finally gets me, my parents are trying to cut her out of my life. They’re trying to replace her with trips to the cinema and shopping and a dog. It’s mean. It’s uncalled for.”
The revelation smacked Dr. Barden in the face. Why didn’t I see that? Replacing Charlotte…the one thing I told them not to do. He closed his fist, digging his fingernails into his palm. The one thing I told them not to do and they bloody do it!
A tear rolled down Amy’s soft cheek and plinked on her blue collar. Sadness and loss overwhelmed her. She rubbed her face hurriedly and took a long, hard sip from her juice box. “Charlotte is the one good thing in my life and my parents, now feeling guilty about neglecting me, have started to try and cut her out. I don’t think it’s fair.”
Dr. Barden leaned forward, placing the pad and pen on the table. “I don’t think that’s what your parents are trying to do,” he lied. “They’re just worried about you is all. It may seem stupid to you but they’re your parents, they just want what’s best for you. Understand?”
Amy nodded. “Charlotte is my friend. She isn’t going anywhere.”
Dr. Barden strained a smile. “I know.”
Amy stood up. She walked over to Dr. Barden. “You tell my parents that Charlotte is gone, okay?”
“Why would I lie to your parents?”
“Because they lied to you.”
“So?”
“I’ll put it another way. If you don’t tell them Charlotte is gone, I’ll tell them you touched me and that you put your dirty paedo fingers in me, in the privacy of your office, where no one could see. I’ll tell them you tried to fuck me. I can cry and they’ll put you in prison. They’ll believe me.”
Dr. Barden felt a sinking sensation in his stomach. Amy’s eyes were calm, collected, a little red from the tears. She knew exactly what she was saying, watching the doctor for his reaction. She smiled. “Deal?”
“How is she?”
“Nothing a little chat couldn’t sort out.” Dr. Barden emerged from his office and let Amy walk by him. His legs were like jelly. Patricia and Bruce stood up from their couch in the waiting area. Patricia sighed and tossed a women’s magazine onto the side table. Bruce was holding a plastic coffee cup in his hand. Grey stubble adorned his tired face. Amy passed her mother and headed for the exit. Patricia followed, nodding at Bruce.
Dr. Barden watched them leave. Amy turned and shot a final glance at the doctor, smiled, and walked through the door. Dr. Barden shivered, rubbing his arms.
“So, Doc, everything okay?”
Dr. Barden continued watching the door. He said noth
ing.
“Doc?”
He woke from his wordless reverie and smiled half-heartedly. “Yes?”
“How is she?”
“She…she’s fine. Charlotte is still there…but she’s going…she’ll be gone soon. Why didn’t you tell me you bought her a puppy?”
The smile vanished from Bruce’s face. “That’s none of your business.”
“If it affects our dynamic, which it did, then I need to know. She thinks you’re trying to replace Charlotte.”
“We are.” Bruce folded his arms smugly.
“Even though I told you not to?”
“All you told us was a load of doctor bollocks that means shit to no one. That’s our daughter and I won’t be responsible for raising a retard in my own fucking home.”
The receptionist glanced up, concerned at the raised voices. She lifted the phone for security. “Everything okay, Dr. Barden?”
“Things are fine, Carol.”
She put the phone back in its cradle. Dr. Barden turned to her. “Carol, why don’t you head off? I can take it from here. Have a good evening, okay?”
Carol nodded and removed her coat from her chair. After a slight pause, the receptionist walked out of the office.
Both men had their privacy.
“Whatever you did, bringing that dog into your house has changed something. I’m not sure what yet, but…” Dr. Barden thought back to the room, the threats, and the darkness in that child’s eyes. “Charlotte is here to stay.”
“We’ll see about that, won’t we?” Bruce staggered, losing his balance for a split second. He leaned on the fireplace beside him, regaining his balance.
Dr. Barden sniffed the air. He took a quick glance at Bruce, leaned in, sniffed again, and cringed. “Have you been drinking?”
“So what if I have?”
“It’s lunchtime. Didn’t you drive here?”
“No,” Bruce lied. “The wife did.”
Dr. Barden regarded his patient and sighed, breathing out heavily. “Mr. Brunswick, if you continue to push this with her, this Charlotte thing, I can’t be her doctor anymore. You won’t heed my advice so I can’t continue to advise you. Sorry.”
“So be it.” Bruce took a wad of cash from his pocket, peeled off several notes and tossed them at the doctor. They slapped him on the end of the nose. He didn’t flinch. “Thanks for nothing.” Bruce turned and stumbled away, leaving Dr. Barden alone. The door closed behind Amy’s father.
Dr. Barden sighed and returned to his office. He ambled over to his large screen window and looked down at the parking lot. Three cars were present. His silver BMW was in a red outlined space. Carol was climbing into her Volkswagen as he glanced down.
The Brunswicks were milling around their vehicle, waiting for Bruce. He emerged shortly after, allowing Carol to pass him, before walking over to his car.
However, Dr. Barden’s attention wasn’t on the family, or on Bruce who waved the car keys in the air, exposing his lie, or even Amy who was staring up at him, grinning.
His eyes were on a patch of concrete next to Amy.
He rubbed his eyes, unsure what he was seeing. He squinted, lifted his glasses, wiped them, and replaced them, checking it wasn’t his imagination. It could have been a mirage or a smear on his window, or even a figment of his imagination due to the conversation that just occurred.
But it wasn’t. It was strikingly clear.
“You’ve got to be shitting me.”
A shimmering shape stood beside Amy.
The shape of a young girl.
NINE
“How did it go, darling?”
Patricia shifted around in the passenger seat, the leather groaning beneath her tight rump, and glanced at her daughter. In the rear window, the Lake Whisper Medical Facility shrank as the vehicle pulled away. The car veered around a corner. All that remained in view was a long, straight dual carriageway. Her eyes fell to Amy.
The girl was gazing off to the side, staring at the empty seat beside her. A chill ran up Patricia’s spine. She ignored it and, after a moment, Amy turned to face her mother. She beamed. “Yes, Mummy?”
“How did it go? With the nice doctor man?”
“It was okay. He talks a lot.”
“That’s his job, sweetie. What did you talk about?”
“Nothing much. You, Dad, Sandy. And Charlotte.”
A pause. Patricia swallowed silently, averted her gaze to her husband, who didn’t notice, and flicked her eyes back to Amy. “Uh huh…like what?”
“Mum, I’m tired. Can we chat about this later?”
“Sure thing, hon. Sure thing.” Patricia faced front, stealing a glance at Bruce. His face was tired but vehement; a concealed anger was coursing through his veins. She glimpsed a dishevelled face, brought on by lack of sleep and, unknown to her, recent alcohol abuse. Patricia noticed his hands on the steering wheel. The knuckles were white with the vice-like grip. He flexed his arms, the wheel squeaking beneath his tight palms. One hand slid from the wheel and scratched his face, rasping against the coarse stubble.
He snapped out of his daydream and looked in the rear view mirror.
Amy was talking, silently, under her breath, thinking her parents weren’t paying attention. She’d shifted left in her seat, facing the empty space beside her once again. She chuckled silently. Had he not viewed the episode, the noise would have gone unnoticed beneath the roar of the engine. Bruce scowled as his distorted anger reached breaking point.
“Amy Elizabeth Brunswick, you stop that right now.”
Amy flinched and jolted back to her seat. Her eyes roamed the vehicle, before settling on the rearview mirror. Caught. Amy smiled sheepishly. She knew she was in trouble when her father said her full name. “Stop what…”
“…you know what, you little shit,” Bruce interrupted, “This Charlotte bullshit has got to stop. You hear me?”
Patricia frowned at her husband. “Bruce, language.”
Amy shook her head, fighting back the combined warmth of anger and fear in her stomach. Whenever her father raised his voice, it scared Amy like nothing else. Even Ted’s bullying wasn’t as petrifying as her father’s temper. “But…Charlotte…she’s my friend. I was telling the doctor this…”
“The doctor is a fool. Whatever he told you, ignore it, okay? He gave you some bad advice and I won’t have my child subjected to it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Charlotte isn’t real. She never was and never will be and the sooner you fucking accept that, the better. I’m not raising a fucking retard…”
Patricia gasped in the seat beside him. “Bruce.”
“…no, she needs to hear this. I won’t raise a retard in my home. Charlotte isn’t real. Do you want to grow up in a world where people think you’re crazy or mentally retarded? Huh? They will, if you carry on with this bullshit.”
Amy felt the prickling of tears behind her eyes, the warmth that preceded them was familiar. She sniffed, expecting the tears to flow at any second. “She’s my friend,” the girl said, with no confidence or conviction, deflated by her father’s outburst. “My only friend.”
“She’s not real,” Bruce shouted.
The anger broke the dam in Amy’s mind. The tears started to roll down her cheeks. She folded her arms, seeking warmth from her pink bunny coat. She pushed herself back into the seat.
“Bruce, don’t do this. Remember what the doctor told us? We shouldn’t be trying to cut Charlotte…”
“The doctor’s a fraud. She doesn’t need medical help; she needs an injection of common sense and discipline. Something you don’t seem to give her.”
“How dare you? You’re never home! Don’t you dare question my parenting!”
“Excuse me? Look at her, the snivelling shit. No discipline and no common sense. Just because I’m not around to keep you in line.”
Bruce braked and steered the car into their driveway. He put the car in neutral, removed the keys from the ignition with a ra
ttle, and opened the door. Crisp, chilled air billowed into the car. He slammed the door, shaking the car violently.
Patricia turned to her daughter. Before she could say anything, Bruce yanked open the rear door and grabbed his daughter by the arm. “Come on, you little shit. We’re going to end this once and for all.” He pulled his daughter’s arm, her body pulled taut, and she screamed, still restrained by her seat belt. “Ow…Daddy…daddy, don’t…”
“Bruce, you’re hurting her…”
He leant in and unbuckled the seat belt, throwing it aside. The clip swung and nearly hit Patricia in the face. She backed off, unbuckled her own belt, and climbed from the car. Bruce grabbed Amy by both arms and lifted her from the vehicle. He put her on the ground. He bent down to one knee and stared his daughter in the face.
“Where is she?”
The stench on her father’s breath made Amy gag. She coughed and sniffled. “Who?”
“You know who, Charlotte. Where is she?”
Amy sniffled, wiping her face with the back of her gloved hand. Her bottom lip trembled and she turned towards the car. Her left hand raised, curled into a point, and aimed at the back seat. “She’s…there. She came with us.”
Bruce rotated, stared at the empty back seat, and turned back. His head lowered and a grin spread across his face. A laugh escaped his lips.
“Really?”
His hand shot out and smacked Amy across the face. The girl toppled to the cold, snow-coated concrete with a thump. She began crying loudly. Tears streamed down her blazing, welting cheek. Patricia appeared beside her daughter and looked at her husband, aghast. “What did you do?”
“This kid is soft, she needs some fucking discipline.”
“So you fucking hit her? What is wrong with you?”
“Nothing. I’m seeing clearly. She needs to learn to tell the truth and not lie.”
Bruce ambled forward and grabbed Amy by the back of her coat, lifting her to her feet with one hand. She stood, trembling, scared of her father. She raised her hands to her face, fearing another strike. Huge sobs racked her tiny frame. Once again, he kneeled down and looked his daughter in the eye. “I’ll ask you again. Where is she?”
Amy’s eyes were sodden with tears; her skin was starting to puff up. She sniffed, a spool of snot hung from her nose. Amy wiped her face and smeared the transparent goo across her face. Bruce sneered, disgusted. “Where is she?”
Charlotte Page 5
