You've Got a Friend

by Judi Curtin

  ‘Let’s meet up again soon,’ said Donna. ‘But not this afternoon, because Mam and Dad are getting off work early, and we’re all going to stay with my granny for the night.’

  ‘Maybe we could meet tomorrow or the day after,’ said Pam. ‘Donna and I are planning to make a Swingball set. You can do it with us if you like.’

  ‘You’re going to make Swingball?’ said Beth.

  ‘Sure,’ said Donna. ‘All we’ll need is a brush handle and a wire hanger, and a few other bits and pieces.’

  ‘We made our own Monopoly game last week,’ said Pam.

  I smiled; that actually sounded like fun. Maybe my mum is right when she says that if we didn’t spend so much time on our phones we’d have more time to be creative.

  ‘We’d love to see you again, wouldn’t we, Beth?’ I said. ‘But we live kind of far away, and we’re not around here very much.’

  Donna tore a piece off the cover of her Jackie magazine and wrote down her phone number. ‘Here,’ she said. ‘Ring me the next time you’re around.’

  ‘Or we could send you a—’ I stopped and Donna finished my sentence, ‘—a letter? A postcard?’ she said, looking confused.

  ‘Forget it,’ I said, smiling. ‘If we’re ever back here we’ll give you a call.’

  Beth got up. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Before we go – do you happen to know Eddie and Stephen who live up the road?’

  ‘Sure we do,’ said Pam. ‘My mum is friends with their mum. They’re really cute little kids. It’s a shame Stephen’s been so sick, though.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Has he been in hospital for long?’

  ‘A good while,’ said Donna.

  ‘Nearly three months,’ said Pam. ‘I heard my parents talking about it yesterday – but he’s coming home some time this afternoon.’

  ‘That’s brilliant news,’ I said, so glad that my kid-dad wouldn’t have to deal with Billy on his own anymore. ‘That will be such a big surprise for Eddie.’

  ‘But it’s a shame about the cat, though,’ said Pam.

  ‘I know Pablo only has three legs,’ I said. ‘But that really isn’t a problem. He can—’

  ‘That’s not what I mean,’ said Pam.

  ‘Then what do you mean?’ I asked.

  ‘My mum says that when Stephen comes home he will be very weak. He won’t be able to play outside for ages and he will have to stay away from germs. Stephen’s parents think that cats carry germs so …’

  ‘So?’ said Beth and I together.

  ‘So they have to get rid of the cat,’ said Pam.

  ‘When you say “get rid of ”?’ said Beth.

  ‘They’re sending him to the animals’ home,’ said Pam. ‘Eddie’s dad is going to take him after they bring Stephen home from hospital. They haven’t told Eddie yet.’

  ‘But that’s not fair!’ I said. ‘Taking that cat totally sucks, but if they do it without warning, Eddie won’t even have any time to get used to the idea. He loves that cat so much – it’ll break his little heart.’

  ‘The poor kid,’ said Pam. ‘But I suppose his parents know best. His dad said “a clean quick break” is the way to do it.’

  ‘That’s the cruellest thing I’ve ever heard,’ I said. ‘Come on, Beth, we’ve got to go over there and …’

  ‘And what?’ asked Beth.

  ‘I have no clue,’ I said. ‘But we’ve got to do something.’

  Chapter Nine

  Beth and I said goodbye to our new friends and raced across to Eddie’s house.

  Unfortunately, Billy was walking past. ‘Are you waiting for Eddie the Egghead?’ he said. ‘He’s a sissy – he loves playing with girls – ha, ha.’

  That kid had a very bad memory. Had he already forgotten about our imaginary pet called Leo? Beth pulled her phone out of her pocket, but I shook my head. We didn’t have time for this now.

  ‘Go away, you annoying boy,’ I said, and to my surprise, Billy ran away, looking a tiny bit scared.

  Just then a big blue car pulled into Eddie’s driveway. Beth and I ducked behind a bush and watched as a tall man in a dark suit got out. He opened the back door of the car, and picked up a blanket-wrapped bundle with two skinny legs dangling from it. As the man turned around we could see Stephen’s face. He was pale and very sick-looking – like he hadn’t been out in the fresh air for months and months.

  The front door opened and a woman wearing huge flares and a tie-dyed shirt came out.

  ‘My precious boy,’ she said, stroking Stephen’s face. ‘Home at last. I’ve made your favourite dinner – gammon steaks and Arctic roll for dessert.’

  I had no clue what Arctic roll was, but dad once told me that the food he hated most in the world was gammon steaks.

  ‘And wait till you see the new shelves I put up in your bedroom, Stephen,’ said his dad. ‘They’ll be perfect for all your new toys.’

  As they fussed around Stephen, Eddie appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Say hello to your brother,’ said Eddie’s mum, as if they’d never met before.

  ‘Hi, Stephen,’ said Eddie.

  ‘Hi, Eddie,’ said Stephen in a quiet, weak voice.

  ‘Pablo and I missed you,’ said Eddie. ‘We’re glad you’re home.’

  Stephen smiled. ‘I’m glad too,’ he said. ‘When I’m feeling better we can …’

  Then his dad interrupted. ‘Don’t just stand there, Eddie,’ he said. ‘Carry Stephen’s toys inside for him.’

  So Eddie leaned in to the back of the car and picked up two huge bags of toys, and followed his parents and brother into the house.

  I could feel tears come to my eyes. ‘This is all so sad,’ I whispered. ‘The boys are trying their best, but their parents aren’t helping at all. Can’t they see how lost and left out Eddie feels? Can’t they see that asking him to carry Stephen’s toys is really mean?’

  ‘I’d love to march right in there and tell those two grown-ups what a huge mistake they’re making,’ said Beth. ‘But they don’t seem like the kind of grownups who think kids’ opinions matter.’

  ‘You’re right,’ I said. ‘If we say something, I know it wouldn’t make any difference – or it might even make things worse for poor Eddie. How can they be so cruel?’

  ‘Poor Stephen looks really sick – and maybe his parents can’t cope with that. Maybe they’re so busy trying to make him better, they’ve pretty much forgotten their other son.’

  Beth was better than me at seeing both sides of the story – or maybe I just couldn’t get past the lost look on my little dad’s face.

  ‘But that’s so …’

  ‘I guess times were different then – or now – or wherever we are,’ she said. ‘In our real lives, my dad’s friend’s son got very sick a few years ago, and all his brothers and sisters went to the hospital every week for family therapy. I didn’t understand why at the time, but I totally get it now.’

  ‘Oh, I’m glad we live when we do,’ I said. ‘This is all so sad – and soon … Pablo. Oh, Beth, what are we going to do?’

  Beth put her arms around me. ‘I’m so sorry, Molly,’ she said. ‘This is too big for us. No offence, but your grandparents look totally scary. We can say what we like, but I don’t think there’s anything we can do to save Pablo. If we march in there and try to rescue him, they’ll probably call the police or something – and I so don’t like the idea of going to jail in 1975.’

  I started to cry. ‘Maybe you’re right,’ I said. ‘But there’s no way I’m letting my dad, Eddie, face this on his own. I’m not moving, and if he needs me, I’ll be right here.’

  ‘We’ll be here,’ said Beth, and the two of us sat down on the footpath to wait.

  * * *

  A while later, the front door opened again, and my granddad came out, carrying a large cardboard box with holes cut in the side. He put the box on the ground and used a key to open the back door.

  A second later Eddie appeared. His eyes were all red and puffy.

  ‘Daddy, y
ou forgot Pablo’s favourite toy mouse,’ he said, holding up a gross, dirty-looking thing.

  His dad lifted up a corner of the box and Eddie put the mouse inside. A little black nose appeared in the open corner. Eddie knelt down next to the box.

  ‘Be a good boy, Pablo,’ he said. ‘Eat up all your dinner every day, so you won’t get sick – and stay away from dogs – some of them can be really mean. I love you, Pablo. You’re the best cat in the whole world. One day, when I’m big, I’ll come and get you.’

  His dad sealed up the box, put it on the back seat and slammed the door.

  Tears were pouring down Eddie’s little cheeks – almost as many as were pouring down mine. Beth held my hand tightly, as I did my best to cry quietly.

  ‘Tell them he likes warm milk – and chicken,’ said Eddie. ‘Tell them that he’s afraid of balloons. Tell them that he loves it when you tickle under his chin. Tell them …’

  His dad patted his shoulder. ‘I know this isn’t easy, son,’ he said. ‘But you have to be a big, brave boy – for Stephen’s sake. I’m sure Pablo will find a very nice home, where they will love him as much as you do. Now why don’t you go inside and play with your brother?’ Eddie nodded. His dad stepped towards the car and then stopped. ‘One more thing,’ he said. ‘You must never tell Stephen the truth about why Pablo has to go.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Do you hear me? Never. Ever. That poor sick boy isn’t strong enough to know things like that. We’ll just tell him that Pablo was getting too hard for us to manage. That’s the best thing for everyone.’

  ‘That’s so messed up,’ I said

  ‘Agreed,’ said Beth. ‘No wonder your dad doesn’t like his brother. I know none of this is Stephen’s fault, but I still kind of hate him right now.’

  For a minute, Eddie stood in the driveway, watching as his dad drove away. I could hear his sobs as he used the sleeve of his ugly stripy jumper to wipe his tears.

  I took a step towards him, but Beth pulled me back.

  ‘I just want to give him a hug,’ I said.

  ‘I know,’ she said. ‘But if his mum comes out and sees two weirdly-dressed randomers hugging him–’

  Then Eddie started to run. He raced along the driveway and down the side of the house.

  ‘The treehouse,’ I whispered, as I jumped up and ran down the lane, with Beth following me.

  By the time we’d crawled through the gap in the hedge, and climbed up the ladder, Eddie was already sitting in the treehouse, hugging Pablo’s fluffy red cushion.

  ‘Oh, Eddie,’ I said, as I crawled over and hugged him. For a second he sat there stiffly, and it was like hugging a dummy from a shop window, but then he hugged me back, and cried until the front of my hoodie was all wet. Finally he pulled away from me.

  ‘Pablo’s … gone,’ he said, barely able to get the words out between his sobs. ‘Daddy took Pablo away and he never even got his new bed. Daddy said I’m not supposed to cry. He said it will make a man of me.’

  That was so cruel. Eddie wasn’t a man. He was only a very small, very sad little boy.

  ‘We’re so sorry,’ I said. ‘But we heard what your dad said – he thinks Pablo will find a lovely home.’

  ‘He already had a lovely home,’ said Eddie. ‘Until Stephen came back. I hate Stephen.’

  ‘I know you’re sad and angry now,’ I said. ‘But it’s not Stephen’s fault is it? He can’t help being sick, and maybe he feels—?’

  ‘I don’t care,’ said Eddie. ‘I hate, hate, hate him! I only love Pablo and I am never going to get another pet – ever, ever in my whole life.’

  The poor little boy was crying again, and I had no idea what to do. I wished my mum was there to give me some advice. My dad actually was there, but he was only seven, and not a whole lot of help.

  ‘Hey, Eddie,’ said Beth. ‘Maybe one day …’

  Before she could finish, there was a loud shout. ‘Eddie! Where on earth have you got to? Stephen is hungry and it’s time for lunch – come inside at once.’

  ‘It’s Mammy,’ said Eddie, like we didn’t already know and fear that voice.

  He put the red cushion carefully in the corner, and crawled towards the ladder.

  ‘Will you girls be here later?’ he asked.

  Beth and I looked at each other.

  ‘We’re not sure,’ said Beth gently. ‘We might have to go … on a journey.’

  ‘But we promise we’ll see you again someday,’ I said.

  ‘Someday sounds like a long time,’ said Eddie.

  Then his mother called again, and he scrambled down the ladder and was gone.

  * * *

  ‘Oh, Molly,’ said Beth, as we crawled through the hedge into the lane. ‘I think we’ve figured out what happened to Pablo, and why things went so wrong between Eddie and Stephen, but I’m sorry we didn’t manage to change anything – except now you’re really sad too.’

  ‘Thanks, Beth,’ I said. ‘I wish things could be different. I wish there was something we could do to help – but there isn’t. We’ve just been wasting our time.’

  Neither of us said anything as we walked down the lane and onto the road. We walked along until the houses disappeared, and all we could see were fields and trees. We walked for a long time. It was nice and peaceful, but I had no clue where we were going.

  Were we supposed to just go back home?

  ‘I guess we could—’ I was saying, when things suddenly started to happen very quickly.

  Beth stepped out onto the road without looking.

  There was a big screech of brakes as a car tried to stop.

  There was a weird crumpling sound as the front of the car hit Beth.

  Then my best friend lay on the road with her eyes closed, and a tiny trickle of blood on her cheek.

  Chapter Ten

  ‘Beth!’ I screamed as I ran and kneeled next to her. ‘Talk to me. Are you OK? Please say you’re OK. If anything happens to you—’

  Beth’s eyelids flickered, and I was never so happy to see her beautiful, pale blue eyes staring up at me.

  Then she turned her head, and I could see a small puddle of blood on the road.

  ‘Oh, Beth!’ I said, as I held her hand and started to cry.

  By now the driver of the car was standing next to us.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘Is she all right? She just stepped out in front of me. I tried to stop, but I couldn’t – there wasn’t enough time.’

  Beth started to get up and blood trickled down the back of her neck. ‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Absolutely fine. Good as new actually.’

  The woman took off her scarf and pressed it to the back of Beth’s head.

  ‘Hold still, dear,’ she said. ‘Until we see how bad this is.’

  I used my sleeve to wipe the blood from Beth’s cheek. It looked kind of scary on my white hoodie.

  ‘I guess I got a few little scratches,’ said Beth. ‘But I’m practically fine.’

  The woman made Beth sit on the footpath, and she sat down beside her. ‘I’m sure you’re fine,’ she said. ‘But I don’t like the look of this cut on your head. I’ve done a first-aid course and I know it’s better to be safe than sorry. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions, so we can be sure you’re not concussed or anything?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Beth. ‘I’m good at quizzes. I’ve got to level three hundred and sixty on my quiz app.’

  The woman gave her a funny look. I guess quiz apps weren’t a thing in 1975.

  ‘So tell me, dear,’ she said. ‘Who is the president?’

  ‘Easy peasy,’ said Beth.

  Beth’s good at all kinds of random stuff, but I guessed she was forgetting one important detail. I wanted to kick her, and remind her that we were in 1975, but I was afraid of injuring her even more.

  ‘Er, Beth …’ I said, but she interrupted me and said the president’s name.

  ‘Dear me,’ said the woman. ‘That’s not right, but maybe you’re too young to know the ri
ght answer.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Beth. ‘For a second there I forgot we’re back in the … I mean … I bet the president now is one of the Marys isn’t it? They were around for ages and ages. Is it Mary McAleese or, what was the other one called, Molly?’

  The woman laughed. ‘I see your sense of humour is intact anyway. The thought of a woman president! It would be nice, but I don’t see that happening any time soon.’

  I smiled. When I was little I thought the president had to be a woman.

  ‘Tell me instead, dear, what day it is?’ asked the woman.

  ‘Er….’ said Beth looking at me for inspiration. I shook my head. I knew that in the present it was Sunday, but that wasn’t much help.

  The woman was looking worried now. ‘What month is it then?’ she asked.

  Beth looked confused again. ‘I know it’s 1975,’ she said. ‘Is that any good?’

  The woman stood up. ‘You’re probably fine, but I can’t take any chances, so I will have to drive you home. Do you live around here?’

  ‘Er no,’ I said. ‘We live very far from here – and it’s really hard to get to.’

  ‘And where are your parents?’ She looked up and down the street as if they were going to magically appear.

  My dad wasn’t too far away, but since he was only seven, he wasn’t going to be much use.

  ‘Are you sisters?’ asked the woman then.

  Beth and I looked at each other. I wondered if families like ours existed in 1975.

  ‘We’re friends,’ I said.

  ‘Best friends,’ said Beth.

  The woman twisted her hands. ‘I wish there was a phone box nearby, so I could ring the police or an ambulance for you.’

  Once again, I wondered how people actually managed to live in the olden days. What did they do in emergencies? Were they supposed to travel with a carrier pigeon in their cars in case they had an accident and weren’t near a phone box?

  ‘There’s nothing for it,’ said the woman then. ‘I’ll have to bring you to the hospital.’