Friends Forever

 FRIENDS FOREVER

‘So, Rhoda, what do you think I should do about it?’

  Karen was sitting opposite her friend at the patio table, and was waiting anxiously for her reply.

  Rhoda, as usual, was comforting.

  ‘Well, I shouldn’t get too upset. Girls have these friendships much more than boys. She’s an only child as well, which makes her more susceptible.’

  Abby, Karen’s four-year-old daughter had claimed to have a “friend”, who she met in her playhouse. Karen’s husband, Rob, had examined it inside and out. He had put it together, for heaven’s sake; of course there couldn’t be anything wrong with it.   But Abby had been insistent, and she had never told lies before.

  ‘Always a first time.’ declared Rob. Which was hardly laying Karen’s fears at rest. Since he’d been promoted to Head of Department, he had been spending more and more time in the office. He was away this weekend, in fact, at some conference or other. All well and good, and of course she was behind him one hundred per cent in his career, but inevitably his home life, and especially their relationship, was suffering.

  For now, though, Karen was reassured. Thank goodness she could call on Rhoda anytime, and her friend would drop everything and hurry round, ready to chat and pick up the pieces. She was older than Karen by several years, but with her homely face and her dark hair piled into a bun, Karen felt she was more like the big sister she’d never had.

  She poured out more tea for them both, and they looked fondly across at Abby, as she played quietly. 

  Suddenly Karen grabbed Rhoda’s hand.

  ‘Look.’ she hissed. ‘She’s going into the playhouse now. Listen.’

  The two women held their breath but the noises coming from the playhouse were of Abby pottering around on her own. Suddenly her words became clearer. She was speaking to someone.

 ‘Oh, hello, Lucy. Have you brought your dolly to show me?”

  Silence. Then Abby spoke again.

  ‘She’s nice. What’s her name? Oh, that’s pretty.”

  Quietly, Karen and Rhoda walked over to the playhouse. Crouching low, they looked in. Abby was alone. Karen spoke through the window to her daughter:

  ‘Abby, where is Lucy?’

  ‘She went out of the back door, Mummy.’

  Karen looked to where Abby was pointing. The little door on the back of the playhouse was open, and moving slightly to and fro. But the house was pushed up against the fence. And no-one could have got through that, the fence was well made and solid.

  Rhoda spoke softly.

  ‘The child is just using her imagination, Karen. There is nothing sinister.’

  But with a trembling finger, Karen pointed inside the playhouse.

  ‘Is that so? Well, look, then. Lucy has been here. She’s left something behind.’

  Karen was pointing towards a doll with flaxen hair and Victorian print dress, sitting in a child’s chair. Cornflower blue eyes on a porcelain face stared at the newcomers; the rosebud mouth looked mulish. Then Abby’s childish treble said:

  ‘This is Rose, Mummy.’

  Karen looked at Rhoda with badly frightened eyes and whispered.

  ‘I’m sure Abby hasn’t got a doll like this, Rhoda.’

  Abby was brought out of the playhouse and was questioned minutely.

  ‘What does Lucy look like, Abby?’

  ‘She has long dark hair with an Alice band in, and she always wears a long flowered dress.’

  ‘Where does she live?’

  ‘Through the door and into the other side of the playhouse, Mummy.’

  ‘What does she say to you?’

  But Abby was starting to get upset, so Karen reluctantly had to leave the questions.

  ‘Though I intend to finish them tomorrow,’ she told Rhoda, fiercely.

  Rhoda left then, and when bedtime came, Karen was surprised and ashamed to find that she was more nervous than Abby of the dark corners of the house. Karen wanted to leave the lights blazing. She wanted to banish the shadowy shapes which lurked at the edges of her eyes, because she feared that if she turned too quickly, one of them would resolve itself into Lucy. She would return, Karen was sure, to look for her doll, Rose. 

  ‘Oh, God, Rob, I wish you were here,’ she whispered.

  However, the night passed without incident, and, when Rhoda arrived the next day, Karen re-iterated her intention of questioning Abby. She brought her into the playroom.

  ‘Well now, Abby. Are you going to tell Rhoda and me the truth? Why are you saying you have a friend called Lucy? Who gave you this doll? Who has been putting all these ideas into your head? Come on, Rhoda and I are waiting.’ 

  With a puzzled look around the room, little Abby spoke.

  ‘You gave me the idea, Mummy.’

  Karen was astounded. ‘Me!’

  ‘Yes. You’re always talking to some-one called Rhoda, but I can never see her. And neither can Daddy, because I heard him telling someone called Jo about it on the phone, saying it was driving him mad!’

  Karen’s head was reeling. To hear such a thing from the mouth of her daughter was shocking. Fearfully, she looked around her. Rhoda was gone, and she felt a terrific sense of loss. She had been her life-long friend, and she’d miss the comfort her presence brought.

  Karen looked at her daughter. Abby’s calm, steady gaze brought her solace. She deserves more than one parent, thought Karen. I’ll ring Rob, ask him to come home  early. We’ll have to spend more time together. And I shall want to know who Jo is!

  She stood up, filled with a new purpose, and went into the hallway to phone her husband.

  Thankfully, he reminded her that “Jo” was in fact “Joe”, their mutual friend, Joseph  Hunt. They laughed together over that, and both seemed to realise it was the first time they had laughed in ages.

  ‘Rob, I…I’m sorry. I know I’ve been - well, difficult, lately.’

  ‘When I get home this evening, we’ll talk. See if we can’t iron things out,’ said Rob, in a new, soft sort of voice. ‘You’ll soon see that all this stuff about ghosts in the Wendy house is just nonsense. You’ve just been getting yourself all wound up.’

  ‘Yes. I really think you could be right,’ said Karen, meekly.        

  Abby, left to herself in the garden, turned to greet her friend, Lucy, who was walking through the playhouse window. Lucy had come back for her doll.

                                            THE END