The Imaginary (16 page)

‘
Yes, you're him. So, tell me, Rudger, is it true?' The dog sounded nervous.

At last
, Rudger thought,
someone who believes me
.

‘Yes, it's all true,' he said.

‘Oh, goodness,' the dog said, wagging its tail. ‘And…and…how is she, Rudger?'

‘You remember her?'

‘Of course I do. Of course!'

‘Only, no one else round here seems to remember her at all. They act as if they'd never met her, but she was here just this morning.'

‘I don't mean to be rude, Rudger, but I don't think she
was
here. I'd've seen her. She's not been in here for years.'

‘No, you're wrong. Of course she was. She's the one who showed me round.'

‘I don't understand.'

‘But now Mr Bunting's eaten her, and no one remembers her, no one but—'

The dog barked, an angry, scared bark.

‘What? What?! What do you mean, she's been eaten? Mr Bunting?
The
Mr Bunting?'

‘That's what I've been telling everyone.'

‘How's that possible? They always said he ate 'maginaries. No one ever mentioned him eating
real
people.'

‘But…but Emily wasn't real.'

‘Who's Emily?'

Rudger
opened his mouth and said nothing. He closed it again. There was
definitely
something wrong with this conversation. He had the sudden feeling there were two conversations going on, side by side.

‘Who are you talking about?' he asked the dog.

‘Elizabeth Downbeat,' the dog replied, knocking a book off the shelf behind him with a wag of his tail. ‘My Lizzie.'

‘Oh,' said Rudger. ‘Who's she?'

‘She was my first friend. She imagined me. Long time ago now. Long ago.'

‘But what's this got to do with me?' Rudger asked.

‘I heard your friend was my one's daughter.'

‘No, there must be some mistake. My…friend…is called Amanda. Amanda Shuffleup.'

‘Yes,
your
Amanda is
my
Lizzie's daughter.'

Rudger scratched the dog behind the ear while he took this in.

‘All I want to know,' the dog said, ‘is…well, is she happy? Did she grow up to be happy?'

‘I think so,' Rudger said. ‘She's busy with her work at the computer a lot of the time, but she still takes us to the park and swimming, and while the computer's thinking, she makes wonderful cakes. You should smell them! And she laughs at all the things Amanda does, even the stupid things. I see her smile sometimes, when Amanda's not looking. And then when we're supposed to be asleep I sometimes hear her laughing on the
telephone,
or at the telly. I've not seen many grownups, but I think she's a happy one. I mean she does get a bit annoyed with Amanda
sometimes
. But I don't think she's unhappy. Well, not until—'

‘Did she…?' said the dog, interrupting Rudger before he could finish the sentence he was pleased to not have to finish.

‘What?'

‘Did she ever…mention…me?'

‘Um…'

‘Fridge.'

‘Pardon?'

‘My name's Fridge. In case that helps. I mean she probably didn't say, “Oh, I wish that big old imaginary dog of mine was here right now,” but you might've heard her say, “I miss Fridge”, you know, just sometimes. And you wouldn't have known what it meant, would you?'

The dog had such big pleading eyes that Rudger didn't want to let him down. He racked his brains to try to remember what Amanda's mum
had
said. It was hard, partly because she'd said a lot of things, but partly also because thinking about her made him think of Amanda and of the things he'd love to hear
her
say.

Then he thought of something. ‘I don't know if it means anything,' he said, ‘but she named a cupboard after you, in her kitchen. The cold one where she keeps the milk.'

‘
Oh!' said Fridge, the dog.

This seemed to make him happy.

The next morning Rudger stood in front of the notice board and looked at the different faces that were on offer. There were two dozen of them, staring out from their photographs. How should he choose? Which one would be the key to take him home? Which kid would lead Rudger to the hospital, would help him find Amanda? How would it work?

Emily had said, cryptically, ‘You just know.'

Fridge was curled up asleep there, as usual, waiting. As Rudger looked at the pictures he heard the old dog yawn.

‘Oh, Rudger,' he said. ‘Is it morning already?'

‘Yep,' said Rudger, a little annoyed at being interrupted in his important task, but also happy to have someone to talk to. ‘How do you do this?'

‘Choose?' Fridge said.

‘Yeah.'

‘Don't think too hard.'

Rudger tried not to think.

‘Why haven't
you
picked one?' he asked. ‘You've been here for ages, Emily said, trying to pick.'

‘I'm old, Rudger,' said Fridge, with another yawn. ‘I've picked lots. Now I'm just waiting for my last job. One more, then I'll be ready to Fade.'

‘
Really?'

‘Yes. You get tired. I'm wispy round the edges already. I'm thin, you see.'

‘I don't mean to be rude, but you're always asleep.'

‘I told you, tired.'

‘But how will you pick one of these…' Rudger gestured at the pictures ‘…if you're asleep?'

The dog laughed, a woofish warm chuckle, and nodded his head.

‘I'll know,' he said. ‘I'll know when it's there.'

He yawned tremendously and walked in a circle several times before lying down.

‘Now, if you'll excuse me,' he said. ‘You're a good boy, Rudger. I like you.'

And then the dog was asleep again, snuffling snores from under its glistening black nose.

Rudger turned back to the notice board.

As he looked the photographs shifted about in front of one another. They didn't stay still. One would push its way forward, come into better focus, as if it really wanted to be picked, then it would drift back, be replaced by a different photo. It was like watching faces floating on the surface of a sea.

But to Rudger's eyes the children all looked the same: not Amanda.

None of them looked like the next step in his plan.

This was hopeless.

He
reached up to grab the nearest picture, to just plump for one of them, any one, when something suddenly, finally, caught his eye.

That girl. That one there. Didn't he know her from somewhere?

That morning Julia Radiche opened her wardrobe door and stared.

‘Who are you and what are you doing in my wardrobe?' she said quite calmly, but pulling her dressing gown tight over her pyjamas.

The girl she was looking at, who was about her own height but who had long red hair, curling in ringlets with a bow at the top and freckles on her cheeks, held out her hand and said, ‘Hi, I'm Rudger.'

Julia looked at her and snorted.

‘Roger?' she said. ‘I don't think so. You look like a Veronica to me.'

‘Veronica?'

The girl in the wardrobe shook her head and sort of half-smiled, as if Julia were making a joke, even though Julia didn't think she'd made a joke.

‘
No, I'm Rudger,' the girl repeated. ‘I'm Amanda's friend.'

‘Amanda's friend?' Julia asked, mulling the words over. ‘Amanda?'

‘Yes, your friend Amanda.'

Julia stared into the distance for a moment before saying, ‘Shuffleup?'

‘Yes.'

‘Dizzy Shuffleup?'

‘No,
Amanda
Shuffleup.'

‘You're
her
friend?'

‘Yes, but I have met you before. She brought me to school once.'

Julia bit her lip and tilted her head on one side, just the way Amanda did when she was thinking about something. But when Julia did it, it didn't have the same charm. It looked as though she'd practised it in front of a mirror because she thought that was how people looked when they were thinking and she didn't want to be left out.

‘Amanda had an
imaginary
friend called
Roger
,' she said eventually. ‘She talked about him a few times. But I never—' She stopped and corrected herself. ‘Oh, hang on. You're right. She
did
pretend he was there once. Made us all shake hands with him. It was dead funny, we had to try not to laugh. She's weird, that one. Everyone says so.'

The girl in the wardrobe shook her hair out and stomped her foot angrily.

‘She's not
weird
,' she snapped. ‘Amanda's brilliant, and it's
Rudger
, not
Roger
. And, I'll have you know, you jabbed me in the tummy when you tried to shake my hand.'

‘
No, that can't be right,' Julia said. ‘This Roger of hers was a boy.'

‘I
am
a boy!'

Julia coughed the sort of cough you cough when someone's made a silly mistake that it would be rude to point out. She looked the girl up and down, using her eyes like hands to indicate just where the mistake she wasn't going to point out had occurred.

The red-haired girl in the wardrobe looked down at herself, lifted the frills of her skirt, ran a finger through her long curly hair, picked a foot up to look at her pink glittery trainer.

‘I'm a
girl
?' she said, staring at Julia. She sounded shocked, surprised, stunned.

‘Duh!' said Julia, as if the fact were obvious, which it clearly was.

‘But I'm…'

‘Veronica,' Julia finished for her. ‘And you're
my
new friend.'