The Light Jar

by Lisa Thompson

  She stretched up to peek over my shoulder into the kitchen.

  “He might have written the solution down somewhere. Maybe on a scrap of paper or tucked into a book or something? Actually, that’s a really good idea, if I don’t say so myself! We should check all of the books! We should go through each one and give them a good shake for any hidden clues.”

  I had no intention of doing anything of the sort, but she wasn’t taking my huge hints that I wanted to be left alone.

  “So, how about it? I’m sure your parents won’t mind. That was William’s bedroom up there.”

  She pointed at the room above the kitchen where my mum had slept for just one night.

  I couldn’t let her in. She might work out that I was on my own.

  “Hold on,” I said. “The woods belong to your family, but the cottage belongs to William’s family now?”

  She nodded.

  I folded my arms. “So technically you’re trespassing by being here then. Aren’t you?”

  Her bottom lip jutted out. “Well, no. Not really. I was just seeing if you wanted to help with the riddle and the treasure.”

  I pretended to consider it, looking up to one side and tapping my chin with my finger. “Erm, no. But what I do want you to do is get off this property.”

  I gave her my best glare.

  “But … But it won’t take five minutes. And it’s to help me.”

  “But I don’t even know you. And anyway, surely you have servants to do this kind of work for you? Can’t Daddy hire a private investigator or something?”

  She looked astounded that I was talking to her in this way, and to be honest with you, so was I. I’d never been quite this rude to someone before, but I needed to get rid of her. I’d promised Mum that I’d lie low. She pulled her hat tightly over her ears and picked up the shovel.

  “Fine. Forget it. Forget I ever asked. Enjoy your holiday, Nate.”

  She took a couple of steps backward, glaring at me, and then turned away, dragging the shovel along the concrete path as she went.

  “You handled that well,” said Sam, walking in from the living room. I frowned at him.

  “What are you doing here? I can’t believe I was so stupid talking to her in the first place. If … If it gets back to anyone that we are here … What was I thinking?”

  I paced up and down the kitchen as Sam watched me.

  “I even told her my name! I’m an idiot, Sam. An absolute idiot!”

  Sam was glowing so brightly that he was making my eyes water. “I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about there. She’s just a bit of a lost soul. It must be lonely living in that big house with no one for miles around.”

  I felt a bit guilty then. Perhaps I should have told Kitty about Mum being missing; she could have gotten her dad, James, to help find her. But I’d told Mum that I wouldn’t give away that we were here. If Gary found out where we were, then … then it’d be bad. Really, really bad.

  “What are you going to do about your mum?” asked Sam, as if he could read my thoughts. “She might need your help. Something might have happened to her, Nate.”

  I didn’t want to hear that.

  “No, it hasn’t. I’ve just got to give her more time, that’s all. She’ll be back; I know it. She’s probably just sorting out a few things. Maybe she’s looking for somewhere better than this dump. She knows how much I don’t want to stay here.”

  Sam watched as I paced up and down.

  “I can’t break my promise, Sam. Not after everything she’s been through.”

  I went back into the living room and carefully put another log on the fire. The burn on my thumb was throbbing again. Sam stood behind me.

  “You can’t just hope that she’s going to turn up, you know.”

  “Look, go away, would you? No one asked you to come back. In fact, what are you even doing here?”

  Sam’s bright yellow glow faded, and he looked a bit tearful.

  “But it was you that wanted me here, Nate. That’s why I came back. You wanted me. I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t. I couldn’t be here.”

  I rubbed at my face. None of this was making any sense. Mum’s disappearance, Sam coming back, meeting Kitty the crazy treasure hunter. It was all too much. I lay down on the patchwork quilt on the sofa and curled up, watching the flames slowly spread along the log.

  “This is all Grandma’s fault. All of it,” I said quietly. “Me and Mum being here in the first place, it’s her fault.”

  Sam came over and sat on the floor beside me, leaning against the sofa as he hugged his knees.

  “Why?” he asked. “Why is all of this your grandma’s fault?”

  I looked at Sam, the fire reflected in his eyes, and I told him.

  We had left Gary once before, over a year ago now.

  I hadn’t realized it, but Mum had been planning it for a while. She’d packed some bags while I was at school and hidden them in the trunk of her car. This was back when she still had a car, before Gary sold it.

  I remember that Mum kept staring at the clock on the living room wall. Gary went to play squash every Thursday evening, but on this particular Thursday he didn’t seem to be in any rush to go. I was trying to catch her eye to get her to stop looking at the time, as I was worried Gary would notice, and sometimes when he notices things he doesn’t like, the air goes all prickly. It’s like there is an electrical current fizzing around us. On this Thursday, Gary was still sitting in the armchair watching TV at six thirty, which was usually when he got ready.

  “Are you going to play squash tonight, Gary?” I asked.

  He looked up and blinked a few times, as if he was trying to remember where I’d come from.

  “I—I thought you played squash on Thursdays?” I said.

  Gary frowned and I instantly regretted what I’d said. I had never shown an interest in squash before. Why was I starting now? But I was just trying to jog his memory that he was supposed to be getting changed.

  He continued to stare at me, and then he got out of the armchair and headed upstairs. I could hear him moving around in the bedroom, opening drawers and then the wardrobe, and then he came back down wearing his white shorts and T-shirt.

  He put his racket bag over his shoulder, stared at me again, and left without a word. It was clearly one of his silent days, when he didn’t actually speak to either of us. But that was just fine, because now he was out of the house and Mum relaxed a little.

  We got to Grandma’s at eight o’clock. Granddad was poorly and I knew that Grandma had phoned a number of times, asking for Mum’s help. I’d heard Mum say she wasn’t able to get there that day or that she was too busy, but it sounded to me like she was making excuses. She wasn’t very busy as far as I could tell. In fact, she rarely left the house at all any more.

  When Grandma answered the door, Mum went to give her a hug, but Grandma just folded her arms.

  “Oh, so now you show up. Is it too much to ask for my own daughter’s help?”

  Mum’s mouth hung open, but Grandma just turned and went inside. I didn’t like it. I had never seen Grandma angry before. We both had a suitcase each, and we struggled over the high step and put them side by side in the hall. A strong smell of disinfectant made my eyes water, and I could hear a quiet humming coming from upstairs.

  “I’m sorry, Mum. Okay? I’m here now. I just couldn’t get away … You know how Gary can be … How’s Dad?” said Mum, following Grandma toward the kitchen.

  Grandma fell into a kitchen chair. Her arms dangled down by her sides as if she didn’t even have enough energy to hold them folded in her lap. Her gray sweater with the sequined heart on the front had stains down it, and her hair was all over the place. She looked like she hadn’t slept properly in weeks.

  “I’ve been doing this practically single-handed, Fiona. Do you know how hard it is? Being a caretaker? Have you any idea? I’ve needed you and I’ve needed your help. Where have you been?”

  “I’m sorry, Mum. Bu
t … things haven’t been easy … at home …”

  This seemed to make Grandma even more angry.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry you’ve had a rough time, Fiona. Have you any idea how it’s been for me? Nursing your father all these weeks? And now you turn up expecting to be welcomed with open arms? Well, I’m not doing it!”

  I’d never seen Grandma like this. Her eyes were wide and she looked a bit scary. Mum was sitting hunched over the kitchen table. She seemed to be folding up into herself. I waited for her to say something, but she just hung her head and shook it slightly.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I’ve not been here, but it’s … Things have been difficult … at home … with … with Gary. He’s not … He’s not the man I thought he was. It’s not the life I imagined, Mum.”

  She looked up. Her face was all crumpled and I knew she was close to tears, but Grandma didn’t seem to care.

  “Not the life you imagined?” she said, and she even gave a little chuckle, but it was brittle and there was no warmth behind it. “Not the life you imagined? Don’t make me laugh … Everyone has relationship problems, Fiona. It doesn’t mean you forget your blood and bones. Do you think I imagined I’d be living like this? Nursing your father?”

  She stood up abruptly, the chair scraping noisily behind her, but her face softened when she saw me by the door. I think she’d forgotten I was there.

  “Nate, be a good boy and pop upstairs and say hello to Granddad, would you? He’d love to see you. Your mum and I are going to have a little chat.”

  She turned to fill the kettle, and I put a hand on Mum’s shoulder. She turned and looked up at me, her face pinched and worried. I frowned. What is going on?

  Mum patted my hand and mouthed, It’s okay.

  Going up to see Granddad was possibly the last thing in the whole wide world that I wanted to do. I did think about just staying in the hallway and listening to what was being said in the kitchen, but if Grandma had found me, in the mood she was in, she’d have gone mad. Mum got up and closed the kitchen door behind me as the kettle rumbled away.

  The stairs to Grandma and Granddad’s bedroom were heavily carpeted, and my walk to the top was soundless. The humming noise I’d heard when we’d first arrived was getting louder, and when I looked through the crack in the bedroom door I saw the corner of a hospital bed that had been squeezed in beside their wardrobe. A pink bedspread was folded across Granddad’s feet as if Grandma had been trying to make it look like part of the furniture. It had been raised at one end, and Granddad was lying back on some pillows, his chest slowly rising, up and down. His index finger picked at the edge of his thumb, so I knew he was awake. I stepped into the room, and he opened his eyes.

  “Nathaniel! How lovely to see you. Come over here and take a seat.”

  He patted at the mattress, and I perched on the edge as far away from him as I could. I wasn’t being rude; I just didn’t want to get any closer.

  “How have you been? All okay at school? How’s the cricket coming along?”

  Granddad loved cricket. A few summers ago, before he became ill, he’d taught me how to bowl in their back garden.

  “It’s going well, Granddad. It’s all good.”

  I actually hadn’t touched a cricket ball since, but I didn’t want to disappoint him.

  He closed his eyes and patted his hand on the bed. I wasn’t sure if he wanted me to move closer, but I stayed where I was.

  “And how’s that spin bowl of yours coming along?” A wide smile spread across his face. “Do you remember that cracker you did? I tried to get my bat on it, but whoosh … it just flew off, into the bushes. Couldn’t get anywhere near it!”

  He laughed and I wondered if he was replaying everything on the back of his eyelids, like a little movie.

  “Never did find that ball, you know. Never found it!” He laughed again. “We gave up after that and went inside, and Grandma made you your first knickerbocker glory. Do you remember? Your eyes were as big as saucers!”

  I remembered that bit very well. It was in a tall, frosted glass with swirls and swirls of strawberry sauce and a fan-shaped wafer poking out of the top. I had to kneel on the kitchen chair and use a special long spoon to eat it. After that, she started making them for me every time we visited. That weekend playing cricket with Granddad was beginning to come back to me a bit more now. Mum and Dad were still together back then, and they’d gone to a wedding and I’d stayed with Grandma and Granddad right up until Sunday evening. They’d let me stay up late and watch a movie with them, and I ate two bowls of popcorn even though I’d already brushed my teeth for bed. I was about to ask Granddad if he could remember the movie we’d watched when Mum appeared in the doorway.

  “Nate? Can you go downstairs while I just say hello to Granddad? We’ll be going home in a minute.”

  I couldn’t believe it. Home? We’d only just arrived. I wanted to stay here, with Grandma and Granddad, where the air didn’t prickle. Mum’s eyes were red and she wouldn’t look directly at me.

  “But,” I said as I joined her in the doorway. “But I thought we were staying? We’ve got our bags and things.”

  Mum looked toward Granddad and shook her head sharply, then pushed past me into the bedroom.

  “Hello, Dad,” she said, and she sat beside him. He reached up and stroked her hair.

  “Hello, darling,” he said.

  I went silently back downstairs. I could hear Grandma moving about in the kitchen, but I didn’t want to see her. The heavy suitcases that we’d dragged into the hallway had been moved. Now they were right beside the door.

  Sam hadn’t said a word while I told him about Grandma not letting us stay. He was still sitting on the floor, hugging his knees.

  “That must have hurt big-time,” he said.

  I shrugged. I didn’t want to cry, so I didn’t say anything.

  “It really hurts, doesn’t it? Not being wanted. Not being able to stay. Feeling like you have nowhere to go.”

  He was looking at me sadly. I wasn’t sure what he was getting at, but it felt like it had something to do with when he faded away when I was younger.

  His face suddenly brightened and his glow returned.

  “But hey. Here we are! You’re here, and I’m here, and all is good. The others are going to be so jealous when I tell them.”

  “Others?” I asked, sitting back upright. “What do you mean, the others? Do you mean there are more? There are more like you?”

  Sam nodded. “Yes. Their friends grew up too. Just like you did. And when that happens … When we’re not needed any longer, we just kind of … drift until we’re needed. It’s so boring.”

  “Drift? What do you mean, drift? What, like … like ghosts?”

  I looked around the room, terrified that at any moment something was going to appear.

  Sam frowned. “No, not ghosts exactly …”

  “Wh-What do you mean, not exactly? What are you, Sam?”

  I knew I was shouting, but I couldn’t help it. My legs began to shake, so I held onto my knees.

  Sam seemed to think about it for a moment, and then his face broke into his wide grin.

  “We’re like … helpers. We turn up when you’re little. When you have open minds and don’t judge everything you can see. We keep you company for a bit and set you off on your way … and then you just get on with the rest of your lives. That’s usually how it works. We don’t really come back, unless … Well, unless you’ve gotten yourself into a bit of a mess.”

  I tried to process what he was saying.

  “So … you’re like … guardian angels?”

  Sam frowned as he thought about it, and then his yellow glow became stronger and stronger, until it was illuminating the whole room.

  “Whoa … What’s happening? What’s happening to you?!” I said as I pressed myself back into the chair.

  “I’ll show you,” said Sam, his color brightening so much I had to shield my eyes with my hand. He waved at the wall and
everything began to dissolve.

  My eyes stretched wide as the wall of the cottage evaporated and was replaced with what looked like a shimmering screen, a wavy space where the wall once was, with images beginning to form on it. I felt my jaw dangle open as I stared.

  “You’re not gonna faint or anything, are you?” asked Sam, still glowing.

  I shook my head as I gawked at the image that was developing right in front of my eyes. The colors and shapes were merging together, finding their correct places, until the picture became something I could understand.

  It was a room. A bedroom. There was a young girl laying down with her head on her arm. It looked like she was crying. Behind her was another girl, but this one wasn’t like the girl on the bed. This girl had a glow about her, like Sam, but her color was purple.

  “C-Can they see us?” I whispered.

  Sam sat down next to me. “Nope. Can’t see a thing.”

  A red-and-white-striped box of popcorn had appeared in his hand as if he was watching a movie. He pointed it toward me. I shook my head.

  “The girl on the bed is Amy, and that’s Meena behind her. She’s one of the best make-believes we have. The way she handled this situation is just … Well, see for yourself …”

  He stuffed a handful of popcorn in his mouth and munched loudly. The girl on the bed, Amy, lifted her head slightly.

  “They … They just don’t understand. I hate it. And I hate them.”

  I turned to Sam. “What is it? Who does she hate?”

  But Sam just put his fingers to his lips and nodded toward the image. “Shhhh. Just watch.”

  The imaginary friend glowed brightly as she sat down beside Amy on the bed.

  “You need to tell them why you didn’t turn up to the play, Amy. Then they’ll understand. You can’t expect them to understand if they don’t know the full picture.”

  Amy rubbed her nose, her shoulders shaking.

  “They said I was a loser. They said … They said I had let them down and they’d never forgive me …”