by Judi Curtin
‘And did Jeanie wake up? I asked.
He shook his head. ‘I watched as they put the stretcher into the ambulance, but she remained perfectly still. I wanted to travel with her, but the ambulance men wouldn’t let me. They told me to “run away home”. So that’s what I did – and … I never saw my lovely friend again.’
‘And what did your parents say when you got home?’ I asked.
‘Well, here’s the thing,’ said Graham. ‘I never told my parents what happened.’
‘You never …?’ said Beth. ‘But …’
‘You have no idea how bad I felt that day. Jeanie was my best friend, and she had fallen because of me. If I hadn’t teased her about being a coward, she never would have climbed the tree. She never would have …’ Graham put his head in his hands. ‘The whole thing was all my fault. I was so ashamed.’
‘But that’s crazy, Graham,’ said Beth. ‘You can’t blame yourself! Kids tease each other all the time.’
‘It’s what kids do,’ I agreed. ‘How could you have known that Jeanie was going to fall? How could you—?’
Now Graham looked up at us, and his huge, sad brown eyes made me want to cry. ‘I was older than her,’ he said softly. ‘I should have known better. I should have looked out for her – but I didn’t. Now if you two girls don’t mind, I think I need to be on my own now.’
Beth and I so didn’t want to leave him, but he ignored all of our arguments.
‘I’ve never told that story to a single soul,’ he said. ‘And maybe talking helps in the long run, but I confess that right now I don’t feel entirely wonderful, so if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to lie down for a while.’
‘Can we call again tomorrow?’ asked Beth as he walked us to the door.
‘Well, I’m not really…..’
‘If you don’t promise that we can visit tomorrow, then we’re not leaving you,’ I said. I don’t usually talk to adults like that, but Graham wasn’t like all the other adults – which might be why Beth and I loved him so much.
‘OK, I give in,’ said Graham, giving the tiniest flicker of a smile. ‘You can visit me tomorrow – and in the meantime, don’t worry about me – I’m going to tuck myself up in bed with a good book – a cure for most problems.’
So we both hugged him, and then he closed the door behind us.
* * *
Beth spoke first. ‘That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard,’ she said. ‘Imagine the poor boy, feeling guilty for all those years?’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘It’s terrible, but we have to find out what happened next. We know Jeanie didn’t die that day – because that only happened this year. She lived for years and years after the accident. She did sculptures good enough to be displayed in parks. She got to have friends and a dog and everything. So how come Graham never saw her again?’
‘That’s still the mystery,’ said Beth. ‘And I totally hate mysteries.’
‘We have to hear the rest of the story,’ I said. ‘We just have to.’
Chapter Eight
‘You two don’t give up easily,’ said Graham the next day. ‘I think you might have been terriers in your last life.’
‘Thanks a lot,’ I said. ‘I always dreamed of being compared to a small, hairy creature with pointy teeth.’
‘Anyway,’ said Beth. ‘Enough with the small talk. You know we want to hear the rest of the story, Graham.’
‘We’re not being nosy,’ I added. (Which was only half true.) ‘But it’s not healthy having all this bad stuff locked up in your head. If you don’t talk about it, you’ll never get over it.’
‘But …’ began Graham.
‘Trust us,’ I said. ‘You were telling us how poor Jeanie had just gone off in the ambulance, and you were being all tough and brave.’
‘I didn’t feel very brave,’ said Graham. ‘I felt scared and sad and alone.’
‘You’re not alone now,’ said Beth, patting his hand.
‘So I didn’t sleep a wink that night,’ he said. ‘And next morning I was too afraid to call over to Orchard House, so I went to the phone box on the main street, and telephoned. The housekeeper answered and told me that Jeanie’s parents were at the hospital with her. When she told me that Jeanie was awake, and talking, I thought I was going to die from happiness. Then I asked if it would be alright to visit Jeanie in the hospital, and the housekeeper went quiet. In the end she said she thought that was a very bad idea, and that I should stay away from the family for a while.’
‘So you just gave up?’ said Beth. ‘That doesn’t sound like you.’
He smiled. ‘No, it’s not like me – and that’s not what I did. I went home and wrote a very long letter to Jeanie, and posted it to the hospital.’
‘And did she reply?’ I asked, afraid I already knew the answer to my question.
‘No,’ said Graham. ‘Days and days passed, but she didn’t reply. So I wrote again, and then I wrote to her home, but still nothing. I had no idea where she was – or how she was.’
‘That’s awful,’ I said.
‘It was indeed awful,’ said Graham. ‘I telephoned her house a number of times, but as soon as the housekeeper heard my voice, she hung up.’
‘But this isn’t a huge big city,’ said Beth. ‘Everyone knows everyone else around here. Surely someone could have told you what was going on?’
He shook his head. ‘Jeanie’s family lived here, but they were never part of the community. Mostly they kept themselves hidden behind the high walls of their house. They didn’t shop here or socialise here. My dad had stopped working for them by then, so no one really knew them at all, except for me.’
‘So what happened next?’ asked Beth.
‘It was nearly time for Jeanie to go back to boarding school, and if that happened, I knew there would be no opportunity to see her again until Christmas. I simply couldn’t let that happen. I missed her so much, it was like a physical pain, and …’
‘And what?’ I asked, dying for him to continue.
‘And I knew I had to be brave,’ said Graham. ‘I knew I had to go to Orchard House.’
‘And when you got there?’ prompted Beth.
‘I think it’s time for tea,’ said Graham.
* * *
Fifteen minutes later we were sipping yet another cup of blooming tea – this time flavoured with vanilla and lemon, like the nicest ice-cream you could ever dream of.
‘So I went up the drive,’ said Graham. ‘And the sound of my bicycle wheels seemed terribly loud on the thick gravel.’
Graham didn’t even need us to prompt him – it was like he couldn’t stop talking, now that he’d finally got going.
‘I didn’t dare go to the front door, so I went around the back where the delivery boys usually called. I knocked on the door and the sound echoed through the house, announcing my arrival. I hoped the housekeeper would answer, but then I heard high heels coming towards the front door, and I knew it had to be Jeanie’s mother – Jeanie had told me that she dressed every day as if she were going out to a fancy party, even if she didn’t plan to set a foot outside the house. Part of me wanted to race down the drive and never come back, and only the thought of seeing Jeanie made me stay there. So Jeanie’s mother opened the door and …’
‘And what?’ I asked.
Graham looked scared, like he was thirteen again, and standing outside Orchard House. For a second, I could almost see the young boy he used to be. He took a deep breath, and continued.
‘And Jeanie’s mother looked at me as if I were a piece of dirt that the cat had dragged in. “You!” she said. “How dare you show your face around here? Jeanie could have been killed in that fall – and it’s all your fault.” And now the urge to run was almost overwhelming, but still I stayed.’
‘That was brave of you,’ said Beth.
Graham half-smiled. ‘Brave or stupid, I’m not sure which. Anyway, I found my voice, and asked if I could see Jeanie. And her mother gave me a cruel, cold look. “Yo
u won’t be seeing her again,” she said. “Jeanie leaves hospital in the morning – and she will be going straight to school.” But I knew that couldn’t be right. Jeanie’s school wasn’t due to open until the following week – I knew the date – it had been imprinted in my mind since the beginning of the summer.’
‘So Jeanie’s mother lied to you?’ I said. ‘That wasn’t very nice.’
He shook his head, sadly. ‘She wasn’t nice, but she wasn’t lying either.’
‘I don’t get it,’ said Beth.
‘I didn’t get it either,’ said Graham. ‘So I asked her why the date had changed – and then Jeanie’s mother started to cry. And I was so embarrassed, I didn’t know where to look, or what to say. And then she started to shout at me and even though it was so many years ago, I can still recall her exact words. “Jeanie will not be returning to her old school,” she said. “Everything is different now. She will be attending a special school. Don’t you understand, you stupid boy? Jeanie is blind. She is going to spend the rest of her life in an institution. Now go away, or I will have my husband call the police.”’
‘OMG!’ I said. ‘Jeanie went blind. The poor girl – and poor you. It must have been an awful shock to hear that about your lovely friend.’
Graham nodded. ‘My lovely friend lost her sight because of me.’
‘It was an accident,’ I said. ‘It so wasn’t your fault.’
‘You can’t blame yourself,’ said Beth. ‘And anyway, Jeanie’s mother was crazy. I get that she was upset and everything, but why did she say Jeanie couldn’t have friends? Why did she say she had to live in a home for the rest of her life? A girl I used to know had a visually-impaired brother, and he had an amazing life. He goes skiing and jogging and last I heard he was planning to climb Mount Everest.’
‘That’s the way things should be,’ said Graham. ‘But it was very different back then. Any kind of a disability was almost an embarrassment – and all kinds of wonderful people who were deemed “not quite perfect” were banished from the rest of society.’
‘That’s so sad,’ I said. ‘And that was the end of you and Jeanie?’
‘Pretty much,’ said Graham. ‘I sent many, many letters to Jeanie over the next few months. I knew she couldn’t read them, but I hoped someone would read them to her.’
‘Well, her evil mother wasn’t going to do it, that’s for sure,’ I said. ‘But did anyone else help you? Did you ever get a reply to your letters?’
‘Not a single word. And at Christmas, when I knew she’d be home for holidays, I braved Orchard House again, but this time I met Jeanie’s dad. He told me that Jeanie wanted nothing to do with me, that she was ashamed of ever spending time with me – and then he chased me away with one of Jeanie’s old hockey sticks.’
‘He sounds like the wicked monster from a fairytale,’ I said.
Except fairytales are supposed to have happy endings.
‘Did you believe what he said about Jeanie being ashamed of your friendship?’ asked Beth.
‘I did at the time,’ said Graham. ‘You young girls are sophisticated and worldly wise, but I was a very innocent young man. I didn’t think to question what he said.’
‘And now?’ I asked.
‘Well now I’m not so sure any more – and I never had the chance to find out. A few months later Orchard House was sold and the family moved away. There was no Google or Facebook back then, and I had no way of finding out where they went.’
‘I’m so sorry, Graham,’ said Beth.
‘I’ve thought about Jeanie a lot in recent years,’ said Graham. ‘I thought about trying to find her – but the guilt and the shame always held me back … but still – I always hoped that fate would bring us together – I always hoped that one day Jeanie and I would meet again – but … well that’s not going to happen now is it? That ship has sailed without me.’
Beth hugged him. ‘Oh, Graham,’ she said. ‘You poor thing. I wish we could do something to help.’
He gave a small, sad smile. ‘You listened,’ he said.
* * *
‘That’s the saddest story I’ve ever heard,’ I said as Beth and I walked home. ‘I wish there was something we could do to help Graham.’
‘There is one thing …’
‘What’s that?’
‘We could … you know … go to Rico’s and go back to when Graham and Jeanie were friends and …’
I stopped walking. ‘You think time-travelling’s the answer to everything, Beth! We can’t make it so that Graham doesn’t suggest climbing the tree. We can’t stop Jeanie from falling. We can’t change—’
‘Face it, Molly. We have no idea what we can and can’t do when we go back to the past. I know I couldn’t save my mum …’
‘And I’m so sorry about that,’ I said hugging her.
She hugged me back and then pulled away. ‘But we can’t just do nothing. You saw how sad and guilty Graham feels. We’re his friends and we have to try and help him.’
I didn’t argue – mostly because I knew she was right.
‘So we’ve got a plan?’
She grinned. ‘Sure we’ve got a plan. It might be a plan that’s doomed to fail, but I guess that’s got to be better than no plan at all.’
Chapter Nine
After school the next day, Beth pushed open the door of Rico’s shop, and I followed her inside. Once again, Rico was standing there polishing one of his many tiny glass bottles. I wondered if glass wears away if you polish it for long enough. Rico looked up and didn’t seem surprised to see us; that guy seriously freaks me out. Only the thought of Graham’s sad face kept me from racing back outside to the real world.
‘Er … hi,’ said Beth. ‘Do you mind if my friend and I …?’
Rico put down his polishing cloth and smiled the kind of smile that doesn’t make you feel any better than you did before.
‘You know the way,’ he said. ‘See you soon!’
Beth and I slipped past him, and through the black curtain. Just like the last time, it was warm and dark and creepy.
‘Concentrate on where we need to be, Molly,’ whispered Beth. ‘Keep thinking about Graham and Winnie and how we can help them.’
I tried to do what she said, but the weird cinnamon smell kept distracting me. I held tightly to Beth’s hand and then we tumbled forwards.
‘OMG,’ said Beth as she opened her eyes. ‘Good old Rico.’
I grabbed Beth’s arm and pulled her off the road, as a weird, noisy car beeped at us.
‘Either Rico’s worked his magic or everyone around here’s heading for an antique car show,’ I said.
Beth giggled, and I was glad that her sense of humour is good at time-travelling – I love lots of things about my best friend, including the fact that she laughs at my jokes even when they’re pretty lame.
‘Let’s not waste time,’ said Beth. ‘We need to find out if we’re when we need to be.’
‘Agreed,’ I said. ‘Let’s ask that woman who looks like she’s wearing a lampshade on her head instead of a hat!’
We crossed the road again, and went up to the woman.
‘Er, hi,’ said Beth. ‘Do you mind if we ask you a question?’
‘Of course not,’ said the woman, smiling. ‘How can I help you? Are you lost?’
We probably were lost, but that wasn’t our biggest problem.
‘Could you tell us what year it is, please?’ I asked.
‘It’s 1960,’ said the woman. ‘Oh, but you must know that already.’
‘We didn’t, honestly,’ said Beth. ‘We get confused about stuff like that. And could you tell us please what month it is?’
‘It’s August,’ said the woman. Then her smile faded. ‘You’re being cheeky, aren’t you?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘We’re not being cheeky at all. You see Beth and I …’ I stopped talking – how could I possibly begin to explain?
‘Children these days!’ said the woman. ‘You simply don’t know how to respect a
dults.’
‘That’s what my mum always says too,’ I began. ‘She …’, but now the woman looked really cross, so I just smiled and thanked her and she walked away muttering bad stuff about us.
‘August 1960,’ said Beth. ‘That’s so cool. Graham said that’s when Jeanie’s accident happened, remember? Rico might be seriously creepy, but it looks like he’s got it right again.’
‘But we don’t know the exact date,’ I said. ‘And I so don’t fancy asking that cross woman any more questions.’
‘You’re right,’ sighed Beth. ‘And even if we find out today’s exact date, it won’t help us. All we know is that the accident happened around the middle of August. We should have asked Graham for more details.’
‘But we didn’t – and for all we know, Jeanie might have fallen out of the tree two weeks ago, or last week, or maybe even five minutes ago while we were talking to that woman.’
‘So what are we waiting for? Let’s go find Graham and Jeanie.’
* * *
In the present, Beth and I could easily find the way to Orchard House, but in the past, everything is just different enough to make getting around totally confusing. Nothing seemed to be in the right place any more.
‘How did people survive without Google maps?’ sighed Beth as we got lost for the tenth time. ‘Everyone from the olden days should get special medals, just for managing to get to school and back. I’m guessing some people set out for school and were never seen again.’
‘Oh, here’s a woman,’ I said, giggling. ‘Let’s ask her.’
‘Er, excuse me,’ I said. ‘Do you know the way to Orchard Road?’
‘Of course I do,’ said the woman. ‘It’s very easy. You go to the end of this road, take a left at the bridge, then you take the second right, go left at the crossroads, left again, then right at the old water pump and then it’s the next right.’