Then he heard a voice say, ‘Where’s he gone? What a confounding boy it is. Look, look, look. Look at that. All this running and we’re back on the street. Madness, imaginary madness.’
It was Mr Bunting talking to himself, or probably, Rudger thought, talking to the girl. He was just the other side of the wall.
This was the brilliance of an imaginary door in an imaginary alleyway. Mr Bunting wouldn’t find it now, he couldn’t find it on his own and, Rudger really hoped, his girl was unable to work the trick either.
‘You’re right,’ the man said, after listening to his silent companion. ‘We must do something about him. I’ve got an idea where to begin. Remember his little friend…?’
There was a hiss like a wheezing snake and then Rudger heard footsteps going away and finally silence surrounded him and he breathed easy.
He was, at last, once again, safe. But, he thought, poor Emily. With all the running he hadn’t had a chance to really think about what he’d seen. Now he did. She’d been liquefied. Not eaten, but drunk by Mr Bunting. She was gone and he didn’t know if there was any way to bring her back.
And then he thought, Where’s the cat?
And then he thought, I need to get inside.
‘No, no, no,’ Cruncher-of-Bones, the person-sized imaginary teddy bear, said, waving her furry arms in the air to stop Rudger talking. ‘There is no “Mr Bunting”, it’s just a story to frighten the recently forgotten with. It’s all just an urban myth. We told you last night, remember?’
‘No!’ Rudger insisted, gabbling, breathless with urgency. ‘It’s not a myth. It’s true. I’ve seen him again, him and the girl. Just now…looking for the alley… I had to run, but he got Emily. I saw him eat her. There was nothing I could do. I’m so sorry.’
‘Who?’
Rudger rubbed his eyes.
‘Emily,’ he said. ‘She’s gone, she’s—’
‘Emily?’
The bear’s face was hard to read. Was she playing some sort of game with him, pretending not to have heard the name before? But why?
‘I saw him eat her,’ Rudger said quietly. ‘She’s gone, isn’t she? She’s not coming back.’ He paused for a second. ‘Or can you? Once he’s swallowed you, is there a way to come back? Could we rescue her?’
Cruncher-of-Bones rubbed her chin with a paw as if thinking, before saying, ‘All the stories I’ve heard say once you’re swallowed you’re “lost to the world”, as if you never were. That’s the phrase they use, “lost to the world”. Once you’re gone, you’re gone. It’s worse than Fading.’ She stopped and shook her head. ‘Or it would be, Rudger, if “Mr Bunting” were real, which he’s not. He’s just made up.’ She offered him a cake off her trolley as if the matter were over. ‘Maybe a cup of hot chocolate? You like that, don’t you?’
‘But what about Emily?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
It was clear Rudger was going to get nothing out of her. She wasn’t playing a game, wasn’t pretending. She simply didn’t remember Emily. It was as if Emily had been removed from her memory at the same time as she was removed from the world. But Rudger had seen it happen and Rudger still remembered her.
He tried speaking to some of the other Friends.
The bouncing ping pong ball didn’t remember her.
A group of a dozen tiny men dressed as gnomes who leapt on him from a bookcase shouting, ‘Surprise attack!’ didn’t remember her either.
The Friend who looked like an old Victorian schoolmaster, The Great Fandango, requested that Rudger stop wasting his time. He was trying to read a book, he said it was very important, and even though he had it open upside down and had been snoring when Rudger had nudged him, Rudger didn’t argue.
Emily had been forgotten by everyone.
He wished Snowflake were here. The dinosaur was as big as an elephant and elephants never forget. But maybe even Snowflake would have forgotten Emily.
He’d thought he’d get help at the library, but it looked like he’d been wrong. All he’d found was a roof to hide under and some free food to eat while he tried to come up with a plan of his own to put an end to Mr Bunting’s feeding.
Could he do that? Was that really what he wanted to do? Wouldn’t he rather just hide away and be safe himself? Wouldn’t that be more sensible?
Probably, but Amanda would never have forgiven him.
As he made his way to the hammocks later that night he was stopped by a bark.
He turned to find an imaginary dog behind him.
It was black and white, a shaggy old thing. It looked faint at the edges and grey round the eyes, as if it had seen better days and was now beginning to fray. Rudger remembered seeing it the day before. It was the dog that had been asleep by the notice board.
‘Hello,’ said Rudger.
The dog barked quietly and cocked its head to one side.
‘Can I help you?’
‘You’re him, aren’t you?’ the dog said, its voice friendly but gruff.
‘Him who?’
‘The new chap Bones was talking about.’
‘I guess so. I’m Rudger.’
‘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 unhapp
y. 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.’
Rudger hadn’t noticed it happen. You’d’ve thought, he thought, you’d notice something like that, wouldn’t you?
He’d made his way through the library to the Corridor holding Julia’s photo, just as he and Emily had done with John Jenkins’ picture. He had felt perfectly normal then. He’d pushed through the half-real door and walked down the passage lined with the wallpaper peppered with those small blue flowers. He had felt perfectly normal then. He’d pushed through the door at the other end and…
Julia had opened the wardrobe door and found him.
Except she hadn’t found him.
She’d found her.
The answer was simple: Rudger was Julia’s imaginary friend now, so he looked the way she wanted him to look. In this case she wanted him to look like a girl called Veronica.
Emily had never warned him this could happen.
Somehow it didn’t seem quite fair.
He still felt like Rudger inside. He could remember all the Rudgerish things he’d done. He still remembered climbing trees and descending into the bubbling mouths of volcanoes with Amanda, but now his long red hair kept getting in the way of his face and his legs were already getting cold
under his skirt.
But Rudger had to face the facts. He’d become a girl.
Julia led Rudger down to breakfast.
‘Mum,’ she said. ‘I want you to meet my new friend.’
‘A friend, dear?’ her mother said over her shoulder, from the sink where she was doing some washing up.
‘Yes, she only arrived this morning, so she’s probably hungry.’
‘What do you mean, dear? A friend?’
‘I found her in the wardrobe. It’s okay, she’s called Veronica.’
Her mother put a freshly washed mug carefully down on the draining board and turned round.
‘Julia, I don’t think you should be bringing friends home without telling me beforehand. I’ve not vacuumed and your father needs to clean the pond out. What would people think?’
‘Oh, she doesn’t mind. She used to live at Amanda’s house and her mum never vacuums, everyone knows that.’
Julia’s mum stood there for a moment, letting the words her daughter had said sink in. There were quite a lot of words and not all of them belonged together.
‘What do you mean, “she used to live at Amanda’s house”?’ she asked.
‘Well, she used to be Amanda’s friend Roger, but now she’s my friend Veronica.’
‘Amanda? Amanda Shuffleup? From your class at school?’
‘Yeah,’ Julia said. ‘But she’s too weird so Veronica had to find a new friend, a better one. That’s why she came to me. Ow!’
‘What happened?’
‘Veronica kicked me.’
‘She’s here?’
‘Of course she is. She’s stood right there.’
Julia pointed at Rudger.
Her mother looked very carefully at the empty space.
It was definitely space and definitely empty.
‘Darling,’ she said, slowly.
‘What?’
‘There’s no one there.’ (She said this in a tiptoeing half-whisper.)
‘Well, you can’t see her, can you? She’s imaginary.’
‘Imaginary?’
The Imaginary Page 8