Charlotte (2 page)

She tossed and turned amongst her pink bed sheets. Her second pillow was discarded, then retrieved. At first, it lay beneath her head, then tucked along her small frame. Amy cuddled into it. After a while, she became too hot so she threw it to the floor.

Her unicorn alarm clock showed 21:09.

Way past her bedtime.

Amy stared at the ceiling. The light from the window, spliced by her pink blinds, sprayed distorted rectangles of brightness onto the wall, her dolls' house, and her computer desk. A car passed in the night, moving the brightness of its headlights along the wall like a searchlight looking for an escaped criminal.

Amy sighed and rolled over.

Finally, her eyes started to close. A warm sensation came over her.

The dark pit of loneliness slowly lifted.

A sleepy smile crossed her lips.

She didn’t see or feel the duvet slide up her body, covering her, protecting her.

The lowering of the mattress, indicating a sizable weight, went unnoticed.

A whisper, barely audible, filled the silent room. 

Cheer up
.
It gets better.

Amy didn’t budge. She was fast asleep.

Saturday. The first full day of the weekend.

Patricia Brunswick idled at her laptop. A steaming cup of Starbucks coffee sat beside her. She sipped from the plastic lid and groaned in delight. "Oh latte, how I missed thee." After browsing Facebook, she closed it down and opened up several documents.

Financial records.

Great fun for a Saturday.

She started typing various numbers into boxes, watching the spreadsheet calculate seemingly boring figures using pre-installed formulas. Tax deducted, inflation increased, bonus separated. She highlighted numbers from different documents. Checked them twice.

Patricia yawned.

She took a huge swig of her coffee.   

"Mum, can I play in the garden?"

Amy walked into the room, a huge grin across her face, an unfamiliar energy in her blue eyes. Her hair was styled differently, swept away from her face. She held Molly, her favourite doll, by one arm. The toy dangled by her side. There was a slight spring in her step today, something Patricia hadn't seen in some time. Her mother smiled, happy to accommodate the positive energy in her normally docile child.  

"Of course. Mind yourself though; don’t go out of my sight. Stay on the lawn, you hear?"

"Sure thing, Mum."

Amy grabbed her plastic tea party table and a bag of plastic cups. Her features screwed into a puzzled look. "Mum, can you go and get Fluffy and Gecko?"

Patricia frowned, looked up, noticed her daughter's predicament, and smiled again. "Sure, honey." Amy skipped out into the garden with carefree abandon. Her mother watched her go. "I need a break anyway." Patricia hit ‘save’ and closed her laptop before making her way upstairs to Amy's bedroom. Her bare feet silently plodded along the carpeted hallway. Looking at the door, labelled AMY with bright pink, stencilled letters, she opened the door and ambled into her daughter's pink abode.

Patricia gasped.

The room was immaculate. Everything was in place, spotless, tidy. The computer desk was clear, the usual debris of stationery a distant memory. The monitor shone, Patricia could see her reflection in it. The dolls' house was straight, neat. Every piece of furniture was in its rightful position. Amy's posters of various cartoon characters and female celebrities were straight and aligned. The cat rug on the floor, normally folded or creased, was flat, parallel to the bed. The bed was made too, the pillows plumped, and Amy's collection of soft toys sat there, guarding it.

Normally, the room would be total childlike chaos. Toys everywhere, clothes bundled in small piles on the carpet. A layer of yellow post-it notes—faded or otherwise—normally covered the computer desk. Drawings of people, characters, and infant handwriting normally decorated them like tattoos.

Patricia's eyes widened as she realised she wasn’t imagining it. 

Patricia spun in amusement, not believing her eyes. She walked to the window and looked down into the garden. Below, Amy was setting up the table. She pulled the blinds apart and stared at her daughter.

Is this what happens when kids start to get older?

Amy manoeuvred the table into place with little effort. Patricia sighed, both impressed and confused. She took a final look around the room, and then stepped to the bed and retrieved Gecko, a green and pink lizard, and Fluffy, her yellow teddy bear. Patricia walked out of the room, closed the door, and ambled down the stairs.

"
Don’t do that
."

Patricia's ears perked up. "What the…?" She walked through the dining room and approached the patio doors.

"You
each
get a turn."

Amy
.

A moment's silence. Patricia paused, listening. She stood out of sight, listening to her child. "Yes, take it in turns or you don’t play."

Another silence.

"That's better."

Patricia peeked around the wall.

Her daughter was sitting at the table, pouring imaginary tea into the plastic cups. Molly was slumped on one of the chairs. Three more chairs sat, empty. Patricia looked down at the two toys in her hands.

Too many chairs?

"One lump or two, Molly?"

A few seconds silence. "Two? You'll rot your teeth. So be it."

Patricia pulled back in and smiled.

Happy and a little concerned.

Was this normal?

She prepared herself and strode out into the garden. The crisp air conjured steam from her mouth. Patricia breathed in deeply, cooling her lungs, enjoying the sensation. Her bare feet scrunched the wet grass, the blades tickling between her toes. Amy looked up and smiled. "Hey, Mum."

"Hey yourself. Having a tea party?"

"Yes, I'd invite you, but only my friends can play."

"Am I not your friend then?" A small pang of hurt stabbed at Patricia's heart.

"No, Mum, you're my mum. You don’t count."

Patricia said nothing.

"Yay, you brought Gecko and Fluffy."

"I did indeed." Patricia sat Gecko on the chair opposite Amy and Fluffy on the one nearest to her. The empty chair was to Amy's right, the other side of the table from where Patricia was standing.

"You've got too many chairs, Amy. I'll take this one indoors."

"No, don’t."

"Why not?"

"That's Charlotte's seat."

"Charlotte? You don’t have a doll called Charlotte."

"I
know
that, sheesh. Charlotte is my friend."

"Friend?"

"Yeah, my friend. We've been friends for a few days. I told you about her."

"You did?"

"Yeah, duh."

Patricia stroked her chin. Her eyes settled on the empty chair.
Was it possible? Had Amy told her of her new friend? Had she missed that?

"Well, have a fun tea party. Don’t drink too much, it'll make you ill."

Amy smiled. "We won't, Mum. Bye now."

Patricia took her cue, turned and left.

Walking back to the house, she frowned and stared back over her shoulder. Amy was still conversing with her toys.

Once back in the dining room, Patricia opened her laptop.

She didn’t see Amy staring in her direction. Watching.

After a moment, she typed into Google:
Imaginary friends
.

"So, what do you want to see?"

"I don’t know, Mum. What's on?"

"The new Disney film is out. Fancy seeing that?" Patricia's eyes roamed outside of the windscreen and almost regretted the idea. A huge queue of people—kids, parents, schoolmates—angled out of the huge cinema doors and trailed to the edge of the car park. Patricia estimated that tickets would no longer be available. Her eyes flicked back to her disinterested daughter. It was Amy's choice.

"Which one is that?"

"The one with the ice princess. Based on the Snow Queen…"

"I spoke to Emily about that. Apparently it's shit."

Patricia reeled, aghast at the swear word. "
Amy!
"

Amy turned to her mother, innocent. "What?"

"Where did you learn such language?"

"From you and Dad?"

"What? When?"

"When you fuck. I hear you all the time. You're disgusting." Amy turned away, nonchalant. "You should really keep it down when I'm trying to sleep."

Patricia said nothing. A fierce, blushing heat washed through her body. She closed her legs at the thought of her daughter hearing them…fuck, as she'd so delicately put it.

Her eyes lingered on her daughter for a moment. She toyed with the idea of taking her home and punishing her. Such foul language for a nine-year-old girl. The thought of returning home, and Charlotte, made her feel sick. She swallowed.

Between a rock and a hard place
.

"You shouldn’t use language like that, Amy. Do as we say not as we do, okay?"

"Nice bumper sticker, Mum. Classic." Amy gave a thumbs up without looking.

Patricia ignored it, half agreeing with her child.
Yeah, that was lame. Kids nowadays have the internet. The language litters their Facebook and music anyway. Move on.
The queue in the cinema began to shuffle along. "So, what film shall we see?"

"I don’t know, Mum. You choose."

"It's your treat. We don’t do this enough…"

"Oh gross." Amy turned to her mother, a glint in her eye. Patricia felt herself back off an inch or two. Her eyes didn’t leave her daughter. Amy stared at her mother, her gaze a little uneasy. "You don’t need to do this, okay? I'm quite content being home with my toys and thoughts. Cinema is for dumbasses anyway, people with no culture."

"So you don’t want to see a film?" Patricia settled back into her seat.

"No, I don’t. Besides, where would Charlotte sit? You can't buy three seats for us. People would think you're insane."

Patricia's eyes narrowed. "Charlotte is here right now?"

"Of course, she's in the back seat."

Patricia yelped slightly. Suddenly, the thought of looking in the rear view mirror was the most petrifying prospect in her entire life. Amy looked at her mother. "What's the matter?"

"Sorry, just remembered something I have to do. Nothing to worry about." Patricia eyed her daughter warily, shaking a little.

"We can see Hercules!" Amy opened the door, stepped onto the asphalt, and closed it behind her. Patricia closed her eyes.
Please don’t let the back door open
. She could hear Amy's footsteps outside the vehicle. After a moment, she opened her eyes once more and Amy was standing in front of the car, hands pressed to her eyebrows, blocking out the sun.

Patricia grabbed her bag from the foot well. With shaking, terrified hands, she slid the strap over her arm and smiled. "Sounds good. Shall we?"

Amy didn’t hear her, being outside the car. Patricia climbed from the vehicle and closed the door with a
thunk
. Using the electronic key, she locked it and joined her daughter on the sidewalk. "Can we get popcorn, Mum?"

"Sure we can. I'll get a large one so we can all share."

"Even Charlotte?"

Patricia gulped. She glanced at the backseat of her car. It was empty. "Even Charlotte."

Amy noticed Mike exit his house. Moments before he came over, as she knew he would, she prepared herself to have a talk. Mike was the first boy she'd ever known. They'd been friends for as long as she could remember, her mum and dad were friends with his mum and dad, and they were neighbours too. Although their conversations were brief, she hadn't spoken to him in some time.

Nearly a year
, she'd realised.

Her mum had mentioned it on the way back from the cinema.
We should invite Mike and his folks round for dinner. You like Mike, don't you? You should hang out more.

Yeah, Mum. Thanks for reminding me.

They hadn't seen Hercules in the end. They'd decided on a kids feature, a rerun of
The Incredibles
. Amy smiled at the thought; it was one of her favourites. She remembered her mum laughing and wondered how long it had been since she'd seen her mum laugh. They'd shared a large popcorn and a Dr. Pepper too. It'd had been a fun afternoon.

Weird,
thought Amy.

"You liked the film, didn’t you, Charlotte?"

A brief silence followed. "Yeah, we can go again. I love the cinema. It's better when I go with Dad. He leaves me in the screen and goes off elsewhere. I feel cool, sitting there on my own. Like a grown up. He always picks me up afterwards. My dad works a lot so he doesn’t get a lot of time to spend with me…"

More silence.

Mike took his front steps two at a time.

"That's Mike. We've been friends for years."

Another silence followed. Amy listened. "No, he's just a friend. We don’t really talk much; we met because our parents are friends."

Mike noticed Amy on the grass and leaned his bike against the fence. A quizzical smile crossed his face. He started walking towards her. A breeze picked up, hurtling red and orange leaves into the air.

"A boyfriend? Gross! I'm
way
too young to have a
boyfriend
. He's too old and he's a teenager. They get hair and body odour at that age too. Major boy cooties!"

Another silence. Amy laughed. "Don't be silly." The smile disappeared from her face almost instantly. "Sorry, I didn’t mean it. I won't call you silly again."

Mike started along the path at the front of Amy's house.

Amy bit her lip. "He's harmless, okay?" A concerned look vanished from Amy's face as Mike ambled over to her.

"Hey, stranger. Where have you been?"

Amy smiled and climbed to her feet. "Hi, Mike." She gave her childhood friend a gentle hug and moved back a step when finished. "Around. Busy with school and stuff. You?"

"Yeah, I feel you. School's a fucking bore, isn't it?"

Amy nodded. "Your school is better than mine though."

"It's a private school. So no, not really. I swear all the teachers are gays and queers."

"Aren't they the same thing? You should really pay attention in class."

"Yeah, I suppose. Anyway, were you just talking to yourself?"

Amy didn’t respond immediately. She blushed and gazed down at her feet. "No."

"It's okay if you were…"

"You going out?" Amy pointed to the bike, changing the subject.

"Yeah, popping down to the football field for a kick about. You can come if you want?"

Amy sat down. "Nah, you're okay. I'm busy here."

Mike looked down at the rumpled picnic blanket and two plastic cups. "Tea party, huh? What are you, five?"

"No, I'm nine. Fancy a cup of imaginary tea?"

Mike narrowed his eyes. "You serious?"

"Of course." Amy smiled, her innocence betraying her.

"You want me to drink fake tea?"

"It's a tea party. You can't drink anything else, the clue is in the…"

"What happened to you?"

"Huh?"

"You used to be so cool, Amy. Now, look at you…drinking fake tea. You know there's a kitchen in your house, right? You can have real tea anytime you want. And what's with the chair? I think you left the doll inside. Drinking imaginary tea with toys is fine, I suppose, but alone? That's just sad."

Amy said nothing. Mike's sudden change in tone startled her.

"You need to grow up, Amy Brunswick. Sorry, but that's the truth."

Mike didn’t notice the glaze cover Amy's eyes as she peered down to her left, listening. He started to turn and chuckled to himself.

Amy glanced up at Mike, her supposed friend, and smiled. "Off you fuck then. Careful climbing on the bike, you don’t want the seat ramming you in the arse. Or do you enjoy that now?"

Mike turned around, astonished. "What did you say?"

Amy smiled. "You heard. Get out of my garden. You're mean."

Mike chuckled. "Is that all you got?
Mean
? My God, you're so fucking lame."

"You don’t think I'm cool?" Amy stood up, her hands inert by her side.

"You're basically room temperature. Such a fucking loser."

"And you are?"

"What?" He took a step forward.

"Cool?" Amy sneered.

"I'm cool, yes. Get with the times, Amy. I have an iPad and an iPhone Six. Six, not five or four. My father brings home a hundred g's a year. It costs a fortune to go to
my
school. Yours is free and open to any scum on the street."

"I'm sure if you ask your teachers, one of them will show you what it is to be 'cool' in an all-boys school. You call them gays…look at you."

"You're so…"

"Maybe if you ask nicely, one of them can give you a nice creamy facial. You'd be cool then."

"What does that mean?"

"Do you not watch porn? Better yet, ask your mum."

Mike said nothing.

"Ask your mum. I'm sure your dad likes to debunk on her face now and then."

"Shut up."

"Now who's lame?"

Mike said nothing. He started walking backwards.

"Now, fuck off out of my garden." An awkward silence filled the air. Amy rolled the picnic blanket up and put it under her arm. She glared at Mike and waved. "Bye."

Mike, looking a little forlorn, backed away and strode out of the garden. He raised a hand and said nothing, turned his back and left.

Amy bit her lip, saying nothing. After a second, she nodded. "He used to be a nice boy." Amy turned and walked to the back door. Beyond, she saw her father snoozing in his armchair. She paused, looked at the bushes surrounding her garden, and made her way to them. She ducked, manoeuvred into a small gap between the hedge and fence and sat down.

She started rocking.

"He used to be a nice boy."

Moments earlier, from the kitchen window, Patricia watched her daughter disappear into the hedge. She stood idle, observing her for a good ten minutes. In silence. Patricia ran the idea through her head over and over, considering the implications. "Bruce?"

"Yeah?" Bruce sat up, wiping drool from his face and sleep from his eyes. "What's up?"

"I think something is wrong with Amy."

"How so?"

"I'm not sure. I think we need to take her to a doctor."

"She ill?"

"I don’t know. Maybe. I mean a shrink, not a medical doctor."

"I'm sure everything is fine. She's a kid. Kids do weird stuff."

"She has an imaginary friend…and she's changed somewhat in the past week or so."

"Kids change all the time, darling. It's nothing to worry about."

"You haven’t seen it though…it's creepy."

"Creepy how? Omen creepy or…"

"I'm serious."

Bruce stood up and stretched his arms. His elbows cracked, drawing a wince from his wife. He walked over. "Okay. If you want to do this, I'm with you." Bruce placed his arms around her waist. He kissed her on the shoulder. "Whatever you want, we'll do it."

"It's strange. She tidied her room. She swore at me. She heard us…you know?"

"What? Fucking?"

"Yep…smooth as always. Why can't you call it making love at least once?"

"Let's face it, darling, we do anything but…make love."

Patricia smiled. "I suppose you’re right."

"So our kid tidies her room, swears and listens to people having sex? Sounds normal to me."

"I don’t know. There's something about her…you know she has an imaginary friend called Charlotte?"

"Really?" Bruce nuzzled into his wife's neck.