The Imaginary (26 page)

‘Did she ask after me?' Rudger asked that evening.

‘No, not a word,' Amanda said.

It was dark in the bedroom. Amanda was in bed, Rudger was in his wardrobe. Everything was back the way it had been before.

‘
Did you ask her?'

‘About Veronica?'

‘Yeah.'

‘Well, I did mention the name a
few
times, just accidentally in passing. You know, “Will you pass me the pencil sharpener, Veronica?” and “Can I sit next to you for lunch, Veronica?” Stuff like that.'

‘And what did she say?'

‘“My name's not Veronica,” and “Leave me alone, you weirdo.” That sort of thing.'

‘I'm sorry.'

‘Don't be silly, Rudger. I don't care 'bout that. It was very funny. She's a weird one, Julia, but I like her. And I promise I'll stop doing it tomorrow.' She thought for a moment. ‘Or the day after.'

The next morning Rudger was sat in the front room with Fridge looking out of the window, watching the cat.

Sometimes Oven, Amanda's cat, behaved as if she had seen Rudger (although no one was ever really sure), but they all agreed that she never saw Fridge. The dog would lie down beside her where she was sleeping and she would slowly be pushed off the sofa or down the stairs, but, in her cattish way, she would just yawn, stretch, wash her ear and wander off to sleep somewhere else.

‘That's not Oven,' Rudger said, all of a sudden.

‘No,' said Fridge.

The
cat that was sat on the front lawn, washing its leg, was definitely not Oven. Rudger recognised the mangled outline, the torn ear, the odd eyes, the bent tail.

‘It's Zinzan,' he said.

Rudger ran to the front door, pulled it open.

‘Hey, Zinzan,' he called.

‘Rudger,' said the cat, strolling past him and into the house.

Fridge was in the hallway. He was lurking in the shadows.

‘No,' he said in a gruff bark.

The cat hopped up onto the bottom step of the stairs and scratched its ear.

It blinked slowly. Said nothing.

Fridge shrank back further into the shadows.

‘Not this time,' he said. ‘Not any more.'

Zinzan said nothing.

There was a tinkling bell upstairs.

Oven appeared on the very top step. Stopped. Saw Zinzan. Turned tail and ran back to hide in someone's bedroom.

Zinzan laughed a cattish laugh.

‘You don't want to come with me?'

‘No,' said Fridge.

‘You know what that means.'

Fridge nodded.

‘What's going on?' asked Rudger, thinking he understood, but sort of hoping he didn't.

‘
Fridge?' called Amanda's mum from the kitchen. ‘Can you smell something?'

‘Lizzie?'

‘Ah, there you are,' she said, coming into the hallway and stroking his shaggy fur. ‘There's a weird smell coming from somewhere. Can you—'

She saw the strange cat on the bottom step.

It blinked at her. Slowly.

‘How did
you
get in here? Oven!' she called up the stairs. ‘Someone's in your territory.' Then she spoke to Zinzan. ‘Shoo, go on you, get out. Awful smelly cat—'

‘It's alright, Lizzie,' Fridge said. ‘It's with me.'

‘You mean it's a…?'

‘No. It's a cat. Just a cat I know. It'll be gone in a minute.'

When Amanda came home from school, she ran inside.

Rudger told her the news.

Fridge had gone.

He was old, Rudger explained. He went down the end of the garden after lunch and the wind took him.

Rudger had sat with the dog. He'd liked Fridge. But now, a few hours later, he already found it difficult to remember exactly what the dog had looked like. He was forgetting, just like he'd forgotten… Oh, he thought, he'd forgotten someone. Who was it?

After
Fridge had blown away, Rudger had come back inside and looked at the photographs around the house. He wasn't in any of them, except one that Amanda had pinned to the cork notice board in her bedroom. She'd drawn him in, in felt tip. She said it still counted.

Photographs are all we have of some people. Those and our memories.

Imagination
is slippery, Rudger knew that well enough. Memory doesn't hold it tight, it has trouble enough holding on to the real, remembering the real people who are lost.

He was pleased she had the photo, that she'd made the photo, that she had something of him that wouldn't fade, because one day, he knew, as unlikely as it seemed, she would forget him. It was what happened in time, no one's fault, just the way things go. But years from now, as a grownup, she'd find the photo tucked away in a drawer, or hidden between the pages of a book, and look at it with its odd addition. Maybe something of Rudger would slip back into her mind, or maybe she'd just shake her head and laugh at her over-enthusiastic youthful penmanship (or at her haircut), but either way…well, either way would be enough for Rudger.

‘I'm sorry, Mum,' Amanda said that afternoon.

‘What's that, love?'

‘About Fridge.'

‘What about the fridge?'

‘No, about…' Amanda stopped talking. Grownups weren't made to see everything, someone had told her that. They forgot things so easily sometimes. She looked at Rudger.

‘I'm never going to forget you,' she said, and she meant it.

‘What's that?' her mum said.

‘I was talking to Rudger.'

‘
Oh, Rudger. Is he still around?'

‘Come on,' said Amanda, and she and Rudger went out of the back door into the garden.

‘Dinner's in twenty minutes,' her mum called.

The two of them ran in the sunshine, the grass under their bare feet.

Rudger was the first into the den, crawling under the thorn bush.

‘What is it?' he asked, eagerly. ‘What is it today?'

‘Can't you tell?' Amanda said, wriggling in beside him, reaching up and flicking some switches. Lights whirred and engines hummed. ‘Rudger, my friend, it's whatever you want it to be.'

Bloomsbury
Publishing, London, New Delhi, New York and Sydney

First published in Great Britain in October 2014 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc 50 Bedford Square, London WC1B 3DP

www.bloomsbury.com

Bloomsbury is a registered trademark of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

This electronic edition published in 2014 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

Text copyright © A. F. Harrold 2014

Illustrations copyright © Emily Gravett 2014

The moral rights of the author and illustrator have been asserted

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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

HB ISBN 978 1 4088 5246 0

Export PB ISBN 978 1 4088 5727 4

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