AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘Harry’s my brother.’
‘But Chris, you haven’t got a brother. Daddy and mummy have only got one child, one little girl, that’s you. Harry can’t be your brother.’
‘Harry’s my brother. He says so.’ She bent over the glass of milk and emerged with a smeary top lip. Then she grabbed at the biscuits. At least ‘Harry’ hadn’t spoilt her appetite!
After she’d had her milk, I said, ‘We’ll go shopping now, Chris. You’d like to come to the shops with me, wouldn’t you?’
‘I want to stay with Harry.’
‘Well you can’t. You’re coming with me.’
‘Can Harry come too?’
‘No.’
My hands were trembling as I put on my hat and gloves. It was chilly in the house nowadays, as if there were a cold shadow over it in spite of the sun outside. Chris came with me meekly enough, but as we walked down the street, she turned and waved.
I didn’t mention any of this to Jim that night. I knew he’d only scoff as he’d done before. But when Christine’s ‘Harry’ fantasy went on day after day, it got more and more on my nerves. I came to hate and dread those long summer days. I longed for grey skies and rain. I longed for the white roses to wither and die. I trembled when I heard Christine’s voice prattling away in the garden. She talked quite unrestrainedly to ‘Harry’ now.
One Sunday, when Jim heard her at it, he said:
‘I’ll say one thing for imaginary companions, they help a child on with her talking. Chris is talking much more freely than she used to.’
‘With an accent,’ I blurted out.
‘An accent?’
‘A slight cockney accent.’
‘My dearest, every London child gets a slight cockney accent. It’ll be much worse when she goes to school and meets lots of other kids.’
‘We don’t talk cockney. Where does she get it from? Who can she be getting it from except Ha …’ I couldn’t say the name.
‘The baker, the milkman, the dustman, the coalman, the window cleaner – want any more?’
‘I suppose not.’ I laughed ruefully. Jim made me feel foolish.
‘Anyway,’ said Jim, ‘I haven’t noticed any cockney in her voice.’
‘There isn’t when she talks to us. It’s only when she’s talking to – to him.’
‘To Harry. You know, I’m getting quite attached to young Harry. Wouldn’t it be fun if one day we looked out and saw him?’
‘Don’t!’ I cried. ‘Don’t say that! It’s my nightmare. My waking nightmare. Oh, Jim, I can’t bear it much longer.’
He looked astonished. ‘This Harry business is really getting you down, isn’t it?’
‘Of course it is! Day in, day out, I hear nothing but “Harry this,” “Harry that,” “Harry says,” “Harry thinks,” “Can Harry have some?”, “Can Harry come too?” – it’s all right for you out at the office all day, but I have to live with it: I’m – I’m afraid of it, Jim. It’s so queer.’
‘Do you know what I think you should do to put your mind at rest?’
‘What?’
‘Take Chris along to see old Dr Webster tomorrow. Let him have a little talk with her.’
‘Do you think she’s ill – in her mind?’
‘Good heavens, no! But when we come across something that’s a bit beyond us, it’s as well to take professional advice.’
