family filling my screen: his wife, Juliet, son Tim and his wife Marie, and their four-year-old daughter, Phoebe. All were glowing with health with tanned faces and sun-kissed hair. They lived in Constantia in Cape Town, near to Juliet’s parents, and it was summer over there, sunlight streaming in through an open door behind them. They lived in a colonial-style bungalow with dark wooden floors, whitewashed walls, a veranda at the front and a garden full of bougainvillea at the back.
‘We’ve prepared a song, Bea,’ said Matthew and, on his nod, the whole family burst into a few rounds of ‘Ding Dong Merrily On High’. I laughed as they went at it with great gusto.
‘Now you sing,’ said Phoebe when they’d finished.
‘Oh er …’ I settled for a few verses of ‘We Wish you a Merry Christmas’, which they joined in with on the last lines.
‘Weird having our Christmas visit in cyberspace, isn’t it?’ said Matthew.
‘I guess – still, it’s magic to be able to see you and your gorgeous house.’
‘I’ve been drawing,’ said Phoebe. She disappeared for a few moments then came back and held up her artwork. It showed two stick people holding hands.
‘And who are they?’ I asked.
‘S’me and Jessie,’ said Phoebe.
‘Lovely,’ I said, ‘and is Jessie a friend?’
Phoebe nodded. ‘My sister.’
In the background, I noticed Tim and Marie exchange glances and smile. ‘Come on you,’ said Marie. ‘Time for bed.’
‘But Jessie’s not tired yet,’ said Phoebe.
‘OK,’ said Marie. ‘Well she can come and sit on the end of your bed while you go to sleep.’ She looked back out of the screen. ‘Merry Christmas, Bea, lovely to see you.’
‘You too,’ I said. ‘And have a great New Year.’
Tim, Marie and Phoebe waved from the screen and left me with Matthew and Juliet.
‘OK, so who’s Jessie? Have they adopted a child and you haven’t told me?’ I asked.
‘Oh no. Jessie’s not real,’ said Matthew.
‘Ah, so she’s a doll or something?’
Juliet shook her head. ‘She’s her imaginary friend. Phoebe’s hilarious. She’s always talking to her or about her and says she’s her sister.’
‘Probably because she’s an only child,’ said Matthew, ‘so until another comes along, she’s created her own fantasy sibling.’
‘We’ve had to accept her as part of the family,’ said Juliet.
‘Hey Bea, remember you had an imaginary friend when you were little?’ Matthew asked.
‘Me? No. I don’t remember that.’
‘God, I do. You used to threaten me with him if I’d annoyed you.’
‘Him?’
‘Yes. I can’t remember his name, but if I’d ever done something you didn’t like, you’d say your friend was bigger than me and would get me.’
‘I have no recollection at all,’ I said.
‘Why would you? You were about Phoebe’s age.’
‘And often children grow out of these imaginary friends and don’t remember them at all,’ said Juliet. ‘No doubt Phoebe will in time, especially if Tim and Marie have another child.’
‘That’s right. I don’t think you mentioned your friend after a certain age, maybe after Mark came along,’ Matthew continued, ‘but … I remember! You used to say that you were going to marry him. I remember that. You were forever making wedding plans and collecting old bits of material and making them into dresses.’
‘You’re making this up.’
‘I’m not. Ask Mum and Dad, I bet they’ll remember. Oh, and by the way, Michael O’Connor got in touch with me on Facebook. He asked for your address and mobile number. I hope you didn’t mind me passing on your details. I seem to remember you being broken-hearted over him at some point.’
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