I’ve never thought of myself as “cool”. If anything, I’m the exact polar opposite of cool. I’ve been called a lot of names in school. Geek. Dweeb. Dork. Nerd. I’ve been called them all, mostly by the same three boys.
But not “cool”. No one’s ever called me that.
And there, kneeling on the floor beside a fifty-one-year-old woman as she rummaged around in a box full of fancy-dress outfits, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more uncool in my life.
‘Look at this! I’d forgotten about this one!’ Marion chirped. She pulled out a crumpled pile of green material and looked at it as if it were carved from solid gold.
‘What is it?’ I asked, trying to get into the spirit of things, but failing miserably. It had been a long, horrible day and I’d barely slept the night before. I didn’t want to look at costumes, I wanted to go to bed.
‘It’s a frog,’ she said, with a tone that suggested I’d have to be an idiot not to realise what the scraps of cloth were meant to be. ‘It’s Mr Froggy.’
‘So it is.’
Marion folded the costume neatly and sat it to one side. ‘What else have we got in here?’ she wondered, digging deeper down into the pile.
The frog outfit was the fourth one she’d pulled out. Or maybe it was the fifth. I couldn’t say for sure. My ability to count had deserted me twenty minutes ago when she’d opened the chest. So had my will to live. This was torture.
‘I used to fit in this fairy outfit,’ she announced, holding up a pink leotard with cardboard wings attached. She was looking at the outfit, but her eyes seemed to stare through it. ‘The fun I used to have,’ she said quietly. ‘Long time ago. Long time.’
It was one of those moments when I didn’t know whether to speak or not. She was lost in a memory, probably back as a fairy, dancing around this same house. I wondered how many years ago it had been.
‘But listen to me,’ she said, shoving the costume carelessly back into the trunk, ‘rattling on about childish things.’ She picked up some of the other outfits and began cramming them forcefully back inside the box. Her face was tinged with red, as if she was embarrassed at the way she had drifted off. ‘You don’t want to be sat here with me doing this. You’ll be wanting your bed.’
I thought of the single chair beneath the kitchen table, and of the bowl of food set out for the dog that would never be coming home.
‘It’s fine,’ I said. ‘I’m enjoying it.’
She hesitated with a bundle of clothes halfway to the box. ‘Really?’
‘Yeah, it’s good. It’s interesting. Show me them all.’
‘You sure?’ Marion asked. ‘There’s quite a lot of them.’
I leaned over and peered inside the box properly. It was full to the top with the outfits. ‘So there are,’ I said, smiling too broadly. ‘Must be fifty of them in there.’
‘Probably more. You sure you want to see them all?’
I nodded, the plastic grin still stuck to my face. ‘Yep,’ I squeaked.
This was going to be a very long night.
‘That’s them all,’ Marion said. Her head and shoulders were inside the costume chest, giving her voice a booming, echoing quality. ‘Just odds and sods left.’
‘Aww, that’s a shame,’ I said, fighting the urge to jump up and run around the room cheering.
‘No, wait, I tell a lie. Here’s one.’
I bit my fist. ‘Yay!’
‘Oh, now I remember this,’ she said, holding up an orangey-brown jumpsuit with a furry hood. ‘It’s the lion.’
‘It’s a lion,’ I agreed, trying to appear interested.
‘No, it’s the lion. The cowardly lion, from the film.’ ‘What film?’
She nudged me on the arm, almost making me topple over. ‘Were you even watching it?’ she asked. Her eyes were narrowed, but she was fighting back a smile. ‘The Wizard of Oz.’
‘Oh, right, yes,’ I stumbled. ‘Um… I liked the flying monkeys.’
She rolled her eyes and chuckled. ‘Boys!’
‘Sorry,’ I said, although I wasn’t quite sure why.
She waved her hand, dismissing the apology. ‘At least you pretended to watch it. That’s good enough for me.’ Her eyes went from the costume to me and back again. Finally she said, ‘Actually, yes, you do owe me an apology. You need to make it up to me.’
I frowned. ‘Um… what?’
‘Put this on,’ she said, passing me the lion outfit. ‘See what it looks like.’
I stared down at the tatty orange bundle in my hands. It was made out of a stretchy material, like a thick pair of women’s tights. ‘You can’t be serious.’
‘Come on, it’ll be fun,’ she urged. Marion was keeping her face straight, but her eyes twinkled mischievously, like she could burst out laughing at any minute. ‘Been forty years since I saw anyone wearing that outfit. Go put it on. Just for a minute.’
My mouth flapped open and closed as I searched for excuses. ‘It’ll be too small. It won’t fit.’
‘My friend used to wear it. He was about your size.’
‘But it’s… I mean, you can’t… It’s not…’ Unable to find an end to any of those sentences, I decided just to surrender to my fate. ‘OK,’ I sighed, standing up. ‘But only for a minute. And no laughing.’
Marion pretended to scratch her nose, but I could tell she was really just covering the smile that had spread across her face. ‘Come on,’ she said, her voice cracking. ‘As if I would!’
Ten minutes later I stood outside the living room, adjusting the costume. Putting it on hadn’t been the nicest experience. The whole thing smelled of damp and mould, and just as I’d expected, it was way too small. And because it was a one-piece outfit, this was causing me some problems.
For one thing, the sleeves were far too short, coming to a stop halfway along my forearms, but that wasn’t the big issue. The real problem lay in the legs.
The legs were exactly like tights in that they had feet at the bottom. This was fine – they stretched to allow my own feet in – but the legs were much shorter than my own. This meant that the crotch of the outfit hung down somewhere around my knees, and I’d had to contort my entire body to get the top part of the outfit up over my shoulders.
Now it was on, the stretched material was trying to snap back together. It pulled down on my shoulders, turning me into a sort of deformed hunchback figure. A deformed hunchback figure dressed as the lion from The Wizard of Oz.
Pulling the furry hood up over my head, I sighed and stepped into the living room. How the hell did I find myself in these situations?
‘Ta-daa!’ I said, holding out my arms as I entered the room, only to find nobody there. The costumes were still piled on the floor and the chest was still open, but there was no sign of Marion.
I returned to the hall, noticing how silent the house was. Suddenly the forty-year-old fancy-dress costume I was wearing wasn’t the only thing making me uncomfortable.
‘Marion?’ I said. No reply. I tried again, louder. ‘Marion?’ Again nothing.
Creeping across the hall I pushed open the door to the kitchen, half expecting to find a flock of birds in there. Instead I found an empty room, with the back door standing wide open.
‘Marion, you there?’ I called, edging towards the open door. Clouds of cold air rolled in through the gap, making me shake and shiver like… well, like a cowardly lion.
As I drew nearer the door I saw her. She was standing just outside the house, looking out into the darkness. A full bowl of dog food was clutched in her hands.
‘There you are,’ I said, stepping out to join her and immediately wishing I hadn’t. The cold was biting and my current attire was hardly designed for warmth. ‘You OK?’
‘Still no sign of him,’ she said. ‘I’m really starting to get worried now.’
I didn’t speak. I couldn’t tell her the truth. Not now. Not after leaving it so long.
‘He’ll be fine.’
‘I’m not so sure,’ she said, pulling her cardigan tightly around her neck. ‘It doesn’t feel right. Something’s wrong. Something’s happened.’
She spent another few moments scanning the darkness, before finally turning to face me. Her expression went from sad to surprised to delighted in under a second.
‘Oh my goodness. You look—’
‘Like an idiot?’
‘Well, it’s not quite the word I’d have chosen,’ she grinned. ‘But maybe it is a little bit on the neat side. Joe couldn’t have been as tall as you, after all.’
‘Joe?’ I asked, through chattering teeth.
‘The old friend of mine I mentioned.’ She gestured with the dog bowl towards the door. ‘Now get inside before you freeze.’
I gratefully rushed back inside, not stopping until I was in the living room, where the fire crackling in the hearth quickly began to warm me up. Marion arrived a few moments after me, Toto’s bowl no longer in her hands.
‘Now,’ she said, ‘where’s that camera?’
‘Don’t you dare!’
‘Kidding,’ she laughed. ‘I think you’ve been tortured quite enough for one night.’
I smiled, relieved. ‘Thanks.’
‘Besides, you’re here for ages yet. Plenty more costumes for you to try on.’ She caught my expression and gave another laugh. ‘I’m joking. You have to stop taking me so seriously.’ Her eyes went to the stash of clothes on the floor as she remembered something. ‘Although, come to think about it…’
I stood there by the fire, hunched over in my badly fitting lion costume, watching her rummage through the outfits. Silently, I gave thanks that Ameena wasn’t around to pass comment.
‘I’ve got Dorothy’s dress and the Tin Man’s hat,’ Marion announced, holding up a blue and white checked outfit and a metal funnel. ‘I’m sure I used to have the full set, but one’s missing. That’s a shame.’ She held the items higher. ‘Fancy either of these?’
‘I’ll pass, thanks,’ I said.
She nodded and smiled. ‘Fair enough.’ Her bones creaked as she got to her feet. ‘Now, it’s high time you were in bed.’
I looked at the clock and was shocked to see the hands had crept past midnight. Too late to phone Mum now. ‘Suppose so,’ I agreed. I hovered awkwardly near the door for a few moments, then said, ‘Night, then.’
‘Goodnight, Kyle,’ Marion said. ‘And thank you.’
‘What for?’
‘For being good company. I haven’t had such a laugh in a long time.’
‘Oh,’ I said. I didn’t think I’d been that funny. ‘No problem. I mean, good. I enjoyed it too,’ I continued, and I wasn’t lying.
Marion sat down in her armchair and gazed into the fire. I moved to leave, but hesitated again just inside the doorway. ‘It must get lonely out here,’ I said. ‘All on your own.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about me, I’m not on my own,’ she replied. ‘I’ve got Toto.’
Ouch. I quickly changed tack. ‘But, I mean, isn’t there anyone else? What about your friend. Joe, did you say his name was? What happened to him?’
Marion adjusted herself in her chair. ‘We… drifted apart. Haven’t seen him in decades,’ she said with a shrug. ‘Still, these things happen. Friendships come and go.’
I gave another nod. I knew one or two things about broken friendships.
‘I was lonely once upon a time, back when I was a girl. No other children for miles. Just my parents for company,’ she said, her eyes taking on that faraway look again. ‘And then he came along. I think I was five or six when he turned up, and suddenly… I wasn’t lonely any more.
‘He was older than me. A lot older, older than my father, even, but it didn’t matter because in many ways he was just like a child. We’d go for walks in the woods. Play games. He loved dressing up. We both did. Disguising ourselves, pretending to be other people. It was exciting. In some ways I think he was only truly happy when he was being someone else.’
‘Didn’t your parents mind, though? You hanging about with a strange man like that?’
‘Oh no, they didn’t really mind,’ she said with a chuckle. ‘How could they? They never saw him. No one ever saw him but me.’
The lion costume seemed to become even tighter around me, squeezing the air from my insides. I shifted my weight on my feet, and realised my back was suddenly clammy with sweat.
‘What do you mean,’ I said hoarsely, ‘no one saw him but you?’
Marion laughed. ‘Makes me sound crazy, doesn’t it?’ She picked up a poker and jabbed it into the fire, sending sparks fluttering up the chimney. ‘I called him Joe Crow,’ she said, smiling wistfully. She looked up at me, and the words she spoke shook me to my core.
‘He was my imaginary friend.’