Love Over Scotland - Alexander Hanchett Smith [155]
“There’s Tofu,” he said. “He’s my best friend.” He paused, and then added: “I think.”
Dr Fairbairn watched Bertie closely. There had been hesitation, which was significant. That was the internal debate as to whether to take him into his confidence. And then there had been the “I think” added on at the end. That made it quite clear, as did the name. Tofu. No real child would be called that. No: Tofu was one of these imaginary friends. And now that he had been declared, some progress might be made with working out what was going on in this interesting little mind. Dr Fairbairn mentally rubbed his hands with glee. There was a growing literature on children’s imaginary friends, and he might perhaps add to it. There was Marjorie Taylor’s ground-breaking Imaginary Companions and the Children Who Create Them. That was a very useful study, but there was always room for more, and it would be especially interesting to see what role an imaginary companion played in the life of this particularly complex young child.
“Tell me about Tofu,” he asked gently. “Is he always there?”
Bertie stared at Dr Fairbairn. What a peculiar question to ask. Of course Tofu was not always there. He saw him at school and that was all. There was nobody who was always there, except Imaginary Friends 325
perhaps his mother, and even she was not there sometimes.
“No,” he said. “He’s not always there. Just sometimes.”
Dr Fairbairn nodded. “Of course,” he said. “But when he is there, you know, don’t you?”
Bertie’s eyes widened. “Yes,” he said. “I can tell when he’s there.”
“But he’s not with us at the moment, is he?” asked Dr Fairbairn.
Bertie decided to remain calm. In his experience, the best thing to do was to humour Dr Fairbairn. If one did that, then he usually quietened down.
“No,” said Bertie. “He’s not here at the moment. But I may see him tomorrow.”
Dr Fairbairn nodded. “Of course. And does he talk to you?”
“Yes,” said Bertie. “Tofu can talk. He’s just like any other boy.”
“Of course,” said Dr Fairbairn. “Of course he is. He’s very real, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” said Bertie. His voice was small now.
“Does Mummy see Tofu too?” coaxed Dr Fairbairn.
“No,” said Bertie. His mother rarely saw Tofu. Sometimes she spotted him at the school gate, but Tofu usually left before Irene arrived, and Bertie did not encourage any contact, as he knew that she had never liked Tofu since he had exchanged his jeans for Bertie’s crushed-strawberry dungarees.
“And do you think that Mummy would like Tofu?” asked Dr Fairbairn. “That is, if she could see him.”
“No,” said Bertie.
Dr Fairbairn was silent. It was classic. This Tofu was a complete projection, and if he could be fleshed out, a great deal would be revealed. But more than that: he could also become a therapeutic ally.
As Dr Fairbairn gazed thoughtfully at Bertie, so too did Bertie gaze at the psychotherapist. When they eventually took Dr Fairbairn off to hospital – to Carstairs – thought Bertie, would he be able to make friends there?
Perhaps not, but then maybe he would be able to invent a 326 Lost in the Mists Hunting Pirates
friend. That would keep him from feeling too lonely. He could call her Melanie if she was a woman. That would be nice. Or Sigmund, if he was a man. That would be nice too, thought Bertie.
104. Lost in the Mists Hunting Pirates
Sikispela moningtaim – or six in the morning – and Domenica made her way across the compound to Henry’s house. A heavy mist had descended, and the trees on the edge of the village were shrouded in white, lending the whole place a distinctly eerie feeling. Domenica shivered. She was cold now, but there was no point in bringing any warm clothing with her as the heat would build up the moment the mist burned off – and it always did that.
The pirates, she had noticed, left for work between seven and eight in the morning, which meant that she and Henry had an hour or so to prepare to follow them.