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‘I don’t know what we’re paying that psychiatrist for.’ Amy’s mother’s voice was laced with anger.

  ‘I want to stay at home with Becca today,’ said Amy.

  Her mother frowned. ‘You spend too much time on your own, it’s not good for you. Your father has taken time off work today. We told you we’d be going out to dinner for your birthday.’

  Amy averted her eyes from her mother’s steely gaze. Sometimes she felt like a caged bird; spending more and more time in isolation in her bedroom. Whenever her parents came to see her it was to ask if she was “all right”, or to suggest a family day out. Dr. Grube, the silver-haired psychiatrist, had recommended that they spend more time together as a family unit because many of Amy’s issues sprung from her being an only child and not spending enough quality time with her parents.

  For the past six months, Amy had been having weekly counselling sessions. She knew she didn’t have any “issues” and that her parents were wasting money on this doctor who could do with a bit of analysing herself, judging by the multicoloured psychedelic dresses she wore.

  Amy’s one sanctuary from the overprotection was her best friend, Becca. If it wasn’t for Becca’s visits, she felt sure she’d have been driven insane by her parents and their overanxious ways that stemmed from their own guilt.

  After her mother left the room, Amy looked at Becca apologetically. ‘Sorry about that. My mum can be rude at times. My parents are so concerned about my well-being that they often forget how to treat me or my friends well.’ She laughed dryly.

  Becca twirled a lock of brown hair around her fingers. ‘Let’s go to the park. It’s a nice day; the weatherman said it would hit 30 degrees.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Amy, feeling odd, realising that this would be the first time she and Becca had gone outside together. Becca usually visited her at home and they stayed in her room to chat and play. Amy’s mother constantly told her that it was dangerous for young girls to play outside; she warned of monsters lurking around corners, or in the back of cars and vans, waiting to devour passing children. Perhaps the visits to Dr. Grube were paying off, because when Becca suggested going outside, Amy had not broken out in a cold sweat.

  Taking a deep breath, Amy walked towards her bedroom door, feeling a sense of freedom; as though she were breaking out of a cocoon of fear. The furthest she had ventured outdoors lately, was to her parents’ car for her trips to see Dr. Grube.

  Amy was home-schooled. Her parents didn’t want to send her to the local school. They said she would meet the wrong people and pick up bad habits. When she complained that she wouldn’t make any friends if she stayed at home, her parents bought her a dog. Jinx was a cute and energetic puppy. Amy was happy to have him, and for a while her feelings of loneliness were forgotten. Her parents would only let her play with the puppy in the back garden. One morning, when he was just two years old, Amy had found Jinx shivering in his kennel. He appeared unwell. Her father took him to the vet and returned empty handed. Jinx was suffering from pneumonia and the vet wanted to keep him in the surgery under observation. A phone call the next day confirmed that the puppy had died. Amy was inconsolable. She blamed her parents for not letting Jinx sleep indoors. The snow had been covering Jinx’s kennel for over a week before he fell ill.

  She locked herself in her bedroom and then the pattern began, where she would spend most of her time alone. Around that time, Becca came into her life. Becca didn’t think she was crazy, in fact, she’d once told her she thought her parents were the crazy ones. She was thankful for Becca; a lifeline to her sanity.

  Amy went into the kitchen, where her mother sat at the table reading a novel.

  ‘Mum, I’m going out.’

  A gasp from her mother relayed her shock and surprise at the news.

  Amy turned away towards the front door and began walking briskly.

  ‘Wait! Amy!’

  Amy stopped walking, but continued to stare at the front door as if it were an escape route, longing to reach it before the invisible but powerful reigns could stop her. ‘Me and Becca are going out,’ she said, resolutely, to the door.

  ‘But, you’re not well, honey.’ Her mother was beside her now, holding her shoulder. Her voice sounded patronising to Amy who longed to break free from this strangulating hold her mother had on her.

  Amy looked at Becca who smiled back at her. This gave her the courage to reply: ‘I’m going out. It’s my birthday and I’m going to spend it with my friend.’

  ‘But your father and I—’

  ‘I want to be with Becca today.’ Her eyes were now brimming with tears.

  Her mother rubbed her back and said, ‘Becca can come with us. There’ll be chocolate cake.’

  ‘I’m not a child!’ came Amy’s sharp response.

  ‘You’re only 12 years old, Amy, of course you’re a child,’ said her mother, gently, one hand remaining on her back.

  Amy shrugged free from her mother and looked at her friend who stood twiddling her hair. Why wasn’t Becca standing up for her? It had been Becca’s idea that they go to the park. ‘Why aren’t you saying anything?’ Amy stared accusingly at her friend.

  Becca turned away.

  ‘What do you want me to say, honey?’ asked her mother.

  ‘I wasn’t talking to you!’ said Amy, a tear escaping from her eye.

  ‘Calm down. Your father will be back from work soon and we’ll go to dinner.’

  Amy looked daggers at her mother, and when she turned back she saw that Becca had already left. Regret coursed through her veins; she wished she hadn’t snapped at her. It wasn’t Becca’s fault. Her heart hollow, she worried that Becca might not want to be her friend anymore.

  Amy began to cry, and soon felt surprised to find that she was not swimming in an ocean of her own tears. Where did all the tears go when they fell? They were gone; seemingly dissolved on the way from her eyes to her cheeks. Some had slipped into her mouth. She knew because of the salty taste they had left behind. Her mother was cradling her; rocking her. When Amy lifted herself up, she saw that her mother’s shirt was wet where her face had been pressed against it; stained with tears. A reminder of the pain.

  She stood up, unable to look into her mother’s eyes.

  ‘Darling, stay here with me for a while. Let’s talk,’ her mother said, seeming reluctant to let go of her arm.

  ‘I’m going upstairs,’ she replied. As she said it, a blackness enshrouded her. She didn’t want to go back up there, to that room where she was always alone. She wanted to run free, to get away. So, she did. Darting out of the front door, as if a starter pistol had sounded, she ran and ran, and she kept on running. A feeling of liberation took over and brought peace to her troubled mind. She heard her mother’s screams behind her, fading. Soon, they were too distant to be heard.

  Amy woke up in hospital. She had collapsed after running for quite some time, and was almost run over by a car. There had been much whispering between the doctors and her parents before they let her go home. Frustration overwhelmed her: Why won’t anyone tell me anything? I’m not a child!

  Her mother looked at her as if she had run out of words. Neither of her parents spoke to her in the car. The silence was absolute.

  When they arrived home, her father said, ‘Amy, we don’t know what to do for the best. Dr. Grube will be coming to see you this week. She’ll know what to do.’ Doubt flickered in his eyes.

  A few days later, Amy was in her bedroom when there was a knock at the door. She hoped it was Becca. She hadn’t seen her since the evening of the accident.

  Dr. Grube opened the door and entered the bedroom as if she had been there a hundred times before, when in reality she had never visited Amy at home. Amy didn’t like the way Dr. Grube was looking around the room, as if she were searching for signs that a mentally disturbed individual inhabited this place. Before she even sat down, Dr. Grube took out her pen and jotted something down in
her notebook, which seemed to be glued to her hand as Amy had never seen her without it.

  The doctor smiled briefly at her and then sat on the pink armchair in the corner of the room. ‘Hello, Amy. How do you feel today?’

  ‘Fine,’ she replied. The good old word that could be used in place of all and any other true feelings. She found herself wishing hard that Becca would turn up, so that she wouldn’t have to be here alone.

  ‘I understand it was your birthday last week,’ said Dr. Grube. Leaning over, she reached into her briefcase pulling out a red parcel tied with a bright pink bow. She stood up, walked towards the bed, and handed it to Amy along with an envelope. ‘Happy birthday!’ she said, brightly.

  Amy took the gift and card, unsure how to react. She had not expected to receive anything from the doctor. Their relationship had always been very distant, stifled, and uncomfortable. Dr. Grube had hardly shown any real human emotions in all the time she’d known her, and Amy always resented the way she tried to delve into the deepest reaches of her mind. ‘Thank you,’ she managed to say eventually, almost under her breath.

  Dr. Grube returned to the pink armchair and sat down. ‘Now, Amy,’ she began, ‘tell me how you are feeling.’

  Amy looked at the birthday present. She wanted to know what was inside, but it appeared that the doctor had now reverted to formal mode. Her face was full of concern, reminding Amy that this was not a social visit.

  Amy cleared her throat. ‘Um... I’m fine.’

  ‘Let’s talk about the day of your birthday. Why did you run away? Are you able to tell me?’

  Amy recalled the claustrophobia that had enveloped her and the way she had sensed a freedom as she escaped the confines of the house. She had met up with Becca at the end of the road, and they had played a game. They ran along the street, trying to stay on the narrow kerb, running in a straight line. The road was busy, and as it became darker they used the lights of the passing cars as a guide. She remembered Becca running ahead of her, laughing at her because she could not keep up.

  ‘Amy? Are you okay?’

  Dr. Grube’s voice roused her from her memories; it was as if she had been lost back in time.

  ‘I’m fine,’ said Amy again.

  ‘Tell me about when you ran away. Where did you go?’

  ‘I was with Becca.’

  ‘Oh.’ Dr. Grube frowned and made another note in her little book. ‘When was the last time you saw Becca?’ she asked.

  ‘That was the last time I saw her.’ Amy recalled the last words she had heard from her friend’s mouth, before she fell into the road in front of the car: ‘I don’t want to be friends with someone who can’t even run properly!’ Amy pursed her lips as she wondered whether Becca had meant it when she said that. She realised, as if for the first time, that Becca had not visited her in the hospital, or even tried to find out if she was okay. What sort of a friend was she to abandon her when she was almost killed?

  ‘Good.’ Dr. Grube’s voice invaded her tangled thoughts. ‘Well, we seem to be making some progress, Amy.’

  Here we go again, thought Amy. Dr. Grube was always trying to get her to stop seeing Becca.

  ‘This is a very positive step,’ continued the psychiatrist. ‘It shows that you are letting go and moving forward on your own. It could be that the trauma of the near-miss car accident has given you the wake up call you needed.’

  The pink and orange swirly pattern on Dr. Grube’s dress was causing Amy’s eyes to cross, so she turned away.

  ‘I think you are letting go of Becca, finally.’

  ‘Letting go of Becca?’ You don’t even know Becca! She wanted to scream at Dr. Grube. The doctor was for ever telling her that her friendship with Becca was unhealthy and that Becca didn’t really care about her well-being. Perhaps Dr. Grube thought the more she repeated it the more chance she had of making her believe it, but Amy always thought Dr. Grube was trying to brainwash her. She had always rebelled against the doctor’s words, believing that her parents had somehow conspired with her to try to get rid of the one and only friend she had, so they could keep her locked up here like some prized possession.

  Amy shifted uncomfortably on her bed. She stared curiously at the unopened birthday present. As she did so, some part of her mind woke up as if the red gift wrap was a beacon guiding her. Momentarily, her feelings of anger towards the doctor—and even her parents—lifted. She thought again about the last time she’d seen Becca. Where has she been for the past few days? Why hasn’t she come to see me? Could the doctor have been right about her all along?

  ‘I think it’s about time I told you the truth about Becca,’ said Dr. Grube.

  Amy wrinkled her brow. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You know how you’re always reminding me that you are not a child anymore?’ The doctor laughed.

  Amy blushed slightly and looked at her hands.

  ‘Well, guess what?’ continued Dr. Grube. ‘I think that’s true. The truth about Becca... I think you’re grown up enough to hear it. You see, you needed her when you felt isolated, because of your circumstances. It’s a good sign that she’s disappeared now. She only existed in your mind... In your imagination.’

  ‘What are you saying? She’s not real? But...’

  ‘You are growing up, Amy. You are letting go of your childhood imaginary friend. You are breaking free.’

  Amy could only gape in disbelief.

  ‘Aren’t you going to open your present?’ asked Dr. Grube, snapping Amy out of her trancelike state.

  The red package looked blurry in Amy’s vision, her eyes now full of unshed tears. In her heart, she felt a sense of loss. Becca’s whole identity had been proclaimed null and void, all the times they had spent together were unreal. It was too much to take in. She lifted up the gift-wrapped package.

  ‘Read the card first,’ said Dr. Grube, appearing as excited as a small child on Christmas morning.

  Amy carefully placed the package on her bed and lifted up the yellow envelope. She opened it and saw a pretty pink card with the number 12 on it. Fancy calligraphy wished her a “Happy Birthday”. Amy‘s brow furrowed. She felt anything but happy at the moment. Sighing, she opened the card and read Dr.Grube’s message. “Today is the start of a new beginning, the marking of a new year in your life. Time to leave behind anything that is no longer of value.” Becca, thought Amy, a tear fell from her eye and made the ink on the card run.

  Dr. Grube picked up the birthday gift and handed it to her.

  Amy fumbled with the pink ribbon, feeling awkward. All she wanted was for Dr. Grube to go away, so she could cry in peace. As she tore away the gift wrap, she saw a book, titled: “Saying Good-bye to Karen” by Philippa Grube.

  ‘I used to have an imaginary friend,’ said the doctor. ‘Her name was Karen. When I was slightly older than you, I wrote a book about her. She’ll always be in my memory, and Becca will always be in yours.’

  ‘Y... You wrote this?’ Amy stuttered.

  ‘Yes. I know why we create imaginary friends. It’s partly because we think we are all alone and we need someone to listen to us.’

  Amy flicked through the brightly coloured pages.

  ‘I hope my book will teach you that you are never alone, Amy.’

  Amy stared in wonder at the psychiatrist, and even began to think that maybe her dress was quite pretty after all. Now I really am going crazy, she thought to herself, as a smile curled on her lips.

  ***

  About The Author:

  Maria Savva is a lawyer and author from London. She travels on the London Underground by day and then, by night, writes stories about the people she sees on there... Of course, her imagination likes to add a little extra. You can read excerpts and find links to purchase her stories, by visiting her website: https://www.mariasavva.com.

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  Beyond the Green Hills

  by Tom Gahan

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� Copyright Tom Gahan 2011. All rights reserved.