The front door banged shut and she heard the patter of little feet running down the hall.
‘Luke!’ she called, putting her hand over the receiver.
‘Yeah?’ he asked innocently, blue eyes and blond hair appearing round the doorpost.
‘Yes, not yeah,’ Elizabeth corrected him sternly. Her voice was full of the authority she had become a pro at over the years.
‘Yes,’ he repeated.
‘What are you doing?’
Luke stepped into the hall and Elizabeth’s eyes immediately went to his grass-stained knees.
‘Me and Ivan are just playing the computer,’ he explained.
‘Ivan and I,’ she corrected him, and continued listening to Marie at the other end of the phone arranging to send a garda car out. Luke looked at his aunt and returned to the playroom.
‘Hold on a minute,’ Elizabeth shouted down the phone, finally registering what Luke had just told her. She jumped up from her chair, bumping the table leg and spilling her espresso onto the glass. She swore. The black wrought-iron legs of the chair screeched against the marble. Holding the phone to her chest, she raced down the long hall to the playroom. She tucked her head round the corner and saw Luke sitting on the floor, eyes glued to the TV screen. Here and his bedroom were the only rooms in the house she allowed his toys. Taking care of a child had not succeeded in changing her as many thought it would; he hadn’t softened her views in any way. She had visited many of Luke’s friends’ houses, picking him up or dropping him off, so full of toys lying around, they tripped up everyone who dared walk in their path. She reluctantly had cups of coffee with the mothers while sitting on teddies, surrounded by bottles, formula and nappies. But not in her home. Edith had been told the rules at the beginning of their working relationship and she had followed them. As Luke grew up and understood his aunt’s ways, he obediently respected her wishes and contained his playing to the one room she had dedicated to his needs.
‘Luke, who’s Ivan?’ Elizabeth asked, eyes darting around the room. ‘You know you can’t be bringing strangers home,’ she said, worried.
‘He’s my new friend,’ he replied, zombie-like, not moving his eyes from the beefed-up wrestler body-slamming his opponent on the screen.
‘You know I insist on meeting your friends first before you bring them home. Where is he?’ Elizabeth questioned, pushing open the door and stepping into Luke’s space. She hoped to God that this friend would be better than the last little terror who had decided to draw a picture of his happy family in magic marker on her wall, which had since been painted over.
‘Over there.’ Luke nodded his head in the direction of the window, still not budging his eyes.
Elizabeth walked towards the window and looked out at the front garden. She crossed her arms. ‘Is he hiding?’
Luke pressed Pause on his computer keypad and finally moved his eyes away from the two wrestlers on the screen. His face crinkled in confusion. ‘He’s right there!’ He pointed at the beanbag at Elizabeth’s feet.
Elizabeth’s eyes widened as she stared at the beanbag. ‘Where?’
‘Right there,’ he repeated.
Elizabeth blinked back at him. She raised her arms questioningly.
‘Beside you, on the beanbag.’ Luke’s voice became louder with anxiety. He stared at the yellow corduroy beanbag as though willing his friend to appear.
Elizabeth followed his gaze.
‘See him?’ He dropped the control pad and stood up quickly.
This was followed by a tense silence in which Elizabeth could feel Luke’s hatred for her emanating from his body. She could tell what he was thinking: why couldn’t she just see him, why couldn’t she just play along just this once, why couldn’t she ever pretend? She swallowed the lump in her throat and looked around the room to see if she really was missing his friend in some way. Nothing.
She leaned down to be on an even level with him and her knees cracked. ‘There’s no one else but you and me in this room,’ she whispered softly. Somehow saying it quietly made it easier. Easier for herself or Luke, she didn’t know.
Luke’s cheeks flushed and his chest heaved faster. He stood in the centre of the room, surrounded by computer keypad wires, with his little hands down by his side, looking helpless. Elizabeth’s heart hammered in her chest as she silently begged, please do not be like your mother, please do not be like your mother. She knew only too well how the world of fantasy could steal you away.
Finally Luke exploded and, staring into space, demanded, ‘Ivan, say something to her!’
There was a silence as he looked into space and then giggled hysterically. He looked back at Elizabeth and his smile quickly faded when he noticed her lack of response. ‘Do you not see him?’ he squealed nervously. Then, more angrily, repeated, ‘Why don’t you see him?’
‘OK, OK!’ Elizabeth tried not to panic. She stood back up to her own level. A level where she had control. She couldn’t see him and her brain refused to let her pretend. She wanted to get out of the room quickly. She lifted her leg to step over the beanbag and stopped herself, instead choosing to walk round it. Once at the door, she glanced around one last time to see if she could spot the mystery Ivan. No sign.
Luke shrugged, sat down and continued playing his wrestling game.
‘I’m putting some pizza on now, Luke.’
Silence. What else should she say? It was at moments like this she realised that reading all the parenting manuals in the world never helped. Good parenting came from the heart, was instinctive, and not for the first time she worried she was letting Luke down.
‘It will be ready in twenty minutes,’ she finished awkwardly.
‘What?’ Luke pressed Pause again and faced the window.
‘I said it will be ready in twen—’
‘No, not you,’ Luke said, once again being sucked into the world of video games. ‘Ivan would like some too. He said pizza is his favourite.’
‘Oh.’ Elizabeth swallowed helplessly.
‘With olives,’ Luke continued.
‘But, Luke, you hate olives.’
‘Yeah, but Ivan loves them. He says they’re his favourite.’
‘Oh…’
‘Thanks,’ Luke said to his aunt, looked to the beanbag, gave the thumbs-up, smiled, then looked away again.
Elizabeth slowly backed out of the playroom. She realised she was still holding the phone to her chest. ‘Marie, are you still there?’ She chewed on her nail and stared at the closed playroom door, wondering what to do.
‘I thought you’d gone off to the moon as well. I was about to send a car over to your house too,’ Marie chuckled.
Marie mistook Elizabeth’s silence for anger and apologised quickly. ‘Anyway, you were right, Saoirse was headed to the moon but luckily she decided to stop off on the way to refuel. Refuelling herself, more like. Your car was found blocking the main street with the engine still running and the driver’s door wide open. You’re lucky Paddy found it when he did before someone took off with it.’
‘Let me guess. The car was outside the pub.’
‘Correct.’ Marie paused. ‘Do you want to press charges?’
Elizabeth