Hide & Seek

Chapter 7
Playing Dress-Up

Chapter Description: Abbie goes shopping and makes a new acquaintance.

VII

After two days guarding a sensational secret from her naturally inquisitive parents, the cool quiet of the Pumpkin Patch felt luxurious to Abbie.

With two hours to burn before meeting Ben, Abbie had taken her rust-bucket Holden to the children’s clothing shop to pick up some new outfits for John. Standing in the air-conditioned shop, with no other customers or pushy sales assistants, she slides her sunnies up onto her head and examines the selection of little boys’ cotton tanks and printed board shorts, polo shirts and tees.

Nothing babyish, John had begged her, and most of this seems okay, with designs incorporating beach scenes or wild animals. Cute enough, but not a teddy bear in sight. It should stop John whingeing, for a while at least.

Abbie contemplates the likelihood of Ben puzzling out how to return John to adulthood in the short-term, and decides to buy five outfits. Enough for a week. Let’s be honest, enough for all summer. Ben, an old flame and a bright spark, would be willing and able to do Abbie a favour, but replicating an age progression serum sounded (in broad daylight and away from John’s desperate hoping) like maybe one miracle too far.

Ben didn’t know anything yet - just a lunch date between two people who had firmly agreed to remain, after everything, good friends. Abbie would have to tell Ben about the London nursery and her newly-acquired heroine status. She would have to tell him everything in the slim hope that he could help. And just like that, she would owe him a favour and be up to her sweet neck in Ben again.

And where did that leave John, in any case? If Ben’s chemistry kit could actually pull it off, what will John be like as a grown-up? Abbie smiles. Less cute, but also less of a sook, hopefully, in his adult form. And did they have something? She had felt an emotional pull on the plane, but how much was that the product of a shared dash across the world, and was it affection for a little boy or a man? Friends had told her, before she’d left for London armed with a two-year work permit, she’d be swept off her feet by a bloke with bad teeth and worse attitude, get stuck in grubby ol’ England. But she hadn’t expected to get involved with a seven-year-old.

To be back in Mairangi Bay after just a month of her English adventure. It was embarrassing, after all she’d skited to any friend who’d listen about the time she was having, to pretend she’d missed home after all and grabbed the first chance to come back. It sounded hollow coming out of her mouth, and it was depressing how easily her parents had bought it. She was back at square one and her only souvenir was a man trapped in a child’s body.

Abbie adds a final tee with a less than ferocious tiger on the chest to the pile and counts up the items of clothing she’s collected. (She hopes John won’t mind the Ben Ten motif on two of the shirts; it had to be better than SpongeBob.) That’ll do. Yeah, she’ll do what she does, she’ll get on with it, she won’t fall apart because of a tiny obstacle like an age regression conspiracy.

Abbie walks over to the cash register and groans. An empty shop is fine until you actually want to settle up. There’s no bell to ring. She puts the clothes onto the desk and looks back past the boy’s clothes and then over to the baby’s and girl’s sections. Deserted.

But as Abbie looks past the desk and to the changing rooms, she hears a soft shuffling from somewhere behind her, and she turns to find that she’s not alone after all. Not quite.

Abbie and goes to the back wall of girl’s clothes. ?Hi,’ she says, and laughs. ?How’s it going mate?’

She looks down at the soft grey toy elephant, four stubby legs and a proud trunk, as it plods towards her. It looks old-fashioned, clockwork, but Abbie can’t see a turn-key.

She walks forward and bends down, picks it up and looks at the elephant’s dull grey face. She whispers, ?It’s just you and me, you know. We could have a party.’

Abbie is more than used to having conversations with soft toys after two weeks working at a nursery school. As it turns out, it’s even easier to talk to them when there’s no one else around.

Abbie turns the animal over in her hands and finds a black plastic switch on its belly. ?Some little sprog left you behind, didn’t they? Probably kicking up a stink on the drive home by now.’ Upside-down, the elephant’s legs continue to waddle back and forth. ?Should probilly...probably switch you off, save your batteries.’

But as she cradles the toy, she’s finds herself unwilling to flick the switch and be alone again. She strokes the toy animal’s fur, amazed at how anyone could forget it. There’s something about this particular toy, this sombre-looking elephant.

?You’re very soft, Mr Elephant. Can I call you that? Is that cool? I’m guessing you’re a boy elephant.’ She notices dimly that she’s adopted a little-girl voice, as if she’s stepped back fifteen years and is addressing one of her dolls, as if she’s fallen through a trap door into a world of make-believe. A few more characters and she could have a tea party; the thought makes her laugh out loud.

And it’s now that Abbie realises the elephant isn’t just walking the walk, it’s talking the talk. A soft murmuring that makes its sides vibrate, just a little, almost ticklish in Abbie’s hands. She smiles; she can’t quite make out what Mr Elephant is saying, but then she understands, of course she can. Clear as crystal.

?Okay, Mr Elephant, I’ll take a look. Although I don’t think the Pumpkin Patch will have anything in my thize...size.’ She kicks off her jandals so she can enjoy the cool floor, then walks along the aisle of younger girls clothes, and feels a growing affection for the collection of gingham peasant tops and matching hair ties, appliqu?d capris, print dresses, cuffed shorts. Why don’t grown-ups wear such pretty clothes? Abbie looks at her own jeans and Gap tee, relics from her fast-fading London past, and feels...silly.

That’s the word. Mr Elephant is right; she’s just so silly. She’d look right in one of these outfits, but they’re for little girls. They’re for...Abbie gasps as she finds a much larger outfit at the end of the aisle - a powder blue stretch top with an elephant just like Mr. Elephant on the front, only he’s smiling, smiling right at her, and there’s a matching printed skirt.

And when Abbie does as she’s told, when she holds the stretch top to herself, she squeals at the discovery that it’s in her size. Abbie nods enthusiastically at another tickle from the toy elephant, more whispered advice, and then takes the outfit to the changing rooms.

Her fingers are clumsier than usual, numb, as if she’s been sitting on her hands. They don’t seem to want to do as they’re told. But Abbie knows that she’s more than old enough to dress herself and eventually she’s changed into the new outfit. She looks into the full-length mirror and grins, picking up the stuffed toy and clutching it to her chest. She cries out, ?It’s so pretty, Mr Edder...Elephant! How did you know?’

How funny, how wonderfully funny.

Abbie gives herself a big smile. She can wear her new outfit to lunch with Ben, he’s sure to think she looks good now.

Forgetting about paying, her adult responsibilities coming a poor second to the joys of a powder-blue stretch top and matching skirt, Abbie marches out of the cubicle and back into the store, and is startled to find a lady standing just a few feet away and holding a pair of red toddler’s overalls. Abbie isn’t alone after all and some of the soft edges surrounding her seem to harden as she realises the woman has overheard her conversation with a soft toy.

Bugger.

The woman looks over and smiles. ?Don’t you look adorable. I bet your mummy is going to have such a lovely surprise when she gets her little girl back again.’

Abbie frowns. Her mother already knows she’s back home. The lady has a funny lilt to her voice, alien and familiar at the same time. It might not be real, perhaps it belongs to a dream Abbie had.

Abbie wrinkles her nose. ?I don’t know you.’

?But I know you, Abbie,’ the lady replies, ?I know just what you like. You love your new clothes, don’t you, so sweet and innocent.’

Abbie looks at the elephant top and skirt, her Mr Elephant clothes, and those hard edges don’t last for long. Not when she’s holding such a lovely elephant, one that whispers at her, tickles her hands and the inside of her head, leaving her smiling, leaving her grinning like a four-year-old on her birthday.

But the lady’s voice. She’s not from here, she’s from a long way away. Abbie thinks hard, as hard as doing sums, and then Abbie puts the elephant down on the shelf and looks straight at the lady, a question suddenly appearing full-formed in her mind. ?What are you doing here?’

?Hmm?’ The lady waves the overalls. ?I was just picking up some things for Johnny.’

Abbie stares at the lady, incredulous, then snorts laughter into her hands. ?But those’re baby clothes! Johnny’s a big boy. He’s...’ She counts on her fingers. ?He’s seven.’

The lady raises an eyebrow. ?Really? Well I expect a big boy like Johnny is at school.’

?Yeah.’

?And who’s at home right now, sweetie?’

Abbie ponders the question, a finger in her mouth. ?Ummm...no one. Mum is at work.’

?Anyone else?’

?No, Rowan’s at camp.’

?Rowan?’

?My little brother.’ Although now that Abbie thought about it, she wasn’t sure whether Rowan was younger or older than her. She tries to cover her confusion with more information. ?He’s at camp all week and dad is with him.’

The lady seems impressed. ?That sounds like fun.’

Abbie shrugs her shoulders. She gazes down at Mr. Elephant who, she realises, still has plenty to say in his silky-soft voice.

The lady says, ?Let’s get you home so we can give Johnny a surprise. He won’t be expecting me.’

Abbie nods enthusiastically. She has always preferred surprises when she’s on the right side. Then a piece of the puzzle clicks into place, feeling like a foreign object in her mind. ?Ohhhh...I do know you...you’re Johnny’s...wife?’ She giggles, that sounds funny.

The lady laughs too. ?Johnny’s only a little boy, he can’t be married, silly.’

Mr Elephant seems to laugh as well, vibrating a little more in Abbie’s hands.

Silly girl.

Abbie giggles again. ?Ummm...you’re his mum?’

The lady nods. ?That’s right, clever girl! You can call me Valerie.’ She puts the red overalls down. ?These will probably be too grown-up for Johnny anyway.’ She looks Abbie up and down. ?Oh, it’s a shame, Molly Dunn tells me you were settling in so well at the nursery. And to think, they never use temps but that flu-bug left them so short-staffed.’

Abbie frowns. ?I don’t -?

Valerie cuts her off. ?So you tried to return little Johnny to full-size?’ Valerie nods, not waiting for an answer. ?As soon as you left London that antidote was useless, just purple water. It’s the same story with the physical regression treatment - haven’t found a way to transport it yet. I won’t be able to fix Johnny until I get him back to London.’ Valerie gives Abbie another appraising look. ?Fix you too, if I take you.’

Abbie shakes her head nervously and clutches the elephant. ?I don’t need fixin’. I’m...I’m good as gold.’

Valerie smiles. ?I’m sure. No problems with the mental regression device. That’s electrical, just need to remember the double-As. Easy to help people remember their inner child.’

A few plays behind, Abbie nonetheless puts more pieces together and gives a deep frown, what she knows now adding up to a bit of worry. ?I don’t want to see your teddy bear. They make people all silly.’

?That’s okay, sweetie,’ Valerie says with a wave of her hand. ?Teddy only works with Johnny. We have something different for girls.’ She smiles. ?Say, I like your elephant.’

Abbie puts Mr Elephant down on the shelf, feeling like a thief. ?I found him. He doesn’t belong to me,’ she says dejectedly.

?You rescued him, sounds like. You like rescuing defenceless little creatures, don’t you. You could have just worn your special pink pajamas like Miss Dunn asked, that would’ve been so much simpler. Takes a special kind of martyr to fly half-way around the world to rescue a little boy she doesn’t even know.’ Valerie rubs the back of her neck. ?That’s a horrid flight, by the way, I don’t know how you can stand it, especially for a game of hide-and-seek that you couldn’t possibly win.’

Abbie blinks. ?What’s a mar-tur?’

?But you tried, Abbie. That’s what matters. I’m actually very proud of you.’

Abbie beams. Yes, proud...but then she remembers she’s in trouble, must be, for taking Johnny away from his mother. Why did she do that? Ben would know, he’s so clever, and it’s a shame he’s not here now. Abbie shuffles from foot to foot, tempted to suck on her thumb or maybe Mr Elephant’s fuzzy grey ear. She shakes her head, trying to clear the cobwebs. Don’t be a cry-baby, don’t be a sook.

Valerie closes the distance between them and gives Abbie a hug. ?No hard feelings, sweetie. Now, be a good girl and tell me where the special purple liquid is.’

Abbie says, ?In the car.’ In her car. And there’s something wonderful and terrible about that.

?Have you told anyone about it?’ Valerie’s voice, warm in Abbie’s ear, carries a first note of impatience.

?No,’ Abbie says truthfully, thinking of Ben waiting for her at the restaurant. He’ll be angry if she’s late, and Abbie hopes that he’ll still want to play with her.

?Good girl.’ Valerie gives Abbie a final squeeze then smiles at her. ?You’re such a sweetheart, would you like to come to London with Johnny and me?’

Abbie looks at Valerie, then down at herself, her blue top and patterned skirt. Her skin feels like it’s crawling, the fluffy feelings in her mind are fading. She looks back at Mr Elephant. She should pick him back up, but first of all her mouth opens and she says, ?I don’t wanna go to London. It’s all cold and grey and...I wanna stay with my mummy and daddy.’

Abbie feels the top of her head, and her sunnies fall back onto her nose, making her laugh, making her half-way real again. ?And I don’t think Johnny wants to go either.’

A tinted Valerie gives Abbie a cool smile. ?Johnny’s just a little boy. He needs to go back to nursery and play with his toys. He needs to be with his mummy.’

Abbie backs away. ?I don’t think Johnny wants to go,’ she says again. ?I better go home.’

?Don’t you want to try on more outfits? I have something else here that will fit you, darling, some lovely fluffy pink pajamas. Don’t you want to try them on like a good girl?’

?No,’ Abbie lies. ?I need to go home.’ She walks back along the aisle in her bare feet, away from Valerie and towards the door. She has to get out of here. Driving sounds hysterical, impossible, but she can walk home, she knows the way, she’s not a baby. She needs to get home, she’s supposed to rescue Johnny from his mother, even though the idea sounds absurd in her mind. Abbie thinks of her own mother and knows that she couldn’t possibly want to run away from her. But Johnny’s mother is different. There’s something not right about her. She looks back, not wanting to sound rude. ?Thank you for the clothes,’ she says slowly. ?I’m going home now.’

Abbie’s hand is on the door-handle but Valerie is quick for a grown-up, she catches up easily and there’s something familiar in her hands.

Valerie smiles. ?Good-bye, Abbie. But don’t forget your elephant.’

Abbie looks at Mr Elephant as Valerie holds him out to her.

?He’s ever so soft, Abbie, don’t you want to take him with you?’

Abbie pauses, takes off her sunglasses to get a better look at the toy. ?I better not...he makes me feel funny.’ She looks down at the matching elephant on her new stretch top and frowns. She’ll look silly if she wears her new outfit without Mr Elephant, they obviously go together. But he makes her feel so funny. She shakes her head regretfully. ?I better leave him here.’

Valerie’s face takes on a mournful expression. ?I don’t think we can leave him in the shop, Abbie. He’ll get lonely. I’d take him but I don’t know how to look after elephants. I bet you do, a clever girl like you.’

Abbie shrugs, knowing that yes, of course she could look after Mr Elephant. But there’s a good reason why she shouldn’t. Her face feels too warm, even the relative cool of the shop; she could do with a wet flannel, she could do with an ice-cold shower.

?You wouldn’t want him to be sad, would you?’ Valerie holds out the soft grey toy. ?Poor little elephant, all by himself.’

Abbie shakes her head, tears threatening to appear. She pushes up her sunglasses and rubs at her eyes. The longer she stands here with the lady, the more confused she becomes, torn between an essential escape and letting Mr Elephant tingle in her hands and tell her wonderful stories.

Abbie whines desperately, ?But he’s just a toy.’ She opens the door and looks out into the street, heat from outside blowing on her face. And then she smiles, as the bright sunshine mercifully burns away the foggy doubt in her mind and makes her decision wonderfully simple.

To Be Continued...