Phantom Friend

He had always been there, sitting beside Malcolm at the table and watching over his shoulder as his infant brain attempted multiplication.

The adults didn't mind back then: many children had invisible friends. But Malcolm was now 46, had three failed marriages, five children and one heart attack, probably brought on by his second divorce. Perhaps it was because of his phantom friend that he survived them all. Archie, invisible to everyone else, was his support and true soul mate.

No longer able to admit that he had a secret companion in the grown-up world, Malcolm became more and more dependent on the one friend he could talk to - though obviously not out loud. A dodgy heart was one thing, premature senility quite another.

There were moments of weakness when Malcolm wondered whether Archie should be confined to those other immature fantasies most young people dispense with at puberty. Giving him up, though, would have been worse than going without a cigarette. If it hadn't been for Archie he would still be smoking. When Malcolm needed him most, there he was, mirroring every thought like a doppelgänger, counselling and reassuring him.

This friend surely could not have been the creation of an infant's subconscious because, as Malcolm grew, so had Archie. Why hadn't his boyhood fantasy dreamt up someone more dashing, like a Victorian cavalry officer. (He had always been fascinated by them.) A perfect, bewhiskered gentleman, softly spoken with an archaic accent that could have only sprung from the pages of a Victorian edition of Punch, resplendent with plumed helmet and dangerously sharp sword.

But Archie was not the heroic type, very much like the person who had dreamt him up.

Malcolm sometimes wished, as he strolled with Penny, his Labrador, and in secret conversation with Archie that his phantom friend did wear a cavalry uniform and had a horse which he cared for like a high society wife. But Archie was far too open-minded to be that sort of Victorian, and his beliefs encompassed all religions with a degree of tolerance that made him and Malcolm such like minds. It was simply personal relationships he had problems with.

Then, one day, sitting on the fallen log that was his regular seat, Malcolm opened the treats he always gave his Labrador at that point.

But this time Archie reached out to take some.

Without thinking, Malcolm dropped some chocolate drops into his palm.

Archie offered them to Penny, who took him from his hand.

Malcolm suddenly realised what had happened.

The dog had no way of knowing Archie was only a phantom and chewed enthusiastically.

Malcolm nearly toppled from the log, but regained his balance in time. During a lifetime of being boon companions, it had never occurred to him to reach out and touch Archie. Malcolm’s subconscious knew that he really wasn't there, so why would he?

He slowly extended his hand and laid it on the soft fabric of Archie’s shirt. It felt like silk.

Malcolm must have been having a stroke. But Penny was unlikely to be sharing the same hallucination.

Archie remained unfazed at the empathic bond engulfing them.

‘Just who are you?’ murmured Malcolm.

‘My name is really Alex, but I much prefer Archie.’

Why, after all these years, had Archie waited to reveal his true nature?

‘There is a letter waiting for you. It will explain,’ Archie said.

How could anyone else know about the secret companion Malcolm had never mentioned to another living soul?

But they did.

Aunt Veronica, older sister of Malcolm's long dead mother, had at last gone back to the great maker she so fervently believed in as a devout Christian. She was determined that some truths should never remain buried, and had decided that her nephew had the right to know what had been kept from him since birth.

He apparently had an identical twin who only survived long enough to be christened.

His name was Alex.

As Malcolm read her letter, he became aware that his lifelong companion was no longer there. Like Eve’s apple, knowledge had robbed him of the innocence that kept Archie alive.