he hissing of the water overflowing from the pot onto the cooker's surface brought Elizabeth sharply back to the present. She raced across the kitchen to lift the pot off the hob and lowered the heat. She poked at the steamed chicken and vegetables, wondering where her head was today.

"Luke, dinner," Elizabeth called.

She had collected Luke from her father's after work, although she had been in absolutely no mood to drive down that road after sobbing in her office. She hadn't cried in years. She didn't know what was happening to her over the last few days, her mind just kept drifting and she never drifted. She always had such stable, controlled thoughts. Nothing at all like her behavior today at the office.

Luke shuffled into the kitchen already dressed in his Spider-Man pajamas. He stared sadly at the table. "You didn't set a place for Ivan again."

Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest, but stopped herself in time, remembering the advice the Web sites had given. "Oh, didn't I?"

Luke looked at her in surprise.

"Sorry, Ivan," she said, taking out a third plate. What a waste of food, she thought, spooning broccoli, cauliflower, and potatoes onto his plate. "I'm sure he doesn't like chicken, so this will have to do." She placed the plate of leftover vegetables down opposite her.

Luke shook his head. "No, he said he really does like chicken." "Let me guess," Elizabeth said, cutting a corner off her own, "chicken's his favorite."

Luke smiled. "He says it's his favorite kind of poultry."

"Right." Elizabeth rolled her eyes. She watched Ivan's plate, wondering how on earth Luke was going to manage to eat a second plate of vegetables. It was difficult enough trying to get him to eat his own vegetables.

"Ivan said he had fun in your office today," Luke said, forking broccoli into his mouth, chewing quickly and making a face in disgust. He swallowed quickly and gulped back some milk.

"Did he?" Elizabeth smiled. "What was so fun about my office?"

"He liked the chair-spinning," he replied as he speared a baby potato.

Elizabeth stopped chewing and stared at Luke. "What do you mean?"

Luke popped the potato into his mouth and munched. "He says spinning around in Poppy's chair is his favorite."

Elizabeth for once ignored the fact that he was speaking with his mouth full. "Did you speak to Poppy today?" Luke loved Poppy and sometimes called to chat to her when Edith called the office to check a detail with Elizabeth. He knew Elizabeth's office number by heart—she had insisted he learn it as soon as he learned his numbers—so it was quite possible he might have called, missing his little chats with her while Edith was away. That must have been it, she thought, relieved.

"Nope."

"Did you speak to Becca?"

"Nope."

The chicken suddenly tasted like cardboard in her mouth. She swallowed it quickly and put down her knife and fork. She watched Luke eat, lost in thought. Ivan's plate went untouched, unsurprisingly. "Did you speak to Saoirse today?" She studied his face. She wondered if Saoirse's little roleplay in her office earlier had anything to do with Luke's new obsession with Ivan. Knowing Saoirse, she would have continued to taunt her, had she found out about an invisible friend.

"Nope."

Perhaps it was just a coincidence. Perhaps Luke was just guessing about the chair-spinning. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. Where had all her certainties suddenly gone?

"Don't play with your vegetables, Luke. Ivan told me to tell you that they are good for you." She might as well use the Ivan situation to her advantage.

Luke started laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"Ivan says that all mums use him to make their kids eat vegetables." Elizabeth raised her eyebrows and smiled. "Well, you can tell Ivan that's because mums know best." Her smile faded; well some mums at least. "Tell him yourself." Luke giggled.

"Right, then." Elizabeth faced the chair ahead of her. "Where do you come from, Ivan?" She leaned forward and spoke as if addressing a child.

Luke started laughing at her and she felt silly. "He's from Ekam

Eveileb."

It was Elizabeth's turn to laugh. "Oh, really? And where's that?"

"Far, far away," Luke said.

"How far? Like Donegal-far?" She smiled.

Luke shrugged, already bored with the conversation.

"Hey." Elizabeth looked at Luke and laughed. "How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Take a potato from Ivan's plate?" "I didn't." Luke frowned. "Ivan ate it." "Don't be sil—" She stopped herself.

Later that evening, Luke lay on the floor of the living room humming that song while Elizabeth drank a cup of coffee and stared at the television. It was a long time since they had done that. Usually they went their own separate ways after dinner. Usually they didn't talk so much during the meal either, but then usually Elizabeth didn't humor Luke by playing silly games. She began to regret what she had done. She watched Luke coloring with his crayons on the floor. She had put down a mat so that he wouldn't dirty the carpet and although she hated when he played with his toys outside the playroom, she was glad that he was playing with some toys that she could at least see. Every cloud and all that. She turned her attention back to her house makeover show.

"Elizabeth." She felt the tap of a little finger on her shoulder.

"Yes, Luke."

"Drew this for you." He handed her a brightly colored picture. "It's of me and Ivan playing in the garden."

Elizabeth smiled and studied the drawing. Luke had written their names over two matchstick-like men, but what came to her as a surprise was the height of Ivan. He was over twice the size of Luke and was dressed in a blue T-shirt, blue jeans, and blue shoes, and had black hair and great big blue eyes. What looked like black stubble lined his jaw and he held hands with Luke with a big smile on his face. She froze, not quite knowing what to say. Shouldn't his imaginary friend be the same age as he was?

"Eh, Ivan is very tall for only being six, isn't he?" Maybe he had drawn him larger than life because he was so important to him, she reasoned.

Luke rolled around the floor giggling. "Ivan always says there's nothing only about being six and anyway he's not six." He laughed loudly again. "He's old like you!"

Elizabeth's eyes widened in horror. Old like her? What kind of imaginary friend had her nephew created?