Stand By Me: The uplifting and heartbreaking best seller you need to read this year

CHAPTER 2

He was in a small, box-like room without a window. The plastered walls and ceiling were cream: smooth, unmarked and with no fixtures or fittings. A powder-coated white metal door was the only way in or out.

Somehow the room was brightly lit, although this puzzled him, since he could see no obvious light source.

He was sitting at a table in the middle of the room, struggling to grasp how he’d got there or, indeed, where that was. He needed time alone to review his thoughts and memories in order to try and make sense of this. But the man sitting on the other side of the table in the smart black suit and tie, the sort you’d wear to a funeral, kept staring at him and talking.

‘Are you in any discomfort?’ the man asked in a northern English accent. He’d introduced himself earlier, hadn’t he? So why couldn’t he remember his name?

‘Sorry, what was that you just asked me? I don’t seem to be able to, um—’

‘I was asking whether you’re in any pain. Sometimes, when people have been through such a major trauma, there’s a sort of residual … well, yes, discomfort. It usually passes pretty quickly.’

That word pain had thrown him; diverted his mind to unwanted memories. ‘Sorry to be weird,’ he said after taking a moment to regroup his thoughts. ‘I’m struggling to focus. Please could you repeat that once more?’

‘Wait. Bear with me.’ The man picked up a tablet-like device from the table and tapped something into it. He scrutinised the screen, which was directed so that only he could see it, rubbing his light stubble with one hand and nodding his head occasionally. When he looked up, he spoke slowly: ‘You’re disorientated, right? Finding it hard to concentrate?’

He nodded in reply.

‘That can happen, but it should also pass quickly. We need something to ground you. Cup of tea?’

‘Yes, please.’

The man promised to return soon, grabbed his tablet and left through the metal door.

Alone in the room, he found himself tapping his fingers on the table and staring at the floor, which was coated in a shiny grey material with a hard yet rubbery feel underfoot.

His eyes wandered to the metal legs of the oak-effect table and the two brown moulded-plastic seats. They reminded him of school furniture.

But this wasn’t a classroom. It was … somewhere else, the implications of which made him fidgety. His right leg bounced up and down under the table as his mind whirred, fighting to get back up to speed.

CHAPTER 3

THEN

Thursday, 8 August 1991

‘I hate it here!’ Lisa shouted, slamming the door behind her as she stormed out of the house and down the steep concrete driveway.

‘Where are you going?’ her mum’s voice called from an upstairs window.

‘Out,’ she replied without turning back.

She was so angry with her parents right now, she could scream. How could they do this to her? How could they take her away from all her friends at such a crucial time in her life? How could they dump her here – in the middle of nowhere – a boring old village where she didn’t know anyone? It was so unfair.

Lisa had no idea where she was heading. She just needed to get out of that place: the house that wasn’t her home; the bedroom with the manky brown carpet and the awful bright green walls. It was this that had caused the latest row. Jamie, her annoying younger brother, had been winding her up by calling it the Bogey Room. Not once, of course, but over and over again.

‘I could come in here,’ he’d said, ‘wipe my bogeys on the wall and you wouldn’t even notice. Bogey Room, Bogey Room.’

That had been the culmination of a series of taunts by Jamie, who liked nothing better than winding up his sister. Lisa, who’d been doing her utmost to ignore him as she read the latest issue of Smash Hits magazine, had finally lost her rag. She’d hurled one of her trainers at him, delivering a perfect clip round the ear. Next thing, he was running to their mum in tears and Lisa was the one in trouble.

‘He’s fine. It hardly even touched him. He’s a big crybaby.’

‘You should never throw things at your brother,’ Mum had replied, taking his side as always, oblivious to the fact he was standing behind her, grinning and sticking his tongue out at his sister.

‘Tell him to stop winding me up, then. Look, he’s doing it right now. There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s disgusting. He was just saying that—’

‘I don’t want to hear it.’

‘He’s the one who keeps—’

‘Enough. I’m run off my feet trying to unpack and the last thing I need is you two squabbling. Stay out of each other’s way if you can’t get along.’

‘Fine.’

Only it wasn’t, of course; when Jamie had reappeared at her door a few minutes later, whispering the same taunt about the green walls, she’d had to get as far away from him and his wind-ups as possible.

Now where to go? They’d only lived in Aldham for five days and, although it was August, the rain had been almost constant, so she’d barely stepped outside. It was drizzling at present; she ought to have taken a jacket with her. But there was zero chance of her going back for one, so she carried on regardless.

Her dad had mentioned something about a lane that led away from all the houses and into the countryside. He’d pointed it out from the car yesterday, saying it was popular with dog walkers and there was a nice little stream. It seemed as good a place as any to go, so that was where Lisa headed. It was only a short walk from the house and, within a couple of minutes, she found herself on the rough, moss-laden tarmac of Victoria Street.

There were a couple of grand-looking houses at the start, with big gardens and winding drives, but after that the track narrowed to barely the width of a car, with nettles and other wild plants and bushes on either side, flanked by tall trees. These did at least provide some shelter from the rain, although they also made it rather gloomy and creepy.

She thought about turning back, but then a kind-faced, elderly woman appeared from around the corner. Dressed in wellies and a cagoule, she was walking in the opposite direction, a chocolate Labrador at her heels. ‘Morning, love,’ she said, a quiver in her voice, as the tubby dog waddled forward and sniffed at Lisa’s jeans.

‘Hello,’ Lisa replied with a smile, although she continued walking and resisted stroking the dog, not feeling in the mood for having a chat with a stranger. The woman’s presence spurred her on, nonetheless, partly by reassuring her that this was a safe place, but also because it would look weird if she turned around and retraced her steps.

As it happened, once Lisa turned the corner from where the pensioner had appeared, the lane became far less eerie. The trees thinned out, letting in the light and revealing an open field on one side and the stream her dad had mentioned on the other, with more fields beyond. The drizzle was easing off too, so Lisa was happy to keep on going.

She strode along for a hundred metres or so, breathing deeply in a bid to unwind, to try to forget about her irritating brother and the disaster of relocating to a new part of the country, cut off from all her friends.

That was easier said than done, though. Since the move, she’d barely thought of anything else other than how much she missed the gang. They’d all promised to write regularly. She’d even spoken briefly to Paula, her best friend, on the phone yesterday evening after Mum had agreed she could call to pass on the new number. But it wasn’t the same. Plus Paula had been in a rush, which hadn’t helped. She’d been about to leave for the cinema with Zara, a likely candidate for new best friend, leading Lisa to feel even more cut off than before.

They were all getting ready to start at the same secondary school in September – Oak Park, where Lisa had always expected to go too. They were probably all together right now, chatting and giggling on the swings in the park and pretending not to notice the boys showing off on their BMXs. Meanwhile, here she was. Why did Dad have to get a stupid new job that meant they had to move? And why so far away? It had taken ages for them to travel by car from Nottingham, where there was loads to do, to this isolated village north of Manchester. She might as well have been on the other side of the world. She’d been popular before. Now she was a no-mates loser with nothing better to do than go for a walk alone.

Thinking about the injustice of it all brought tears to her eyes. Meanwhile, she reached a poorly maintained stretch of the road and found herself having to dodge an increasing number of rain-filled potholes and mud patches. Still she continued until, misjudging one particular spot, her trainer-clad right foot ended up ankle-deep in cold, mucky water.

‘Yuck!’ she shouted, lurching forward only to lose her balance, slip and fall flat on her bum in the mud.

It was too much. Rather than getting up, Lisa slumped where she was on the ground and started sobbing. She let out all her frustrations in one almighty wail and the tears gushed like waterfalls down her cheeks.

Eventually the moment passed and, coming to her senses, Lisa realised how ridiculous she must look. Keen to avoid anyone finding her in this state, she levered herself up and assessed the damage. Okay, her jeans, shoes and socks were filthy and wet; she’d probably also collected a few bruises. But despite her over-the-top reaction, it clearly wasn’t the end of the world. Thank goodness there was no one around to see, she thought, when a voice cut through the silence.

‘Ouch!’

The sound, which came from nearby, gave Lisa a fright. ‘Who’s there?’ she snapped, scanning her surroundings but seeing no one in either direction on the lane, nor in any of the surrounding fields.

‘Hello?’ she said in the most confident voice she could muster. ‘Can I help you?’

What a ridiculous thing to say, she thought, waiting for an answer that didn’t come. She’d almost convinced herself that she’d imagined the sound, when there was movement and a loud rustling from a thick bush on the other side of the stream. Then: ‘Ouch! Get off me.’

It was clear this time that the voice was high-pitched – a child’s. To Lisa’s ear, well-practised from seven years at primary school, it definitely sounded like a boy.

‘I can see you there in the bush,’ she said. ‘What are you: some kind of peeping Tom, having a laugh at my expense? My dad’s a policeman, you know. I’ll report you to him, shall I? You won’t be laughing then.’

‘No, please don’t,’ the voice replied from the bush. ‘I’m not spying on you or laughing.’

‘Why are you hiding in that bush, then? Come out here and show yourself.’

There was a pause before the reply. ‘I can’t.’

‘Fine. I’ll go and get my dad.’

‘No! Please, I’m begging you.’

Lisa was surprised how well her empty threat was working. She had no idea what this boy looked like, never mind his name or where he lived. And what were the odds of her being able to bring her dad back here in time to catch him? Whoever he was, he obviously wasn’t very bright. How else could you explain it?

‘Show yourself,’ she said. ‘Final warning.’

‘Okay, okay. Give me a second.’

There was some more rustling, another ‘ouch’ and then a beetroot head appeared, peering out from one side of the bush, mole eyes beneath a shock of dark curly hair.

‘There you are,’ Lisa said to the boy, who looked a little younger than her eleven years. ‘That wasn’t so difficult, was it? So why don’t you come properly out, then?’

He shook his head vigorously, causing his chubby cheeks to wobble from side to side. ‘I can’t, seriously. Please don’t make me.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you can. What—’

‘I’m not wearing any clothes, okay,’ he blurted out, his face turning an even deeper shade of red. ‘They stole them – and my glasses. I can barely even see you, whoever you are.’

Lisa couldn’t believe what she was hearing – and yet she knew without doubt that this boy was telling the truth. The pain in his voice was all too real. Then there was the look of misery and shame on his face. The look of a victim. Suddenly everything had changed.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I had no idea. Who did this to you?’

‘Some boys from my class at school. They invited me out to play with them. I thought they were being nice at last. I should have known better.’

‘So have they left you totally, um, naked?’ Lisa asked, feeling her own cheeks burning.

‘I’m in my pants and socks,’ he replied.

Lisa let out a quiet sigh of relief. ‘Any idea what they did with the rest of your stuff?’

He shook his head. ‘Not a clue.’

‘Why were you crying out before? It sounded like you were in pain.’

‘I was. I still am. There are some nettles back here that I stung my legs on, and quite a few creepy-crawlies.’

‘Oh dear.’

‘It’s my glasses I’m most bothered about. My mum will kill me when she finds out. I only just got them. They were a gift for finishing primary school.’

This got Lisa’s attention. ‘Wait. Do you start secondary school next month?’

‘Yes.’

‘You must be eleven like me. I’m Lisa, by the way. What’s your name?’

‘Elliot.’

‘Nice to meet you, Elliot. I’m new in the village.’

‘Oh, are you the girl who’s moved into Christopher’s house?’

‘I think that was the name of the boy who lived there before us. Did you know him?’

‘Yes. He was my best friend.’

Lisa wasn’t sure how to reply. She almost felt like apologising, but of course that would be ridiculous. It was hardly her fault. She’d never have moved here in the first place, if she’d had her way. She felt sorry for Elliot, though. The pickle he was in put her wet jeans and trainer into context. She decided to help him.

‘Okay, Elliot. What can I do to get you out of here?’

A few minutes later she arrived back home, panting after running all the way. She burst through the front door without saying a word and headed straight for her bedroom.

‘Lisa, is that you?’ her mum called from downstairs.

‘Yes,’ she shouted back. ‘I forgot something. I’ll be heading out again in a second.’

She rummaged through her clothes, many of which were still in boxes, looking for something suitable. Elliot was shorter than her, from what she’d been able to make out, but he also looked a bit plump and boys usually had larger feet than girls. Eventually she came across a large yellow T-shirt, which Mum had bought her to wear as a nightie, plus a baggy pair of grey jogging bottoms. They’ll do, she thought, throwing them into a rucksack along with a big pair of hand-me-down flip-flops she’d received from a cousin but never worn.

‘Why don’t you take your brother out with you?’ Mum called. ‘He could do with some fresh air.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Lisa said under her breath. She grabbed the bag and raced past the closed door of Jamie’s bedroom, heading downstairs before he had the chance to emerge.

‘Bye!’ she shouted as she passed the kitchen, where Mum was on her hands and knees loading something into the back of a large corner cupboard. She thought she heard her say something in reply but pretended not to, continuing on her way.

Shortly afterwards, having passed another couple of dog walkers going the other way, Lisa returned to the spot where she’d left Elliot hiding. ‘I’m back,’ she said. ‘I’ll find somewhere to jump across the stream, shall I? Then I can give you these clothes.’

Elliot’s head reappeared, eyes wide with terror at the suggestion. ‘No, don’t do that. Can’t you throw them over to me?’

Imagining herself in the same situation, Lisa understood why Elliot didn’t want her to see him virtually naked. ‘Yes, that’s fine,’ she replied. Removing the rucksack from her shoulders, she moved to the very edge of the stream and tried a few practice swings in the right direction. ‘Right, I think I can make it. I’m going to aim straight for the middle of the bush. On three, okay? One … two … three.’

She threw the bag as best as she could, getting it across the water at least, but not as far as Elliot. It caught in the low-hanging branch of a nearby tree, a metre or so in front of the bush where he was hiding.

‘Sorry,’ she said as Elliot’s face sank. ‘That didn’t go to plan. I can come over there and grab it, if you like.’

‘No, I’ll get it.’ He paused before adding: ‘But would you mind looking the other way?’

This amused Lisa. At primary school, when they’d had to change for PE or games in the classroom, the boys had usually been happy parading around in their underwear. It was the girls who tended to be more self-conscious. ‘No problem,’ she replied. ‘I’m turning around now.’

Lisa noted how peaceful it was down the lane as the noise of every movement Elliot made carried across the stream. By the sound of things, not least his various grunts and groans, he seemed to be struggling to pull the bag free. She was about to ask if he needed a hand when he shouted, ‘got it.’

‘Great. Can I turn around again?’

‘Yes.’

He was back behind the bush when she did so, but a few moments later, he emerged with a look on his face somewhere between sheepish and relieved. He looked odd in the T-shirt and joggers, both of which were tight width-wise but too long in length.

She threw him a smile. ‘Do they fit okay? They were the best I could find at short notice.’

‘They’re fine, thanks.’ Elliot stepped forward in the flip-flops, which actually looked about the right size, and then almost tripped over one of the oversized legs of the jogging bottoms, barely managing to steady himself on a tree trunk. ‘Oops.’

‘Careful,’ Lisa warned. ‘Maybe you ought to roll up the legs a little.’

‘Good idea,’ he replied, bending forward to follow her suggestion. ‘I’m really not very good without my specs.’

He wasn’t exaggerating about this, as Lisa discovered when she had to take back the rucksack and help him across the stream. Then they made their way back to the village.

‘What do you want to do about getting your things back?’ Lisa asked as they neared the start of the lane.

Elliot shrugged. ‘Nothing, I guess. What can I do? They’re gone now.’

‘But your glasses.’

‘I’ll have to wear my old ones again and tell Mum I lost them.’

‘Why not tell her the truth? She could contact the parents of these boys. Then they’d have to return them.’

‘You’re kidding, right? Then I’d be a telltale, which would only make things worse. It’s not like I can prove what they’ve done. It’s their word against mine. And there were three of them. I wouldn’t want to worry my mum, anyway.’

He stopped walking, took hold of Lisa’s arm and looked her in the eye. ‘You’re not going to tell your dad, are you? Please don’t. I’d be dead meat.’

‘No, of course I won’t.’ She grimaced. ‘He’s, um, not actually a policeman. I kind of made that up. Sorry.’

She expected Elliot to be angry with her about this, but instead he started to laugh, making his deep blue eyes sparkle. ‘Really? Wow, I can’t believe I fell for that. I’m so gullible.’

Lisa smiled. ‘It’s understandable. You did have other things on your mind at the time, what with being almost naked and all. I shouldn’t have lied to you.’

‘That’s okay. You rescued me, which more than makes up for it.’

‘True.’ She looked over at Elliot, in her poorly fitting clothes and flip-flops; then down at herself, wet and caked in mud, and it was her turn to laugh.

‘What?’

‘I was thinking how ridiculous we both look, that’s all.’

Her words set Elliot off again, in a fit of giggles this time, and the way he laughed – which reminded Lisa of a seal – was so contagious that soon she too couldn’t stop.

She lost track of how long they stood there chuckling next to the Victoria Street sign. Several adults walked past in that time and the odd looks they gave the pair only served to make them laugh even more.

Eventually, Elliot announced that he ought to get home. ‘Is it okay if I return your things tomorrow? I could bring them round to your house in the morning, if you like.’

‘Um, sure,’ Lisa replied.

‘Cool.’

‘Not as posh as you’d think, is it, this place?’

‘What do you mean?’

Lisa nodded towards the sign. ‘Victoria Street. It’s a very grand-sounding name.’

‘Oh, right. Yeah, no one actually uses that. Everyone calls it Vicky Lane.’

‘Really?’

‘Yep. Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘Wait. Before you go, you are all right, aren’t you? You know, after everything that happened.’

‘I’m fine, thanks to you. I owe you one.’

‘I was glad to help.’

Lisa could tell that Elliot was itching to leave, no doubt keen to get some of his own clothes back on, so she said goodbye and they headed off in opposite directions.

He seemed a bit odd, she thought. Certainly not a typical boy of her age. But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, and the laughing together at the end had been good fun.

Maybe they could be friends.

CHAPTER 4

When the man returned to the room, the lapel of his black jacket bore a pressed metal badge, which stated that his name was Will.

Of course. How had he forgotten that?

‘Here you are,’ Will said, handing over a large white mug of tea. ‘Sorry I took a while. It’s hot, so be careful.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Sugar?’ Will asked, opening his palm to reveal some sachets.

‘No, thanks.’

Will, who hadn’t brought a drink for himself, seemed happy to watch him sip the tea in silence. Meanwhile, he scrutinised him with his blue eyes, occasionally running a hand through his thick grey hair. Only when the mug was half empty did Will ask him if he felt more clearheaded.

‘Yes.’ The tea really seemed to have helped. He’d even stopped tapping his fingers and bouncing his leg up and down.

‘Good. You’ve probably got a few questions.’

And of course he did, starting with where he was and how he’d got there.

It was a huge amount to take in, even though some of it was as he’d suspected or remembered. It was devastating and yet also strangely calming. For if the worst thing imaginable had already happened, what else was there to fear?

The last thing he expected was to be presented with a proposal. His unique circumstances and the transitory nature of his current position meant he could help with something, Will explained at length.

‘Is this for real?’ he asked eventually, still absorbing the details. It involved a person who meant a great deal to him – who he’d love nothing more than to help – and an incredible, impossible chance to return to the world he’d thought lost forever only moments ago.

Will responded with a solemn nod. ‘Yes, and so you know, it’s a rare privilege that you’re being offered here. But it will only be for a short time – probably a matter of days.’

‘What do I have to do? How does it work exactly? How would I even get there?’

‘Give me the word and I’ll take care of the details.’

‘It’s that straightforward?’

‘From your perspective, yes. The situation you’d face there is … complex, but we’d provide you with all the necessary information.’

A wave of nervous excitement washed over him. His bouncing leg started up again, vibrating the remaining tea in his mug, as he gave Will his answer. ‘I’m in.’

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