The McKellen family had found their perfect home. A large, detached house with secure well-maintained garden, out in the suburbs. The area was safe and close to good schools for their five-year-old daughter. Little Sophie was the McKellen’s only child and often wished for a brother or sister to share in her innocent childhood games. Sophie loved her new home and her new room, that was large and painted in a pale shade of lavender. The McKellen’s were kind, doting parents but found themselves otherwise occupied with the move, leaving Sophie to entertain herself. One sunny afternoon while her parents were organising the garage, Sophie sat in the middle of their manicured lawn playing with her favourite doll. As she played, she became aware of a dark shadow that slowly approached. Sophie looked up, squinting her eyes in the suns blinding rays. As her eyes adjusted to the light the small silhouette of a young boy came into focus.

         ‘Hello, my name is Sophie. What’s your name?’ she asked with a smile.

         ‘I’m Toby. I live next door. Can I play?’ asked the little boy timidly.

         Sophie was elated by the idea of a new friend, and they spent some time playing and talking before Toby said he should go home, before his parents start to worry.

Later that day Sophie told her mum that the little boy from next door had stopped to talk to her. Sophie told her mum all about Toby and how much fun she’d had and her mum was glad she’d already made a friend.

A few days passed and Sophie was sat in her room, playing with all her toys when her door slowly swung open. There stood Toby, with a smile on his face.

‘Can I play?’ Toby asked.

Sophie felt joy in seeing her new friend and invited him in to join her. They played with their toys for over an hour, laughing and having fun. Eventually the time came when Toby had to return home. Sophie waved her friend goodbye and continued playing on her own.

‘Sophie, time for dinner,’ Sophies mum shouted from the kitchen.

Sophie dropped her toys and ran downstairs as fast as her little legs would carry her. She sat herself down at the table and began to tell her mum all about how Toby had helped her name all her teddy bears and the fun time they had shared. Sophies mum was busy plating up the food and trying to find what draw they had placed the serving spoons, so little attention was spent on what Sophie was saying. It wasn’t until they were all sat down and ready to eat Sophies mum realised what she was actually talking about.

‘Sophie, are you saying the little boy from next door came over to play in your room? Her mum asked, concerned that she hadn’t even known there was a small child that wasn’t her own running around her house.

‘Yes. We were naming all my toys?’ Sophie replied.

Sophie’s mum didn’t mind the boy coming over to play but wanted to make sure she knew when he was. Besides the fact that she hadn’t even met the boy herself, she thought it to be strange that the boy’s parents would allow him to go into their neighbours houses without an invitation. After dinner, Sophies mum decided to go around to the neighbour’s, the King’s house, to have a word about their son. She knocked on the door and a middle-aged lady with dusty brown hair answered with a kind smile, soon joined by a stoutly gentleman in a flannel shirt.

‘Hello, I’m Mrs McKellen. We met yesterday, briefly.’ Sophies mother stated.

‘Yes, of course. Hope the moves going well. How can we help you?’ Mrs King replied.

‘Well, I understand your boy Toby has been chatting to our Sophie and they seem to be good friends. Don’t get me wrong, I’m extremely happy they have each found a friend of the same age to play with but I was hoping that in the future I could be told if he is coming around to our house. I was slightly surprised to hear He had spent an hour playing with Sophie in our house without us even knowing he was there.’ Sophies mother explained, trying not to come across conceited.

Mrs King turned to Mr King with a confused look on her face before Mr King took a step towards the door and placed a hand tentatively on his wife’s shoulder.

‘How do you know about Toby? I sincerely hope this isn’t some kind of cruel joke.’ Mr King asked.

‘I’m Sorry, I’m not sure I understand,’ Mrs McKellen replied.

Mr and Mrs King turned to look upon each other once more with a saddening gaze.

‘It can’t be our son your Sophie is talking to. Our son Toby died. Eight years ago.’