by Karen King
‘It was about the reality of climate change. You were really pleased. We went out to celebrate.’ Only the night had ended in another row but he wouldn’t remember that. ‘Do you want me to look for it in your study? I could bring you a notebook and pen too.’ She had no idea where he’d keep it; she rarely went into Phil’s study. They respected each other’s private space.
‘It’s okay, I’ll read it when I get home. The nurse gave me my notebook and pen, and my watch, phone and wallet. She said my clothes were ruined and had to be dumped.’ He sighed. ‘I can’t even remember what I was wearing. I feel so hopeless, Freya. Like a part of my life is missing.’
Freya reached for his hand and squeezed it reassuringly. ‘It’s early days yet. Your memory could come back to you any time.’
‘I hope so. How many rejections did I have before they accepted my article?’
How could she answer that? Phil was always so secretive about his work, never telling her what he was working on until he had it accepted. She could always tell when he’d had a rejection, though – he’d be moody, on edge – but the few times she’d tried to talk to him he’d been snappy so she hadn’t pressed it. It was because he was insecure, she knew that. He’d told her how his parents had always favoured his younger brother, Graham, how they’d always made Phil feel second best. Graham had been doing a law degree, planning on being a barrister, and was the apple of his parents’ eyes. Whereas Phil wanted to be a journalist, which his father thought was a complete waste of time so refused to fund his university education. That was why Phil didn’t see his parents. He couldn’t keep taking the comparison, the rejection, the way they made him feel that he was a failure.
‘I don’t know, you never told me. But I’m sure it wasn’t many.’
‘How did we celebrate?’ he asked. ‘Did we go to Dulcie’s?’
Their favourite restaurant. The one Phil had taken her to when he’d proposed. ‘Yes, you even ordered a bottle of champagne. It was a lovely evening.’
It had been too. They’d had some happy times together, her and Phil. Could they put the bad times behind them and start again?
‘What about my fortieth? I saw the party pictures in the album and some pictures of us in Rome. Did we go there for my birthday?’
‘Yes, we went for a long weekend.’
His eyes clouded. ‘I’ve moved into another decade, visited the city I wanted to go to most in the world, and I can’t remember it. What did we do there?’
So she told him how they’d visited the Colosseum, tossed a coin in the Trevi Fountain, visited the Altar of the Fatherland, the Spanish Steps.
‘Did we go to the Vatican too and see the Sistine Chapel?’ he asked eagerly.
‘No, we didn’t have time but we made a promise we’d go again.’
He looked at her with eyes so sad that her heart melted. ‘All those beautiful memories and I’ve forgotten them.’ He raised her hand to his lips. ‘We’ll have to make more,’ he said softly. ‘Lots more.’
They both turned towards the door as it opened and two police officers came in.
‘Mr Keegan?’ the female officer asked.
Phil nodded. ‘That’s me.’
‘And I’m Freya, his wife.’ Freya stood up. What were the police doing here? ‘How can we help you?’
‘We’d like to talk to you about the accident. We’ve received some new evidence.’ The officer looked grave. Freya felt uneasy. Were they going to charge Phil with dangerous driving? He must have been speeding down that hill not to be able to brake in time.
‘What evidence?’ Phil shot Freya a worried glance.
The police officers moved closer and this time it was the man who spoke. ‘The insurance company ordered some standard investigations and have reported to us that the accident happened because your brakes failed, Mr Keegan.’
‘There can’t have been anything wrong with the brakes. Phil only recently had his car serviced,’ Freya butted in. ‘It sailed through, no problems.’
The police officer’s next words shook Freya to the core. ‘I’m afraid that the insurance company have evidence to suggest that the brakes were tampered with.’
9
The police officer’s words kept going round and round in Freya’s mind as she drove home. The police had questioned Phil, wanting to know what he could remember about the accident, but his mind was a total blank and she could see that he was getting distressed trying to recall it. He got in such a state that the doctor, who had come in to check on him, then suggested that they all leave and allow him to rest.
‘We’ll leave it a few days until we have more information,’ the female police officer told Freya when they were outside Phil’s room. ‘Mr Keegan may have remembered more by then.’
A honk on the horn pulled Freya out of her thoughts. She should have been paying more attention to the road – look what had happened to Phil!
He could have died. She could have lost him forever. And yes, Friday evening she had been so upset that she had never wanted to see Phil again, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to die.
The police thought that somebody did, though. Or at least, they wanted him seriously injured. That had really shaken her up.
She pushed the thought from her mind. She had to concentrate on her driving; she’d think about everything else once she was safely home.
She headed straight for the kitchen, where she flicked on first the light then the kettle. She really needed a cup of coffee. And she was starving. She turned on the oven, knowing there were plenty of ready meals in the freezer, her mind whirring with the enormity of her dilemma. Should she leave Phil, as she had planned, or give him another chance?
She could imagine how shocked everyone would be if she left. Her family and their friends thought that she and Phil were the perfect couple, so happily married. The stunned look on Daisy’s face when Freya had confided in her today proved that. Daisy had believed Freya, though, and had told her to leave Phil.
That’s exactly what she was doing on Friday night but things were different now. The accident changed everything.
She took a frozen lasagne out of the freezer, peeled off the film top, placed it on a baking tray and slid it into the now-warm oven. Phil hated ready meals but they were a good standby when they were both out at work all day. ‘If you went freelance and worked from home, you could cut down your hours and have more time to prepare healthier meals,’ Phil had told her a few times. She’d pointed out that when he worked from home he rarely cooked from scratch. That hadn’t gone down too well; he’d accused her of not taking his writing seriously and another row had followed.
Freya was tired of fighting her corner. It was always one rule for Phil and another for her, and whenever she tried to stick up for herself, a huge row ensued. She squeezed her eyes tight to block out the consequences of some of those rows. Phil had been so easy-going, so pleasant and understanding before they got married. ‘It’s you who has made me this way. You start these fights. And you know just what buttons to push,’ Phil repeatedly told her.
She’d seen the love shining out of his eyes today when he’d told her that he loved her. Could they get it back? That heart-thumping, overwhelming, nothing-else-mattered love that they’d once had for each other?
She made the coffee and sat down at the kitchen table. She wanted Phil back so much. The lovely, caring, supportive partner he used to be.
It was as if fate had given them a second chance. All Phil remembered was the love they had shared – he had forgotten all the bad stuff. Could she forget it too?
She closed her eyes, breathing in slowly, imagining how she would have felt if Phil had been killed, imagining a life without him. After all, hadn’t she – more than once – wished for exactly that?
10
Wednesday
When she arrived at the hospital the next morning, Phil was sitting up in bed, looking a lot brighter. ‘The doctor said I’m making good progress and can go home on Friday,’ he told he
r. ‘I’ll have to come back for a check-up in a month’s time, though.’
Two days away. Even though she had been expecting it, the reality threw her. She had two days to decide if she wanted to make another go of their marriage or not. To decide if it was safe to stay with Phil.
‘That’s really good news,’ she agreed, pulling up the usual chair to sit beside him. ‘Have any more memories come back?’
‘No, and I still can’t remember anything about the accident. I keep thinking about what the police said…’
‘Don’t. The insurance company must have made a mistake. The police said they were still conducting tests,’ Freya reminded him.
‘I know, but it’s such a shock.’ He rubbed his forehead. ‘I’ve got this huge void in my mind and so many questions. I’ve written a couple down and I was hoping you could answer them for me – do you mind?’
‘Of course not. Fire away.’
He took a notebook off the bedside cabinet and flicked the pages over. ‘Here we are.’ He shot her an embarrassed glance. ‘Sorry if any of these are awkward.’
‘It’s fine,’ she replied although inwardly she was bracing herself, wondering what he was going to ask.
‘First, do we have any pets? I’m guessing not as there are no photos of any in the album.’
‘No, we’ve talked about getting a dog at some point but at the moment we’re both busy working.’ Gosh, this feels a bit odd. She could feel herself tensing up, wondering what was coming next.
Phil looked awkward too. ‘Are you still working at IPA? I remember that we had discussed you quitting and working freelance when we got married.’
‘Yes, I am. We decided it was better for me to continue working at IPA for a while. It’s a good regular wage and gives us the opportunity to save for a family.’ Another lie. She hated taking advantage of his amnesia like this, but why cause upset when she didn’t have to?
He looked down at his notepad then back up at her. ‘Do I still work at Birmingham University? And write for the local Telegraph?’
‘Yes, and you’ve had lots of features published in various magazines too. You’re in demand!’ she told him, trying to lighten the mood a little. She knew it was only natural he would have questions, but this felt so stiff and formal, as if she was being interviewed for a job.
‘Let’s hope I can remember if I’ve got any deadlines. I don’t want to be letting people down and losing work. It’s not good for my professional reputation.’
‘The staff at the Telegraph and university already know about the accident. They’ve both sent good wishes and told me to tell you not to worry about anything, to just concentrate on getting better,’ she reassured him. ‘And it’s mid-June now, and you only work there part-time, so your teaching sessions are finished until September. As for anything else, you’ll have written it down in your calendar – you always keep records.’
‘That’s good. I’ve been worrying about work. Thanks so much for answering my questions. All this can’t be pleasant for you.’
‘It’s fine. I don’t mind.’
He reached for the album that was lying on the side of the bed. ‘I’ve been looking at the photos again, hoping something will jog my memory, but it’s all still a blank. What if I never get my memory back? Those two years will be lost forever.’
‘The doctor said that it’s likely your memory will come back in time,’ she reminded him. ‘And you might remember more when you’re back home, in familiar surroundings.’
Suddenly, Phil grabbed her hand and leant forward, his eyes worried. ‘You won’t go straight back to work and leave me on my own all day, will you, Freya? I feel so weak and vulnerable. I’m scared I might collapse, or a memory might come flooding back that shakes me up.’
Freya hesitated. With the news that he was fit enough to come home, she’d assumed that, if she did decide to give their marriage another chance, she could go back to work on Monday, thinking that after the weekend Phil would be fine to look after himself. He could take it easy, sit out in the garden perhaps, and she really needed to get on with the new client. But if he felt that vulnerable, maybe she should think about doing flexi-time…
‘I can’t not go into work at all, Phil. And I can’t do all my job online. But I’ll talk to Stefan and see if I can work from home a couple of days a week for a while, until you feel stronger.’
‘Thank you. I really appreciate it.’ He leant back into his pillow. ‘I feel so tired now.’
‘You rest. I’ll visit you again later,’ she said, leaning forward and kissing him on the cheek, but he wrapped his arm around her neck, gently pulled her closer and – taking her completely by surprise – kissed her on the mouth. Her first instinct was to push him away but she hesitated, not wanting to hurt him. Then his kiss deepened and she gave in to it and had to admit that it felt good. Maybe the love was still there.
But she needed more than love. She needed to know that she was safe.
Perhaps she was. As long as Phil didn’t remember what had happened before.
11
Daisy hadn’t come to the hospital since Monday but Freya wasn’t surprised about that. She knew that Phil was recovering, and anyway, she had enough on her hands. She wondered if Daisy had taken a pregnancy test yet and – if so – what the results were. She dialled her sister’s number, ready to offer her support if needed.
‘Hello, Freya. How’s Phil? Any new memories?’ Daisy asked.
‘No, but he looks a lot brighter. He’s coming home on Friday.’
‘And you’re okay with that? You’re giving him another chance?’
‘I’m still trying to make up my mind. Part of me wants to give it another go. The accident has changed Phil. He’s kinder, softer, more like he used to be. And it feels a bit cruel to abandon him when he’s so weak and vulnerable.’ She paused. ‘But I don’t know whether to risk it. It’s such early days.’
‘Take your time. Make sure you think it through. He’s not that badly injured, he could cope. And, if you do decide to stay, just make sure that you have an escape route if things go wrong.’
‘I will.’ The same thought had occurred to Freya. She probably wouldn’t know if Phil had changed until he came home and she spent more time with him. But that could be dangerous. Right now, she didn’t know what to do. Then she remembered that her sister had her own problems. ‘Anyway, how are you feeling now? Did you take a pregnancy test?’
There was a long silence then Daisy replied in a voice so quiet that Freya could barely hear her. ‘Yes. And it was positive. I’m pregnant.’
‘Oh, Daisy. Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine, I just have to get used to the idea, that’s all. And Mark is being so lovely. Don’t worry about me – concentrate on you and Phil.’
‘If you ever need to talk…’
‘I’m okay, honestly, I was having a wobble yesterday, that’s all. I have to go now, Freya, I need to go to the shops before I pick up the twins.’ And with a muffled goodbye she was gone.
Poor Daisy. The news of her unexpected pregnancy had clearly really floored her, but Freya was sure she would soon bounce back. Daisy was strong. It was Daisy who had held the family together when their father had upped and left, who had kept everything going while their mother fell apart, encouraging her to make a new life for herself, and pushing Freya into still going to university. Daisy was a coper. Freya was sure that once her sister adjusted to the shock of being pregnant, she would be pleased at this new addition to their family. She remembered what Daisy had said about her and Mark drifting apart. Well, it sounded like he was being supportive now, so maybe this baby would bring them both together again. She hoped so. All marriages went through bad patches, after all. Maybe Phil’s accident would bring her and Phil together again too. Then she remembered that she hadn’t told Daisy about the police visiting the hospital. It’s only a suspicion at the moment, she thought, resolving not to tell anyone until the police were sure whether the brakes definitely had bee
n tampered with or not.
She stopped off at the supermarket to get some supplies, then set off home. Her colleague Nadia phoned as Freya parked up in the drive. She’d already texted a couple of times this week, as had Stefan.
‘Hello, Nadia.’
‘Hi, hun, just checking that you’re okay. How’s Phil?’
‘Recovering well – the doctor said he can come home in a couple of days. He still can’t remember the last two years, though.’
‘It’ll come back. And if it doesn’t, losing two years of your memory isn’t that bad, is it? Better than losing it all. Or dying.’
She was right. ‘Too true. Now, how did the Kada presentation go?’ she asked, wanting to change the subject and guessing that was the main reason that Nadia had phoned. The presentation had been scheduled for earlier this afternoon.
‘Perfect! And… drum roll, please! We got the contract. Obviously I’ll hand it all back over to you as soon as you’re able to come back to work, but I thought you’d want to know sooner.’
‘That’s amazing news! I can’t wait to be back. Though I’m hoping Stefan will let me work from home a couple of days a week so I don’t have to leave Phil on his own too much. He’s feeling a bit vulnerable what with his amnesia and broken ribs.’
‘I’m sure he will – Stefan’s always flexible like that and it’s perfectly reasonable that you want to be at home to keep an eye on Phil.’
They chatted for a while about work-related stuff then Nadia announced she had to go as her supper was ready. ‘Take care of yourself and call me if I can do anything.’
‘Thank you.’ As she ended the call, Freya thought how lucky she was to work for such a friendly, supportive company. That was one of the reasons she hadn’t wanted to leave and work freelance from home, as Phil had kept asking her to do.
If she did give their marriage another chance and worked from home until Phil was fully recovered, would he make it difficult for her to go back to work, beg her to work from home all the time? Would she have to fight with him about that again?