by Julie Sykes
I breathed deeply. Then I went through the same routine with the thin switch on the gadget’s top edge. Nothing! The phone remained lifeless. Well, sort of, because handling it had given me a strong sense of self-importance. How embarrassing! Who did I think I was – a junior spy or something? I laughed at my wild imagination. The flashbacks that I’d experienced previously couldn’t have been real. I bet they were caused by the stress of being in hospital and not knowing who I was. I put the gadget on the desk and studied it objectively. It had to be out of charge. So how did you charge a phone with no ports to plug a wire in? Unless…
I leaned over the computer and held the phone up to the window. The screen glowed eerily; it had to be solar powered. I tilted it towards the window to let it catch more of the light. When I pressed the button again the phone remained lifeless.
‘Pleeeeaaase work,’ I said, as if begging was going to help.
I held the phone to the window until my arm ached so badly that I was forced to put it down. It looked exactly the same as it had before. I wiggled the computer mouse to get rid of the screen saver then typed, ‘How to identify your mobile phone’ into the box of the search engine.
Two seconds later I had a page of suggestions. My pulse quickened as I scanned the list. All the results were about how to identify your mobile phone’s model number. I tried again, this time asking how to identify the manufacturer of your mobile. This list was longer but just as unhelpful.
I guess it was a pretty stupid question to ask. How could you not know what sort of mobile you’d purchased? There was only one thing for it. I would have to trawl through every single manufacturer until I found the mobile that matched mine. My eyes were blurring when, ages later, Lucy knocked to ask if I wanted to walk over to Melody House with her for dinner. It would have been nice if there’d been more to show for my efforts, other than a sore neck and aching shoulders, but there was always tomorrow. I switched off the computer with relief and pocketed my mobile.
Six
The dining hall in Melody House was a beautiful wood-panelled room, with a crystal chandelier and huge doors that opened on to the garden. We joined the queue for food, served from a series of portable heated food trolleys. I didn’t recognise any of the dishes and ended up having the same as Lucy. We collected cutlery from a dresser and then carried everything over to a free table. Lucy sat down and I took the chair opposite her.
‘Mmm, lasagne’s my favourite,’ she said. She broke a roll in half and mopped up some of the sauce. Lucy was clearly someone who enjoyed food.
It was the first time I’d felt truly hungry since I’d woken up in hospital and I set about the meal with enthusiasm. It was delicious. I copied Lucy, mopping up the sauce with my bread. We ate in companionable silence until a prickling sensation down my neck warned me of someone coming up behind me. At once an image burst into my mind of a clean white room, with no more than sixteen desks and a large screen hung at the front.
Never let down your guard.
The voice was cold and uncompromising.
The next thing I knew, I’d spun round and jabbed my assailant in the stomach with an elbow. He uttered a surprised grunt then he doubled over and dropped his tray on the table with a clatter. The water jug rocked and Lucy reached out, her green eyes wide, as she stopped it from tipping over.
‘That was friendly.’
To my total mortification, Dan was staring down at me with a mixture of amusement and respect in his eyes.
‘Hell! I’m sorry. I didn’t realise… I mean, I thought…’ I was confused and appalled. What had that been about? My reaction was hardly normal for a sixteen-year-old school kid. Perhaps that spy theory wasn’t so mad after all.
Luckily Dan found the incident highly amusing and he burst out laughing. ‘Remind me not to approach you on a dark night! That’s a pretty mean weapon you’ve got hidden in your elbow.’
‘I’m sorry.’ My face flamed. I wanted to run away and hide, possibly forever, but I forced myself to meet Dan’s eye. ‘Did I hurt you?’
‘No,’ he chuckled. ‘And more importantly, my dinner survived. I was going to ask if this seat was taken, but maybe I’ll find somewhere else to eat.’
‘I can move if you want to be with Lucy.’ Embarrassment was making me gabble.
‘I came to sit with you. Probably safer if I move to the other side of the table though, where I’ve a better chance of anticipating your next move.’ Dan’s blue eyes crinkled with amusement as he slid into the seat beside Lucy. She was doubled up with laughter. It took her ages to calm down, and even then the odd giggle kept escaping, like a hiccup, from her lips.
Dan attacked his lasagne with a fork. ‘A wee birdie tells me that you’re a hot shot on the flute. I’d love to hear you play.’
‘Really?’ I smiled. ‘Not scared that I might beat you over the head with it?’
Dan grinned back at me. ‘I have a pretty thick skull. So is that a yes?’
‘It would be, but I don’t actually have a flute.’
Dan raised his eyebrows. ‘And that’s going to be a problem here? Mum said she’s going to lend you one of hers. Very generous, considering she only has three hundred spare ones.’
‘Really!’ My eyes widened. Dan snickered and I suddenly realised that he was teasing me. ‘How about I play for you tomorrow?’ I asked him. ‘My timetable says that I have a music lesson first thing, followed by orchestra and a small group ensemble at 11.30 a.m. I thought I’d give the ensemble a miss.’
‘Eleven-thirty’s good for me too,’ said Dan. ‘I’ll book a practice room out to you. Would you prefer one in Bluewater or Margaret Becker?’
‘Margaret Becker,’ I said immediately. I might not remember the old me, but this new one definitely knew what she liked best. Or was it just the old me surfacing? There was something about the gracefully curved, open-air stage of the Margaret Becker building that tugged at my heart.
‘Good choice! Becker’s my favourite too,’ Dan seemed pleased and we shared a smile.
‘Has Erin McKeever arrived yet?’ I asked.
‘No,’ Dan’s expression was guarded. It made me wonder if Mia had been speculating about Erin too. ‘It’s not that unusual for students to turn up late without their parents warning us.’
There was an awkward silence. Dan finally broke it. ‘There’s a volleyball match tonight down by the loch. It’ll be fun. You should come.’ His gaze took in Lucy then lingered on me.
‘Sounds great,’ said Lucy as she scraped the last bits of food from her plate.
Reluctantly I shook my head. I vaguely remembered the game of volleyball, and I’d have liked to take part, but it had been an incredibly long day, packed full of new experiences. I couldn’t cope with any more. My eyes felt heavy and I longed for bed. Just thinking about it set me yawning.
‘Thanks, but I’ll give it a miss. Another time though.’
‘I’ll keep you to that,’ Dan agreed.
My first orchestra session took place in the Bluewater Concert Hall and was led by an older man with greying hair. He was called Peter Lassiter. He was dressed casually in jeans and a blue Waterside polo shirt. Lucy pointed it out and said, ‘The teachers here wear different coloured tops according to their roles. Music teachers wear blue; sports teachers, red; and the domestic staff, black.’
‘Why?’ I asked.
‘To help you to identify each member of staff and their job,’ said Lucy patiently.
I still didn’t get it. It was easy enough to work out who the staff were because they were so much older than the students. Surely you could ask them what they did. I was going to pursue it but Peter started the session by tapping on his music stand to get everyone’s attention. He spent most of the time getting to know us by asking questions about what music we liked and which instruments we played.
‘He seems nice,’ I said to Lucy, aft
er we were dismissed.
‘Yes, well. Don’t be fooled. He is nice, today. When we start making the music he will be different,’ said a girl with glossy brown hair, filing out of the hall alongside me.
‘Claudia!’ Lucy darted round me and the two girls hugged.
‘Amber, this is Claudia Bergmann, from Munich. She came to summer school last year. Claudia, this is Amber, she’s new.’
‘Hello,’ said Claudia. ‘I am very pleased to meet you.’
‘Me too.’ I sidestepped to let someone pass.
‘We are causing the traffic jam,’ said Claudia, her clipped accent very different to Lucy’s soft Scottish one. ‘I will see you both at lunch, yes?’
‘Definitely! I’ve got a lesson now, Practice Room 4. Where are you going Amber?’
‘Margaret Becker.’
‘Want any help getting there?’
‘I should be fine.’ My long-term memory might be broken, but the short-term one was exceptionally good.
Dan was waiting for me outside the Margaret Becker building. He was leaning against the wall and had a black rectangular case dangling from one hand. His blonde hair was dishevelled, like he’d got up in a hurry and forgotten to comb it. When his bright blue eyes met mine it made my heart race. He pushed himself upright and held out the case. Our fingers brushed as I took it from him. Sparks skittered up my arm. I pulled back awkwardly. Dan didn’t seem to notice. ‘You’re honoured,’ he said smoothly. Mum’s lent you her second-best flute.’
‘No pressure, then.’
‘None needed. According to Mum, you could make music playing a stick.’
I blushed. ‘I’m not that good.’ Dan raised a sceptical eyebrow and my stomach skipped. ‘Really, I’m not.’ I protested.
Dan held the door open, letting me go through first. He then led the way along the central corridor to a practice room at the end. My hands shook as I laid the flute case on a table and opened it up. Mia’s flute was exquisite, a beautiful work of art with gold-plated keys. I couldn’t wait to play it. My fingers twitched with impatience as I slotted the pieces together. Dan sat down on a chair to watch. I lifted the flute to my lips and played my first experimental notes.
‘It’s good. It has a lovely tone.’ The keys still felt in the wrong place but my fingers were adjusting to them. After a few warm-up exercises I moved on to some simple tunes. I ran through the same repertoire as I had yesterday and added a new song that my tutor, Mr Mason, had taught me earlier.
‘Not bad,’ said Dan, when I finally stopped. He sounded unimpressed but, from the twinkle in his eye, I guessed he was only teasing me. ‘You get extra points for playing without music.’
‘I can’t read it!’ The music scores were as unfamiliar as a foreign language. Mr Mason thought that I probably did know how to read music but had just temporarily forgotten.
I played some more songs before I started the special one. The song with the melody that had haunted me since I’d first played it yesterday. I blew softly across the mouthpiece, filling the room with mellow notes. The opening bars faded and Dan leaned forward, a reverential expression on his face. I let the music carry me with it. It lifted me up, tantalising my senses with its magic, until I was sated and ready to burst with happiness. When the finale came, the notes reaching a crescendo and then tumbling down like a spring shower, I glanced over at Dan. His eyes were closed, and his tanned face glowed.
It’s a love song. From nowhere the thought dropped into my mind. I tried to catch it but it slipped away, sinking like a pebble in water, leaving me with memories more vague than ripples.
‘Wow,’ Dan’s voice was barely a whisper.
I was embarrassed, and busied myself disassembling Mia’s flute. The urge to use my mind was strong and it was hard work resisting it. With slow, exaggerated movements I laid the pieces in the case, closed the lid and flicked down the catches. Dan cleared his throat. ‘What do you do for an encore?’
My cheeks were on fire but I managed to smile. ‘It’s your turn now.’
‘If you think I’m following that then you are seriously deluded.’ He nodded at the clock on the wall. ‘It’s lunchtime. I’ll show you where to leave your flute before we go and eat.’
As we walked over to Melody House, Dan asked if I’d signed up for any of the afternoon’s sporting activities.
‘Not yet. I meant to ask Lucy what she was doing.’
‘I’m going sailing. My boat’s a solo, but you can squeeze two people in, if you’re up for it?’
‘Sounds like fun.’
‘Is that a yes?’
‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘It is.’
There was a buzz of chatter coming from the dining room that paused as we entered, then restarted with a fresh intensity. I knew from the furtive, and not so furtive, glances directed my way that I was the topic of conversation. Dan looked worried and positioned himself between the diners and me as we queued for lunch. I’d been ravenous but suddenly I wasn’t so hungry. I took a couple of sandwiches with fillings I didn’t recognise. I loaded my plate with an apple and a carton of juice, then looked around for Lucy. A wall of faces stared back at me. The older students quickly looked away when I caught their eye but the younger kids gazed back with unbridled curiosity.
‘There’s Lucy,’ Dan nodded to the back of the room where Lucy and Claudia were sharing an otherwise empty table. He weaved round the tables glancing back occasionally to make sure that I was following.
It was painfully clear that I was being talked about from the way the conversation trailed off, only to restart after I’d passed by. With a growing feeling of dread I put my tray down and slid into the seat next to Lucy’s. Dan sat on my other side.
‘What?’ I asked, not really sure that I wanted to know.
‘What, what?’ asked Lucy, trying and failing to sound as if she genuinely hadn’t a clue what I was asking her.
‘Why is everyone staring at me?’
Claudia waved a half-eaten sandwich at me. ‘It’s nothing. Little children, that’s all, spreading the rumours.’
‘Rumours?’ My heart pounded.
‘It’s no secret that you’re the girl without the memory. There was something about you on the local news. Erin McKeever’s still not here. People make…’ her eyes narrowed as she searched for the correct word, ‘assumptions.’
‘They think I’m Erin?’
Claudia shrugged. ‘Maybe, but that would be good, no? At least then you find out who you are.’
‘I guess so.’ I bit into a sandwich and chewed mechanically. My thoughts were all over the place. I badly wanted to know who I was, but at the same time knowing scared me.
‘It must be strange,’ Claudia continued. ‘Do you feel loneliness?’
‘Amber wouldn’t be the only one to be homesick,’ said Dan. ‘It’s the first time that many of the students here have been away from their families. They soon get over it. It doesn’t take long to make friends, especially when there’s so much to do. Amber and I are sailing after lunch. What have you two signed up for?’
‘Volleyball,’ said Lucy.
‘Same.’ Claudia drained her drink. ‘I get dessert. Who wants anything?’
‘Me. The Waterside chocolate cake is to die for. Does your mum make it?’ Lucy leaned over me to aim her question at Dan.
‘Mum, cook?’ Dan laughed. ‘She’s a musician. Luckily for us she’s finally accepted that music is what she does best. Waterside now has a chef.’
‘Your mother is very good music maker.’ Claudia stood up. ‘I get you a big slice of cake, Lucy.’
I finished my sandwiches and apple, then walked with Dan through the woods to the loch. A couple of instructors, wearing red polo shirts, were lifting kayaks out of a long wooden shed in preparation for the afternoon. They called out a greeting. Dan called back to them as he threaded his way between the
sailing dinghies perched on wheeled frames.
‘Your boats have wheels!’
‘The wheels are the launching trolleys,’ said Dan. ‘The trolley is used to transport the boat down to the water.’ A swarm of tiny winged insects buzzed around us. One landed on my arm and Dan slapped it away.
‘Don’t! You’ll hurt it.’
‘It’s a mosquito.’
‘And?’
Dan stared at me as if I was out of my mind. ‘They bite.’
Indignation welled inside me. ‘There’s still no need to hurt them.’
‘Mosquitos eat you alive if you let them.’
‘Surely there’s another way of dealing with them?’ I couldn’t explain why I felt so passionate about protecting the tiny biting creatures.
‘You can get a repellent,’ said Dan. ‘Mostly I just kill them.’ He laughed at my horrified expression. ‘Clearly you’re not from around here. The mosquito is public enemy number one.’
I shivered, not liking Dan’s casual attitude to killing something just because it annoyed you.
‘Cold? That’s my boat there, the one with the yellow hull. Come and help me pull her down to the loch. You’ll soon warm up.’
By the time we’d got the boat on the water and I’d pulled the launch trolley away from the shoreline, I was extremely hot. I’d also stopped being annoyed with Dan over the mosquitoes. There was barely enough room for two in the boat. Any embarrassment I felt at being squashed up so close to Dan disappeared as he taught me the basics of sailing. To skim across the loch, with the wind in my face and the water hissing under my feet, was sheer magic. When I took a turn at the wooden helm it was like handling a well-trained animal. The wood vibrated with excitement yet responded to my lightest touch.
‘You’re a natural,’ Dan told me. His face was proud, as if I’d achieved something incredibly clever. I put my skill down to a lucky quirk of birth. Or was it? For all I knew I could be a keen sailor. A while later my thoughts turned to Erin McKeever. At once the pleasure and happiness I’d been feeling drained away. What was I doing out here, in the middle of a loch, having fun with a boy who in some ways felt so familiar, yet I hardly knew? I should be indoors, searching for my true identity. Erin was a definite lead. I would start with her. I faced Dan, shouting loudly to make myself heard over the noisy susurration of the water. ‘Can we go back?’