Remember Me: The gripping psychological thriller with a jaw-dropping twist.

by Lynda Renham

  ‘Sometimes you look familiar,’ I say without thinking.

  ‘I do?’ she says, grabbing her bag. ‘I guess there are a lot of women like me, brown haired with glasses.’

  She pulls her satchel bag over her shoulder and I see what she means. She is quite plain and not at all eye catching. Perhaps Chris is right. Maybe she does lack confidence. I should be flattered that she thinks I have good taste with interior design.

  ‘Do you need help on Saturday?’ she asks.

  Oh no, that’s the last thing I want.

  ‘No, everything’s in hand.’

  She nods.

  ‘Shall we go,’ she says and before I can stop her she has grabbed the stroller. We reach the door and one of the waitresses goes to open it, kneeling down to pinch Ben’s cheek as she does so.

  ‘He’s so gorgeous,’ she says looking at Sharni.

  ‘Thanks,’ she smiles.

  ‘How old is he?’

  I open my mouth but Sharni says, ‘almost two.’

  ‘He’s a credit,’ says the girl, opening the door.

  ‘He is,’ smiles Sharni and this time the smile reaches her eyes.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I check the notebook again and then recount the pills. It doesn’t make sense. I’d been really careful. I know I have. I curse silently. I’m so uptight about this evening. I really needed something to calm me down. My heart has been racing for hours. Just one would help. I know I’d got upset about Sharni’s bedroom but I’m certain I didn’t take any that evening. Chris had talked me out of it. I lock the bathroom door and guiltily empty the cabinet but there’s nothing. I count them again and then with trembling hands grab my phone and google ‘diazepam and memory loss’.

  You could experience amnesia when taking this medicine in high doses.

  I stare in horror at the bottle. Had I been forgetting to write it down? I take one and swallow it with water from the tap. I can’t entertain in this state. I write it shakily in the book and date it. I must remember to put the date in future. I push the bottle to the back of the cabinet. I’ll make an appointment with Dr Rawlins. He’s very understanding. Maybe I need something else to keep the anxiety under control. I look at myself in the mirror and then pull out my make-up bag. There are dark circles under my eyes and my complexion is dull.

  ‘Do you want a glass of Prosecco?’ calls Chris. ‘I’ve just opened a bottle to get us in the party mood.’

  One glass won’t hurt. At least I’ll be relaxed when they arrive.

  ‘Great,’ I call back. ‘I’m just doing my hair.’

  I wonder if Chris will notice Sharni’s new hairstyle. I spray dry shampoo on to mine to give it a lift and then put on my make-up. Chris tries the door and I groan when I remember I had locked it.

  ‘Sorry,’ I mumble.

  ‘Why are you locking the door?’ he asks.

  ‘Force of habit,’ I say, taking the Prosecco.

  ‘You look nice,’ he says kissing me on the cheek.

  ‘You don’t think I’m fat do you?’

  He looks surprised.

  ‘Fat, no of course not. I like a woman with a bit of meat on her.’

  ‘So, you do think I’m fat?’

  ‘No, you’re fine.’

  I sigh.

  ‘Is Ben okay?’

  ‘No, he won’t go down, at least not with me. Is there anything else I can do?’

  I shake my head.

  ‘The table looks great,’ he adds, kissing me. ‘Well done.’

  ‘The Melba toasts aren’t as good as Sharni’s,’ I say. ‘Do you think I should take those off the table?’

  ‘Of course not. Honestly you women,’ he says, hurrying down the hall. ‘Ben’s screaming. Don’t be long will you?’

  I throw back the Prosecco and take a look at myself in the mirror. I look half dead. I’d been undecided about what to wear. It had occurred to me to wear the new dress I’d bought with Sharni but decide to wear my black cocktail dress instead, with a red shawl to brighten it up. That might help my sallow complexion.

  *

  ‘This is bloody impressive,’ says Helen, saluting me. ‘I couldn’t do this to save my life.’

  She smells of tobacco and Body Shop’s White Musk. Chris takes her coat and I offer her a mini salmon quiche.

  ‘Wine or Prosecco?’ Chris asks.

  ‘Ooh Prosecco, darling, what else?’

  ‘Where’s your new fella?’ I ask.

  ‘Ah,’ she laughs. ‘That didn’t work out.’

  She looks at the new photos on the wall and I feel myself swell with pride.

  ‘They’re good,’ she says, taking a closer look.

  ‘Our neighbour, Sharni, took them,’ says Chris proudly.

  ‘Yeah, I’ve heard about her. The neighbour from heaven isn’t she? Will she come with a halo tonight?’

  ‘Helen,’ I reprimand.

  ‘That’s your teacher voice,’ she laughs.

  ‘What do you mean?’ asks Chris. I can almost see the hairs prickle on the back of his neck.

  ‘Well, she is a bit perfect isn’t she?’ says Helen. ‘Aside from giving you your bloody vase back.’

  ‘Helen’s just envious because she’ll never be the neighbour from heaven,’ I laugh, attempting to ease the tension.

  ‘The neighbour from hell, that’s me.’

  ‘Well, we’re going to ask about the vase tonight,’ says Chris, forcing a smile.

  ‘Where’s Ben?’ asks Helen, settling herself on the couch.

  ‘In bed and I hope he sleeps through,’ I say. ‘I’m knackered.’

  ‘I’m still getting over our Ikea trip. Those frames look good though.’

  There’s a light tap at the front door.

  ‘That’ll be Sharni and Tom.’

  Butterflies flutter in my stomach and I realise that I’m nervous, and even slightly intimidated by Sharni.

  ‘Come on in,’ I hear Chris say.

  Helen stands up and we both wait expectantly. I can’t imagine how silly we look. It’s not like royalty have just arrived. Sharni strolls in and the smell of her perfume reminds me that I had forgotten to put mine on. Just as well because I was going to put on Grapefruit too. Hers doesn’t smell in the least old. Chris takes her coat and I have to fight back a gasp. She’s wearing my flowery chiffon dress and the lemon cardigan. What’s even worse is that she looks spectacular in them. Long dangling earrings complement the look. She smiles at me. I can’t believe she is wearing that dress. How could she? I stupidly feel like crying. I’ll never be able to wear it now without thinking of Sharni.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind,’ she says.

  ‘No, of course not,’ I say, my voice emotionless.

  The dress that once felt special now feels pointless and extravagant.

  Her new bob is glossy. She looks different somehow. The new hairstyle seems to have changed the shape of her face. The diazepam hasn’t kicked in as much as I’d have liked and my palms feel sweaty. Why would Sharni buy the same dress? I consider taking another diazepam to calm myself down. After all, one more won’t hurt.

  ‘This looks beautiful,’ says Sharni, looking at the table. She kisses me and envelopes me in the warmth of her scent.

  ‘Thanks for inviting us,’ says Tom, handing me a bunch of flowers.

  ‘That’s so kind,’ says Chris.

  ‘Hello,’ Sharni says to Helen. ‘I think we met in Marks.’

  ‘Good memory,’ Helen nods while taking a Melba toast. ‘I’ve been admiring your photos of Ben.’

  Sharni looks at the walls and a smile beams across her face.

  ‘They look terrific in those frames.’

  ‘Let’s get you both a drink,’ says Chris.

  ‘If you’ll excuse me,’ I say hurrying to the kitchen with the flowers. I lay them in the sink and dash upstairs to check on Ben. He’s sleeping soundly and I sigh with relief. One more diazepam won’t hurt. I lock the bathroom door and sniff under my armpits. I’m so hot and
my palms are sweatier than ever. I take a pill from the bottle and swallow it, reminding myself that I must write it in the notebook before I go to bed.

  ‘Clare made them. I think it’s the first time she has,’ Chris is saying as I walk back into the room.

  ‘We were just complimenting you on the toasts,’ says Tom, patting me on the shoulder.

  I try not to glare at Chris. He didn’t have to tell them it was the first time I’d made them. I refill my glass.

  ‘I had a bit of time to spare,’ I say.

  ‘I hear you’re going to be looking after Ben when Clare teaches,’ says Helen.

  ‘Yes, I’m looking forward to it,’ replies Sharni.

  Helen bites into a Melba toast.

  ‘These are bloody good,’ she grins.

  I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t made them.

  ‘So, you don’t work full-time as a photographer then?’ Helen asks. She has a glint in her eye and I try to give her a warning look.

  ‘I work from home,’ says Sharni, before sipping her Prosecco. ‘Ben is no trouble.’

  ‘It’s very good of you. I said to Clare, not many women would have another woman’s child free of charge.’

  ‘What are friends for but to help out?’ smiles Sharni.

  ‘As long as you don’t take on too much,’ Tom says, kissing her on the forehead. Helen raises her eyebrows and then holds out her glass to Chris.

  ‘I’ve got some chilli on the stove,’ I say more hurriedly than I meant. Why doesn’t the damn diazepam kick in. ‘I’ll bring it in. Chris, can you get the nachos?’

  ‘I can do that,’ Sharni says.

  ‘Heaven,’ mutters Helen and I give her a scathing look.

  I must tell Chris not to give her any more Prosecco.

  *

  ‘Personally I think social media is a bloody waste of everyone’s time,’ slurs Helen. ‘I don’t get what Instagram is all about except for all the narcissists to show off. What’s your take on Instagram Sharni? You’re a photographer after all.’

  ‘I’m not on Instagram,’ smiles Sharni.

  ‘You’re on Facebook though,’ says Helen quickly.

  ‘You’ll never get me on Facebook,’ says Tom.

  ‘Nor me,’ agrees Chris.

  ‘I barely go on it,’ smiles Sharni.

  ‘Ah, I wondered,’ says Helen blatantly. ‘I sent you a friend request.’

  ‘Oh really,’ says Sharni warmly. ‘I’ll have to take a look.’

  ‘I’ll get the dessert,’ I say.

  ‘You ought to put those flowers in water,’ winks Helen.

  ‘Let me help,’ says Sharni.

  ‘It’s okay, you relax.’

  I want to snap I don’t need any help.

  There’s a hiccup from the baby monitor and I use that as an excuse to go upstairs. Ben is still sleeping and I hesitate outside the bathroom door. I shouldn’t take another diazepam. I’m obviously taking too many if they’re not working.

  ‘If you’re not going then I will. I’m dying for a pee,’ says Helen from behind me.

  ‘Helen, what are you up to?’

  ‘What do you mean? I’m not up to anything.’

  ‘I feel like you’re baiting Sharni.’

  ‘Well, she’s too good to be true if you ask me and what’s she doing with your hairstyle. Jesus, she’ll have your husband next.’

  I feel like she has slapped me and I reel backwards.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘I’d ask for the bloody vase if I were you.’

  She closes the bathroom door and I stand transfixed for a few moments. I take a deep breath and go back downstairs.

  ‘I’ll put the flowers in water, can you get a vase Chris,’ I say pointedly and nod towards Sharni while fighting the annoyance that threatens to overwhelm me. Chris frowns at me but turns to Sharni and says nonchalantly,

  ‘Ah, Sharni, now you and Tom have the house a bit straight would it be okay to have our vase back, or do you still need it?’

  Helen nudges me as she walks into the room.

  ‘I gave Clare the vase,’ Sharni says simply, looking directly at me. I prickle under her stare.

  ‘Oh, well there you go then,’ says Helen. ‘Why don’t you put the flowers in that?’

  I grab a bottle of wine and empty the contents into my glass. I know I shouldn’t drink any more, not with the diazepam but I’m finding the whole evening a big strain.

  ‘I don’t think you did Sharni,’ I say, throwing back the wine. ‘I’d have remembered. It’s a special vase.’

  The air is now thick with tension.

  ‘Well, someone’s got it wrong,’ says Helen.

  ‘I came round with it Clare, don’t you remember? I was a bit late bringing it back, I apologised for that. You were having trouble with your washing machine at the time.’

  I remember that. The water wouldn’t drain and I was getting irritated because the door wouldn’t open. I’d gone to find a screwdriver when I’d heard the doorbell. Sharni had stood with a packet in her hand. I’m sure that was all she had in her hand. Surely I would have remembered if she was holding a vase.

  ‘The postman knocked but you obviously didn’t hear him,’ she’d smiled. I’m certain there was only a package in her hand. It had been the book Chris had ordered from Amazon.

  ‘I remember you brought a package,’ I say.

  Sharni holds my gaze.

  ‘I gave you the vase and you put it under the sink,’ she insists.

  ‘Let’s get it then,’ says Helen as she marches into the kitchen.

  ‘Clare …’ says Chris, laying his hand on my arm. I shrug it off and follow Helen into the kitchen. I wouldn’t have put it under the sink. It’s a special vase. I always put it on the top shelf on the Welsh dresser. Chris knows that.

  ‘I wouldn’t have put it in the cupboard under the sink,’ I hiss.

  ‘Perhaps you were in a rush,’ he says.

  ‘You don’t believe me?’

  I realised I’ve raised my voice and feel my face grow hot. Helen rummages in the cupboard while Sharni stands with her arms folded. I throw back the rest of the wine in my glass and say,

  ‘I wouldn’t bother Helen, it isn’t …’ But I’m stopped as her arm is pulled back and she holds up the vase, the colourful hand-painted vase from Ireland. I fight back a gasp.

  ‘Is this it?’ she asks, her cheeks red. ‘It was in a carrier bag’

  ‘But …’ I begin.

  Helen hands me the vase.

  ‘Can I go out the back for a smoke?’ she asks.

  ‘Sure,’ says Chris as he nods to the back door.

  ‘I’ll join you,’ says Tom.

  Sharni and Chris look at me. The door slams and I watch Helen offer Tom a cigarette. My shoulders are hunched and I feel an ache in my neck.

  ‘I didn’t know Tom smoked,’ I say to break the awkwardness of the moment.

  Chris opens the fridge and grabs a bottle of wine that is chilling. He tops up our glasses and says, ‘I think I’ll join the smokers. I could do with some air.’

  Sharni watches him leave and throws back some of the wine.

  ‘Tom and I had a bit of an upset some years back. We almost broke up in fact. We found different ways to cope. Tom took up smoking and I gave myself the luxury of a breakdown.’

  I clench my hands.

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  She shrugs.

  ‘It’s past.’

  She nods at the vase.

  ‘I’m sorry about the vase mix-up. I don’t know why you don’t remember.’

  ‘I get anxious,’ I say. ‘I … I lost a child and ever since …’

  Tears fill my eyes and I grab some kitchen towel. I don’t know why I’m telling Sharni this.

  ‘I’m sorry Clare, when did that happen?’ she asks, looking genuinely surprised.

  I avoid her question and say with a smile, ‘Anyway, I have Ben now.’

  ‘Yes, you do,’ she says, and the
emotion disappears from her face. Her tone is hard and almost resentful. I feel myself shiver.

  ‘If there’s anything I can do …’ she adds as she puts her arm around me, but her embrace is stiff and I sense she is uncomfortable.

  ‘They’re coming in, why don’t you go upstairs and freshen up. I’ll make coffee,’ she says removing her arm.

  I nod and pull away. I go upstairs and check on Ben. I can’t go on like this. It isn’t fair on Ben. I’m forgetting too many things. I’ll make an appointment to see the doctor first thing Monday. But I don’t understand why I would put the vase under the sink. I just wouldn’t do that.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘I really don’t remember her returning it,’ I say.

  ‘Then how do you explain it being there?’ Chris says throwing his shirt over a chair.

  ‘I honestly don’t think I would put it there,’ I shrug.

  ‘What are you saying Clare?’

  I pull the duvet up and snuggle down in bed. The electric blanket is on and it’s cosy and warm. I could feel really relaxed if only I didn’t have this niggle in my head.

  ‘I don’t know. I only know I would have put it on the dresser if I had it. It’s too special to be pushed under the sink. I remember her coming round and I remember her bringing a package that the postman couldn’t get through the letterbox, but I don’t remember the vase.’

  ‘So you’re saying she put it there when you weren’t looking? She hid the vase under the sink and waited for us to ask for it so she could make you look stupid. Why would she want to do that?’

  He pulls back the duvet and I shiver.

  ‘Helen thinks she’s a bit too good to be true,’ I say in attempt to defend myself.

  ‘Oh great,’ he laughs, pulling me towards him. ‘And we trust her opinion do we? Compared to Helen everyone is too good to be true.’

  I snuggle into his chest.

  ‘Did you know Tom smoked?’ I ask.

  ‘Yeah, he smokes after a game of badminton.’

  His hand fondles my breast.

  ‘Did you know their marriage nearly broke up?’

  He shakes his head.

  ‘That’s why he started smoking. Sharni had a breakdown apparently,’ I say.

  He stops fondling and looks at me.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I don’t know, she wouldn’t say. Just that they had an upset and … Do you think Tom had an affair? He’s good looking isn’t he? I can imagine the women chasing him.’