by Dani Atkins
‘On a Sunday?’
‘You know I often have to work at weekends.’
‘Actually, I don’t know that. Amnesia. Remember?’
I could have dropped it then but something in his eyes had trip-wired my feminine intuition.
‘Does it have something to do with that call you got from work last night?’
For a moment he looked blank, then in quick succession another expression fell across his handsome face, followed swiftly by a look of regret.
‘Yes, it does actually. There’s some crisis I have to deal with that just can’t wait until Monday. You just have a relaxing day with your dad and I’ll call you tonight, OK?’
He left some ten minutes later, kissing me goodbye in the hall and shaking my father’s hand. We stood at the open doorway watching his car pull away from the kerb in a gleam of chrome and a squeal of rubber.
‘What a shame he had to leave so soon,’ said my father at last, when the car had finally disappeared from sight. I knew he wasn’t sorry at all and gave him a long look which spoke volumes. But it did make me wonder how many more lies I was going to be told that day.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully enough. I spent an hour or so trying, and failing, to get my father’s cat to like me, another hour wondering what urgent Cathy-related crisis had suddenly required Matt’s presence in London, and the rest of the time trying very hard, and also failing, not to think about Jimmy at all. The only bright point of the day had been an unexpected telephone call from Sarah who had just returned from her honeymoon. She and David were spending the night with her parents, but we made arrangements to meet for lunch the following day before she and her new husband returned to Harrogate.
I fell asleep that night with something pleasant to look forward to and, for once, was not disturbed by dreams.
10
We’d arranged to meet by a small bistro in the high street, and as usual I was there long before Sarah arrived. The weather had turned even colder overnight and although wrapped in warm scarf and gloves I could feel the December air, heavy with the threat of snow, taking vicious swipes at my face and legs.
And then Sarah arrived, spilling out of the taxi in a tumble of warmth and sunshine which instantly transported me back to memories of our youth. She enveloped me in the most rib-breaking hug, quite a feat for someone a good six inches smaller than me, and it was some time before either of us felt able to break apart.
When we did, the tears that were in my eyes matched those sparkling in her own and we both erupted into laughter, which was the only way we could stop ourselves from crying.
‘How are you, my lovely?’
It took a while to reply, for the old greeting had brought a huge lump to my throat, and my face was still deeply buried into her shoulder. We were getting some pretty curious stares from passers-by too, but neither us could care less about that.
‘Still alive, but slightly insane.’ I felt that was a pretty accurate précis of my current situation.
‘No change at all there then,’ she replied, linking her arm into mine and steering us both towards the restaurant. ‘Let’s get out of the cold and you can tell me all about it.’ Adding impishly as we went, ‘Do you know, it’s really much colder here than it is in St Lucia at the moment?’
We waited until we were seated and had ordered drinks before speaking properly. And then, when we did, we both began at once.
‘So how are things really, have you got your memory back yet?’
‘So tell me all about your honeymoon.’
We both laughed and waited for the other to back down.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Sarah, ‘I do believe my head wound and amnesia inquiry trumps your honeymoon trivia.’
‘OK,’ I said with a smile. ‘What do you want to hear about first? The mugging I don’t remember or all the juicy stuff that came next?’
Sarah’s suntanned face lit up with obvious delight. ‘The juicy stuff, obviously.’ But before I could commence she changed her mind. ‘You know what, I want to hear it all, every last detail.’
‘That might take some time,’ I cautioned. ‘Don’t you and David have a train to catch this afternoon?’
She gave a shrug, as though such a trifling detail was of absolutely no importance.
‘If I’m not there, he’ll just have to leave without me. We’ve only been married for five minutes – he probably won’t even miss me!’
I doubted that very much but took a long and steadying sip of wine and began to fill her in on what had happened to me since the night of her hen party.
She listened intently as I spoke, taking it all in, interrupting now and then when she wanted further clarification about something. She was also much more fascinated than anyone else had previously been by my alternate reality.
‘So what am I like in your other past? Please say I’m tall, thin and beautiful. Oh no, better yet, please tell me that Cathy has got fat and ugly. Now that really would be something.’
I laughed. ‘Sorry to disappoint you, but Cathy was even more gorgeous than she’d been when we were younger. Although a good deal nastier, I have to say.’
Sarah pursed her lips wryly. ‘No trouble imagining that.’
I looked at her carefully. Sarah had never been once to mince her words where Cathy was concerned. I was relaying events as they happened, so I hadn’t yet told her about the call I had intercepted to Matt’s mobile. I was pretty certain she was going to have something quite colourful to say about that.
‘So really, this other life you thought you were living was the total pits? Correct? Everyone was sick, or horribly scarred or dead? And all the good stuff that has gone on in your life just didn’t happen at all? Have I got that right?’
‘In a nutshell, yes.’
‘And yet you still went around trying to prove to everyone that you needed to get back to that place?’
‘Well, yes.’ I could see where she was heading with this.
‘Everyone’s right. You are crazy. Did no one ever tell you that when you conjure up a fantasy world it’s meant to be better than the real one – not a hundred times worse.’
Only she could pronounce me insane as though it were merely a charming quirk of character.
‘I do know what you’re saying. But even so, I still wanted to “go back”, if that’s the right way to put it, to what felt like my proper reality. But now I don’t. Well, not since the other night.’
‘Oohh, did something happen with Matt?’
I paused for a long second before replying, knowing my answer would register off the scale in terms of shock and astonishment.
‘No, Jimmy.’
I swear the suntan literally paled for a moment as her eyes widened in disbelief at my words.
‘Excuse me.’ She snagged the arm of a passing waiter. ‘Do you think you can bring us another bottle of this?’ She indicated our almost empty bottle of wine. ‘I have a feeling we’re going to need it.’
I didn’t know what I expected her to say when I finally finished telling her about the hotel incident. Perhaps I was expecting shock, even disappointment, at learning how readily I had been willing to cheat on Matt. What I wasn’t expecting was her unequivocal approval.
‘About bloody time.’
‘What?’
‘You heard me.’
‘Yes I did. But did you hear me? He turned me down. He just wasn’t interested. And the following day he could hardly bear to look at me. Now call me crazy, but in any of my previous lives that’s a pretty clear message of “I don’t want to do this”.’
‘Phah,’ Sarah retorted. ‘That means nothing. You’re the only person in the world who exists, as far as Jimmy is concerned. It’s the way it has always been.’
‘You weren’t there, Sarah. You didn’t see how disgusted he looked. He couldn’t get away from me fast enough.’
‘And did you ask him about it the next day, when you were coming home?’
‘No,’ I replied miserabl
y, remembering the awkward car journey. ‘Neither of us dared to bring it up. It was just too embarrassing. Too humiliating.’
Sarah shook her head. ‘There’s more to this than you realise. There has to be. Jimmy wouldn’t act like that with anyone, let alone you. I know you haven’t seen much of him over the last few years, but trust me on this one. He’s still every bit as much in love with you as he was in high school.’
‘You’re wrong,’ I corrected glumly.
‘We’ll see.’
We’d reached an impasse. There was nothing more to say about that night. So we finally – and thankfully, on my part – moved on to the much less complicated topic of Sarah’s wedding and honeymoon. She had stopped off on the way to the restaurant to collect the proofs of her wedding photos, and once our plates had been cleared, she spread the large album on the table.
Never had I seen a bride look more beautiful and glowing with happiness than Sarah had on that day. As I turned the heavy embossed pages of the album, I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with sadness that I hadn’t been there to share that incredible moment with her. She must have known what I was thinking, and seen the regret in my smile, as my fingers hovered beside a photograph of her and David laughing happily under a falling cloud of confetti.
‘I wanted to postpone the wedding, you know,’ she said softly, ‘when we knew what had happened to you, but your dad and Matt wouldn’t hear of it.’
‘They were quite right. I’d have been furious if you’d done that.’
I carried on turning page after page. Here now were photographs of the reception, the tables beautifully decorated with deep red floral displays which perfectly matched the crimson bows cinched around the back of the chairs.
‘It all looks so beautiful,’ I murmured.
Another page, and here were photographs of the guests, randomly taken after the meal. Matt’s handsome face looked up at me from several group photographs. Jimmy was there too, but always more in the background, not smiling directly towards the camera like my fiancé. I also couldn’t help noticing that in many of the photographs, Cathy was also present, never far away from Matt’s side. I paused to study her exquisite face and caught Sarah watching me.
‘She looked amazing, of course. That dress of hers was so tight she must have been sewn into it!’
I laughed. The deep red gown Cathy wore did indeed look as though it was moulded to her body like a second skin.
‘I think she was trying to upstage me.’
‘Never happen,’ I assured her, but after turning yet another page and seeing Cathy once more cosied up to Matt, this time on the dance floor, I just had to ask, ‘Did she stick by him like this all night?’
Sarah shrugged as though to say she didn’t know, but I could read her better than that. ‘God, she doesn’t miss a trick, does she?’
‘You know Cathy,’ Sarah pronounced.
And I was quiet for a moment. Yes I did know Cathy; but perhaps it was Matt who apparently I might not know that well.
‘And anyway,’ Sarah said, taking the album from me and firmly closing it. ‘It doesn’t matter how much eye-fluttering and cleavage-flashing she tries, you’re still the one he’s engaged to; still the one he’s been with for ever.’
I nodded, but I wasn’t sure a little detail like that would stop Cathy, not if she really set her mind to it.
‘I know you two have been going through a sticky patch in the last few months, but you keep assuring me that’s only about work stuff – not anything serious, not like what happened when you were at uni.’
I sat up sharply in my seat. ‘What? What happened when we were at uni? What are you talking about?’
She jumped guiltily then, and I could see the thought process flashing through her eyes as she considered a means of bluffing her way out of the gaffe she had just made. I repeated the question, trying to keep my voice even and calm.
‘What happened when we were at uni, Sarah? Tell me. It’s not fair that I don’t know.’
The laughter was gone from her voice but I could see that my plea had convinced her to tell me.
‘You and Matt had a major row and broke up for about four months or so in our second year.’
This was indeed news to me. Certainly Matt hadn’t thought to mention it, despite the fact there’d been every opportunity for him to do so when we had been talking about our relationship recently.
‘We broke up? But why? What happened?’
‘I can’t tell you.’
‘Don’t be daft, of course you can tell me,’ I cajoled. ‘I’m not going to get upset, or anything, I just want to know.’
‘No. It’s not that. I mean, I can’t tell you, because I don’t know.’
This was very strange indeed. How was it possible that Sarah didn’t know the details of something that must have been such a major event in my life? We’d always shared everything. Surely I would have told her all about it? But apparently not, she reported. Oh she’d certainly tried to get the story out of me on many occasions, but apparently I had refused to tell her anything.
‘Was I really upset about it?’ I queried.
‘Yes. Very. But you still wouldn’t give me any of the details. And believe me, I tried to get them out of you!’
I laughed then, imagining the third-degree tactics she had probably employed, all – apparently – without success.
She wagged her finger at me in warning, ‘And this is precisely why you should never keep secrets from your best friend. Because you never know when one day you’re going to get amnesia and need her to fill in the blanks!’
The restaurant was beginning to empty around us by then. And when I looked out the window I could see the day had darkened under a slate-coloured sky. There was still so much I wanted to talk to Sarah about but we’d simply run out of time. We settled the bill, and in order to eke out our last few minutes together, I said I’d walk with her to the taxi rank.
We were standing by the crossing, waiting for the lights to change, when it happened. The pedestrian lights had just turned to green and Sarah had already taken one step into the road when I first heard the siren. Strangely it didn’t sound far away and distant, but was instantly loud and strident, as though its arrival were imminent. My head darted up as I looked left and right for the approaching emergency vehicle. But the long grey road appeared clear in both directions: nothing was heading towards us. Yet the sound was everywhere, the discordant two-tone klaxon reverberating off the buildings and pavements. I looked around in confusion as other pedestrians began to traverse the road, surely walking blindly into the path of a speeding vehicle. Later it would occur to me how similar the situation was to my recent dream; the one where only I could see there was impending danger and everyone else was oblivious. But for now I had only one thought in mind, to snatch Sarah back from the looming threat. The siren was now so loud I could scarcely hear my own cry of warning as I reached out and grabbed her coat sleeve, literally snatching her backwards onto the kerb. I fully expected the thunder of the vehicle to cover the space where a moment earlier my friend had stood, but nothing came whistling past us in a blaze of flashing lights. The road remained empty.
The other pedestrians, those who had been crossing the road with Sarah, had by then all successfully made it safely to the other side, never once realising how close they had been to disaster.
‘Where did it go?’ I asked Sarah, unaware that my strange behaviour was now the object of some attention by the gaggle of ‘survivors’ on the other side of the street.
Sarah, to her credit, only looked a little shaky; as though being plucked from the path of invisible non-existent jeopardy was something she regularly contended with.
‘Where did what go?’
‘The siren.’ And when she continued to look at me blankly, ‘You must have heard it? It was heading right towards us!’ My voice trailed off as it slowly began to penetrate through my panic that the sound of the siren was actually not there any more. A horrible fee
ling of déjà vu came over me.
‘You didn’t hear it, did you?’
She shook her head.
‘But it was so deafening, as though it was almost on top of us.’
Another slow shake of the head.
I didn’t need her to tell me that no one had heard the sound but me, I could already see it in her eyes.
‘Has this happened before?’ she asked gently.
I thought of the alarm clock that wasn’t there, beeping in the night, and the numerous times my father’s aftershave had surrounded me like a cloud.
‘There’ve been a couple of times,’ I admitted slowly, ‘where I’ve heard things, smelt things even…’ My words died away.
‘You have to tell the doctor about this when you see him this week,’ she urged, and I knew she was right, even though I was loath to add another inexplicable symptom to my ever-increasing accumulation.
‘It might be something that’s really common with amnesia cases,’ she suggested, then seeing my gloomy response she tried a different tack altogether. ‘Or maybe, since you bumped your head, you now have these incredibly acute senses, and can hear and smell things the rest of us can’t.’
‘What, like a dog, you mean?’
She laughed then and gave me a hug. ‘Yeah, but a really pretty pedigree one.’
The doctor’s words stayed with me all the way down the marble flight of steps of the clinic, down the length of the exclusive London road, reserved primarily for offices of the medical profession, and into the busy bustling shopping street, heaving as it was with Christmas shoppers. It had been too much to anticipate a simple solution to my problems from the one consultation. But I had hoped for some answers at the very least; only what I had actually ended up with were a hundred more questions.
Nothing about the session had gone entirely as I had imagined, I mused, as I allowed myself to be carried along on a wave of shoppers and tourists, all busily trying to seize whatever bargains there were to be had in the days before Christmas. The clinic itself had been far more elegant and exclusive than I had expected, while the doctor’s offices had been far less intimidating; no scary leather consultation couch, no men in white jackets waiting in the wings to escort me to some secure facility if my story sounded just too outlandish to allow me to continue to live among ‘normal’ people.