by Bryce THOMAS
‘Are you all right, Lucy?’ asked the doctor, glancing up and seeing her, eyes closed, rubbing her head and scowling. Suddenly, everyone looked at her.
Still Lucy didn’t respond. Her mind was somewhere else as she gazed distractedly at the table in front of her. Her mother put down her fork and was about to say something to bring Lucy to attention. Ignoring their host was not good manners. She was a guest and could not be so rude as to ignore the doctor. But he placed his hand on Mrs. Lockhart’s forearm and, looking her in the eyes, he shook his head. Without uttering a single word the action clearly stated that Lucy was to be allowed to think out whatever it was in or on her mind. They all watched as she leaned back in her chair, pushed it backwards and stood up.
‘Where are you going?’ her mother asked, unable to restrain herself any longer. Lucy was being extremely bad mannered.
‘That woman,’ Lucy said calmly. ‘Who is that woman?’
‘What woman, for goodness sake?’ her mother queried. But Lucy didn’t answer. ‘She means the one with the silver car, I think,’ Loanne stated with a worried look on her face. ‘It’s all my fault really. I shouldn’t have told her about our mystery neighbours.’
‘Nonsense,’ Doctor Murray pronounced. ‘Any stimulus is good for Lucy at the moment. She seems to be recalling something. Anything that stimulates her memory is a bonus, anything that triggers a response. Just be patient and give her a little time. For several minutes they all watched Lucy in silence. All eating had ceased. Lucy just stood beside her chair; her eyes fixed on some point in a distant universe, her mind possibly somewhere out there as well.
‘I have to see the man,’ Lucy said suddenly.
‘The man?’ asked the doctor. ‘You mean the man in the farmhouse?’
‘I must warn him.’
‘Warn him?’ three voices said in unison.
‘I think he’s in danger. I must warn him.’
‘Danger? What on earth are you going on about, darling?’ her mother exclaimed.
‘That woman isn’t a police officer,’ Lucy stated blankly, shaking her head and scowling as she fixed her eyes on something closer than before, something in the corner of the room.
‘Police officer? What are you talking about?’
‘I was only joking,’ Loanne said soothingly. She gave Lucy a gentle smile. It brought Lucy back to the here and now. ‘I was just making conversation, Lucy. It was just a joke.’
Lucy shook her head. ‘No Loanne you were right.’ Her eyes looked around the room wildly. ‘I don’t know what part of my memory has returned. But one thing I do remember is that woman.’
Doctor Murray smiled and shook his head. He didn’t know what he had started by inviting Lucy to visit, but what he did know was that there was no way, as far as he could calculate, that Lucy had ever seen any of the people in his neighbourhood. For some reason, Lucy was still suffering from the dissociative fugue. ‘I haven’t actually seen the woman,’ he stated. ‘But I know Loanne has, because she has mentioned the goings on out there. But, Lucy,’ he said, now looking directly into her eyes, ‘who do you think that woman is?’
Lucy shrugged. Once again, they were all thinking she was delusional. She glanced at the window and then, without another word, sat back down at the table and finished eating her dinner. A thick silence settled on the room, smothering all conversation until, eventually, Loanne spoke. She had been fidgeting with the cutlery for some time, turning the spaghetti around on her fork until it contained a compressed roll of food, and then pressing the knot of pasta down against the plate with her knife, before extracting the fork just to commence the operation over again. ‘Lucy seems to know lots of things that we wouldn’t have expected her to know, Daddy.’ She looked directly at her father. ‘I believe her.’
Doctor Murray breathed out heavily. ‘Hmm.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘Your mother tells me you’ve never been on a horse in your life.’
Lucy shrugged. Up to now, all she knew is what she had been told. She could have been a ballet dancer for all she knew. But one thing she did know was that it was no good arguing with two adults. It was a basic child’s instinct to recognize that implacable fact of life, the authority of parents. Their size meant you could not argue with them. Their control over you as providers of everything meant that you could not argue with them. And their age and experience always meant that they seemed to have an answer for everything. Everything! No exceptions. When they say a child is wrong then she must be wrong.
‘Well it’s true,’ her mother exclaimed. ‘She didn’t even like the open countryside before that blinking accident.’
‘So how come I don’t need to learn how to ride then?’ Lucy countered.
Her mother shook her head, her face creased with perplexion. She waved her hands in a resigned arc. ‘I really have no idea darling. I just don’t know.’
Mrs. Lockhart looked at Doctor Murray for an explanation, but he shrugged and shook his head. ‘I can’t explain what you seem to be saying,’ he stated.
‘Remember, I didn’t know Lucy before her accident.’
‘What, you’re saying I am lying?’
‘No, of course not,’ the doctor replied. ‘I am simply telling you that I can’t explain how Lucy knows things that you have explained she should not know. I mean, the horse riding isn’t the half of it. Remember what happened at the hospital?’
Mrs. Lockhart breathed a deep sigh. Shaking her head she said, ‘Well, I’m telling you, Lucy never studied foreign languages. As I recall, she used to pretend to speak Chinese and all sorts of other languages when she heard anything like them on the television, but that was when she was a small child. She was just pretending like all children do. And one thing I can tell you is she never rode a horse and she never missed a football match in her life.’
Throughout the conversation Lucy remained silent. What they were saying just didn’t make any sense at all. And when she finally does remember somebody from before her accident they throw doubt on it. ‘I’m getting another drink of water,’ she said, rising from her seat and reaching for the empty water jug. She turned, leaving the rest of them discussing how someone could possible have a natural ability to ride a horse. After all, they were saying as she disappeared into the kitchen, you can see horse riders on TV every day of the week.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Lucy went to the kitchen sink and began to fill the jug with water. What could she do to persuade them that she remembered the woman? No answer came to her, but she still had an insuppressible feeling that it was important to talk to the man at the farm cottage.
Placing the jug down on the worktop she quietly went over to the kitchen door, lifted the latch, pulled open the door, and stepped outside, closing it again behind her. Without realizing it, she found herself running down the yard and past the stables. She climbed over the gate into the field and sprinted as fast as she could. She was surprised just how easy running seemed. She breathed heavily but evenly as her legs carried her nearer and nearer to the opposite fence.
‘Lucy!’ she heard her mother calling behind her. ‘Lucy, come back here!’
But Lucy was on a mission. As she climbed over the first fence, she was determined that nobody and nothing was going to stop her now. She didn’t look back. Ahead she could see the window of the grey-white farmhouse, the window which Loanne watched when out riding, the one through which they had both seen the man’s face. With voices following on behind her, she half vaulted over the second post and rail fence, only stopping momentarily on the top rail with her right foot, to glance back, before she pushed herself forward over the barrier. Sprinting faster now, she ran down the bank and into the neighbouring farmyard and, with her lungs burning, she arrived at the door beside the curtained window.
Now she had got close to the place, for some reason it didn’t seem to be drawing her as urgently as when she’d been thinking about it at the dinner table. In her mind, she had pictured the woman who’d been at the side of the farmhou
se. She had been sure she’d recognized her, though somehow the woman seemed much older than the figure she had captured in her mind.
Lucy stood and looked at the door. Old green paint flaked off the door panels, and the letter box had worn white where the original green paint had rubbed off over years and years of passing mail. The door set the frame for the rest of the picture. The jamb was rotted away at the base and as she looked around the yard she saw that the bottoms of the old lime-washed walls were covered in years of green moss, crusted with dust and rain splatter, turning them black near to the ground, rising to a murky grey colour about a foot higher. Years of dirt and leaf debris from the yard had abutted the very base of the walls, and only a mild effort had been expended in clearing the scree from the front of the door.
After her spontaneous action, doubts were now welling up inside her. What am I doing here, she thought? Her head spun around as she examined the neglected dwelling. The whole place looked empty and deserted. But she was here now, so slowly, she lifted her fist to the door. A moment’s hesitation and then she hammered it against the wooden panel. There was no sound from within except for the empty echo returning from the other side of an empty hallway. Behind her, again, she heard her mother calling; nearer now. She didn’t look around, but instead, hammered on the door again. This time she heard the turning of a key in an old and rusty lock.
Again her mother’s voice called out behind her, ‘Lucy, stop this!’
A crack opened between the door and the jamb and a pale blue eye inspected the caller. The door widened a little more and the side of a man’s face appeared. It was the same face that she had seen at the window. ‘Yes?’ two thin lips in a rock hard, smoothly shaven face asked, hardly moving.
Suddenly Lucy could find nothing to say. She stared up at the face. ‘I… I…’
The face softened a little as a thin smile worked its way from one corner of the mouth, and as it broke the mask, the eye above smiled as well. It gave Lucy a burst of confidence.
‘I came to warn you,’ she blurted out.
‘Lucy!’ her mother’s voice was near now.
‘Lucy,’ she heard the doctor’s voice.
She glanced around. Had she run out of time? Her mother, the doctor and Loanne were at the rail fence. Her mother was struggling over it, helped by the hand of Doctor Murray. Lucy turned to the face which was no longer detached. The door had widened and a tall thin, gangly man in dark trousers and an open necked, white shirt stood before her. He had a shaven head that made him look rather austere. Lucy thought that if he had painted it red, he was so thin he might have looked like a match stick, but she was surprised how clean and tidy he looked. Everything around him had led her to assume that the man would be as derelict as the place in which he was living. But that wasn’t the case. When he spoke, it was without any discernable accent. ‘Warn me?’ he said rather amused. ‘And just what are you warning me about, young lady?’
Lucy suddenly felt rather foolish. She swept a stray hair off her face and, despite her newly formed reservations, fought on. ‘That woman!’ she said trying to steady her breathing.
Mrs. Lockhart had pulled off her shoes and, carrying them in one hand, was struggling down the grassy bank towards her. ‘Lucy, stop being silly!’
‘What woman?’ the man’s smiling face asked. He seemed to be finding it all very amusing.
‘She’s not a police woman,’ Lucy said, not sure how she was going to explain why she was there and why the statement should mean anything to him.
The smile disappeared and a frown crinkled the man’s forehead. ‘Who are you? Who sent you here?’ He began to glare at Lucy. ‘And just what makes you think she might be anything to do with the police?’ His face was serious now. The eyes were keen and alert, but there was no longer any humour there.
Lucy hadn’t expected that. She examined the man’s face for a sign of recognition of what she was talking about. ‘Er… the woman in the silver car,’ she stated as if that would make things clearer.
‘Why are you here?’ he asked crossly. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I know that woman,’ Lucy tried to explain as her mother’s hand landed on her shoulder.
‘I’m ever so sorry,’ gasped Mrs. Lockhart, heaving to get air into her lungs whilst talking at the same time.
‘She’s not been well.’
Lucy didn’t turn away from the door and the man’s face didn’t seem to acknowledge that he had even heard her mother speak.
‘Who sent you?’ the man asked again, his eyes now drilling into Lucy’s.
‘She’s had an accident recently,’ Mrs. Lockhart’s voice cut in.
The man lifted his head and looked past Lucy. ‘Is that so?’ he said. ‘I presume she’s your daughter?’
Mrs. Lockhart nodded, still breathless. She swallowed and took a deep breath. ‘Yes,’ she said, tugging at Lucy’s shoulders with both hands. ‘Now come along Lucy, darling. This isn’t helping!’
Lucy spun around. ‘I don’t need help,’ she shouted. ‘I don’t need people telling me who I am. I need people to start believing me.’
‘But you don’t know these people! You have never met this man or any of his visitors in your life!’ She shook Lucy gently. ‘Now listen. If you carry on like this, Doctor Murray is going to have to take drastic action. Do you understand?’
Lucy looked past her mother and scrutinised the doctor’s face. His mouth had dropped open and he was scowling. ‘Er, I am not sure what your mother means,’ he said kindly. ‘I’m only interested in finding out what you remember, that is all.’
‘Well then, you’d be interested in knowing that I remember that the woman who was here this morning is not a police woman.’
‘Well, who said she was, Lucy?’ her mother exclaimed. ‘For goodness sake!’
Lucy turned back to face the man. ‘Yes, who said she was?’ he demanded. ‘Why have you come here?’
She felt awkward now and had no idea what to say next. ‘Well, she isn’t what she seems,’ Lucy almost shouted but levelled her voice to a controlled rasp, turning on her heel to go. ‘You might think she’s a police officer but if your life depends on it, don’t trust her.’ With that she pulled free of her mother’s grip and pushed past Doctor Murray. Loanne, who had been watching in silence, fell in beside her as she marched up the bank and climbed back over the fence. Once over it, she linked arms with Lucy and, together, they marched back across the field.
‘I’m so terribly sorry,’ said Mrs. Lockhart, balancing against the wall and struggling to put her shoes back on her feet. ‘Please accept our apologies.’
The man stared at her for a moment and then shrugged. He stepped backwards and, without another word, silently closed the door.
Lucy and Loanne were halfway across the paddock by the time Mrs. Lockhart reached the fence. They could hear her chuntering away to Doctor Murray but the words were muffled by the distance and a gentle breeze that carried the sound away back in the direction of the old farmhouse.
After walking together in silence, Loanne eventually spoke. ‘Who is she then?’ she asked simply. ‘If she isn’t a police woman, that is.’
Lucy was frowning and scratched her forehead as she pulled away from Loanne. ‘I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking the same as my mother, aren’t you?’
Loanne shook her head, but Lucy didn’t see. She was in a trance, gazing down; concentrating on something way below the ground.
‘Lucy,’ Loanne said, waiting for a response. ‘Lucy!’ When Lucy’s gaze came back to the surface, Loanne
continued. ‘I don’t disbelieve anything you do and say. You are the most interesting person I have ever met. You seem to know everything!’
She shook her head and grasped Loanne’s hand. ‘Oh, Loanne, I wish… I wish I knew who I am.’
‘But it’s coming back slowly,’ Loanne encouraged.
‘That’s the point, Loanne. It isn’t coming back at all. Not as I am expected to remem
ber it anyway. I don’t remember anything about being Lucy Lockhart.’
‘How do you mean?’
Lucy looked back. Her mother and the doctor were coming along behind, but they were talking together and were not gaining on them or even trying to catch up. She sucked in a deep breath and then blew out her cheeks as she exhaled. ‘I just don’t remember being Lucy Lockhart,’ she stated again. ‘I remember things, but not who I am or what I’m supposed to be.’
Loanne nodded. ‘You mean you remember how to do things that you couldn’t do before your accident?’ She giggled.
‘What?’
‘Oh, it’s just an old joke that Daddy tells people, that’s all.’
‘And the joke is?’
Loanne told her the same joke that her father had told Lucy’s mother. She chuckled again, and when she’d finished, they both broke into a fit of girlish giggles.
‘Perhaps that’s what has happened to me then,’ Lucy said smiling broadly at her new friend. She had lightened her mood considerably.
Loanne shrugged.
‘I’ve broken my head, and now it has mended I can do things that I couldn’t do before.’ She thought for a second or two and then added, ‘I’ll have to try the piano!’
‘Come on,’ Loanne shouted eagerly. ‘We have a baby grand in Daddy’s study.’
–––––––
‘Well it doesn’t apply to everything, then,’ Loanne stated matter of factly. Mrs. Lockhart and Doctor Murray stood in the doorway and watched as Lucy began to finger the keyboard. But she showed no aptitude in the field of music. There were no concertos or quick recitals as she sat and looked at the piano. In fact the whole experience seemed to frustrate her.