Ingrid’s pained expression told Donald how much he’d hurt his friend. He’d cruelly built up her hopes and then had callously knocked them down like a house of cards.
“What I’m trying to say is that I love you… but in a way that I might love a sister. It’s a different love from the way I love Martha. Do you understand what I mean?” Donald pleaded like an inept adolescent.
Fortunately for Donald, it wasn’t in Ingrid’s nature to stay crestfallen for too long. She’d had many disappointments and had been let down so many times over the years, that her emotional resilience had become a match for any insult or insensitive gesture. Pretending not to care and bottling up her emotions had been a defence mechanism that Dr Atkinson been trying to understand and resolve ever since she’d first met the girl. But it had only been recently, as Ingrid’s memory had started to return and she’d recalled the earlier, more lurid parts of her life that the doctor had finally started to understand her patient’s true psychosis.
“Ok… I can be your sister if you want me to.” Ingrid said nestling her head onto his shoulder. As if to emphasise her acceptance of the new arrangement, she looked up at a horrified Donald and blinked her doe-like eyes…
“I mean… it’s a little weird even for me, but what the hell if that’s what floats your boat. I’ll try anything once.” She said instinctively.
“What! No! Absolutely not… that’s not what I meant at all.” Donald gasped. The loudness of his embarrassment shattered the reverential silence of the gardens and like a pair of strict librarians patrolling the corridors of the Bodleian, an elderly couple who had been admiring one of the recently planted perennial borders, shot out a withering look that silently warned the pair to cease their noisy disagreement, which had momentarily shattered the garden’s peace and tranquillity.
“No… that’s not what I meant and you know it.” Donald whispered, as the disgruntled elderly audience moved away to find a quieter spot in the garden.
“You know Donald sometimes you’re so easy to wind up.” Ingrid replied and then bent closer to her friend’s ear. “I’m really going to miss you, you know. The others… they’re all the same but you, you’re different. You’re kind and considerate, Martha’s very lucky.” Ingrid took hold of Donald’s hand and lovingly massaged each of his fingers in turn. “I think you’re probably the first person that I’ve ever wanted to love… I mean the sex, well I don’t mind who I go to bed with, but it would have been nice to have been loved… I think?” She added with a sadness that would have tugged even the coldest person’s heartstrings.
Donald averted his eyes. If Ingrid’s words were meant to absolve the way he felt… her pitiful look of despair had the opposite effect and instead merely compounded his misery. Quelling the urge to pull her close and wrap his arms around her, Donald knew his decision to leave was the right one… because if he stayed, he knew he’d cheat on Martha again, and then maybe he’d never go back to her.
“I feel as though I’ve let you both down.” He said softly. “On another occasion, if we’d met first… who knows what might have happened. You and Martha are so different, and yet so alike but I love her and I don’t want to hurt you again.” Donald eyes sought a way out of his predicament, but found none.
“Maybe there’s hope for me yet… I mean if we’re both so alike, how can you be so sure that it’s not me you love and it’s Martha that you really don’t want to hurt?”
Donald thought about the possibility and for the life in him couldn’t think of a single reason why Ingrid might be wrong and whilst he couldn’t bring himself to admit it openly, the look on his face betrayed his true thoughts.
“Let me give you a word of advice before you see Martha, get rid of all the doubts…”
Ingrid gently caressed Donald’s face.
“Whatever you think now, there wasn’t a shred of doubt in your mind, when you came to my bedroom and we made love. You knew exactly what you wanted and do you know…I’ve never felt more needed and cared for than I did at that moment.” Ingrid’s memory made Donald shuffle uncomfortably.
“I think that’s part of my problem Ingrid, it was as though there was someone else controlling me, pulling the strings like a puppeteer controls a marionette. One minute I was sat there watching you and the next it was as if I’d just woken up from a dream. If I’m really honest, I didn’t like the new me… the man that would take advantage of someone he cared about and then just walk away. If I could do that to you, maybe I could do it to everyone I cared for and do you know what… I began to wonder what Martha would think of that man.”
Ingrid jumped up and with her outstretched hand pulled Donald with her. She’d heard enough of his maudlin talk and critical self-reflection. What they both needed now was to forget about who or what they were and enjoy what little time they had left together.
“Come on, let’s walk through the meadow to Christ Church. We can then get through the quadrangle and out into town… I’ll treat you to tea or lunch or anything you want.”
“You know I’ll miss you don’t you?” Donald said almost as an afterthought, as Ingrid skipped off down the path towards the Cherwell and the meadow that formed one edge of it, without an apparent care in the world. Suddenly she stopped and ambled back along the gravel towards the spot where Donald had remained frozen in time.
“I’ve been thinking… I can’t let you go to Cornwall by yourself. I mean what if you meet some woman who wants you purely for your body and doesn’t care much about your mind.” She teased with a glint in her eye, although deep down she seriously did worry about Donald’s ability to survive in the outside world and she knew that her emotional skin was thick and calloused, so if anyone was going to get hurt, it ought to be her.
“Ingrid you’re incorrigible.” Donald replied with a faint hint of a smile that buoyed her spirits and gave her hope once more. She wasn’t sure what incorrigible meant but it didn’t sound hurtful or spiteful, and as she looked around the garden, her mind was filled with ways that she could turn Donald’s platonic love into something more physical and permanent.
The sudden flash of red against the backdrop of green and browns, drew her eyes like two bees to a red flower and made her forget everything that she’d been thinking about. She’d seen the crimson spectre for only the briefest of moments, as it disappeared through the gate between the two walled gardens, but she was sure it was the same coat that she’d seen twice before that morning and whilst in a city the size of Oxford, which had a concentration of popular tourist sights, twice might not be thought of as particularly strange, for some reason the fleeting vision tweaked her senses and bristled the hairs down the back of her neck.
Then the reason hit her like a juggernaut on the autobahn. The first time had been earlier outside the Wolvercote Clinic, as they’d waited for the bus and then the second occasion had been in St Giles, at the stop opposite the Randolph Hotel. But there was something else… something that made Ingrid shudder with trepidation. On their first trip to Oxford… she remembered the woman in the red coat, who had remonstrated with the man for colliding with her. On the day she’d merely thought the accident had been a little unfortunate but now… now it seemed to be a little more sinister.
That first time, she hadn’t had a chance to notice what the woman looked like and today the stranger’s face had been obscured by the baggy hood, but Ingrid was sure it must be the same person and surely if it was that had to be more than a trivial coincidence.
“Did you see that?” She asked nervously, as she pointed to the gateway and sought out Donald’s hand for reassurance. She wasn’t prone to attacks of angst or being scared but this was different.
“See what?” Donald looked round at the empty space. Even the disgruntled pensioners had gone for a coffee in the Botanic Café.
“The woman… well I assume it was a woman. She was wearing a bright red coat… she just went through the gate. Over there!” Ingrid explained excitedly with just enough exasperation t
o annoy Donald slightly.
“No I didn’t… what’s the matter anyway? Did the colour of her coat clash with the flowers?” Donald replied flippantly. But Ingrid wasn’t in the mood to be teased, she didn’t understand why… but she felt threatened by the presence.
“Oh grow up Donald.” The coldness of her reply shocked her friend. “Look, I don’t know if it’s the way I’m feeling about you leaving… but I’m sure I’ve seen that person twice already this morning and once before, when we visited the Bankside Hotel. It’s almost as if we’re being followed.”
“Followed? …” By the time Donald had uttered the word, Ingrid was sprinting across the grass towards the gate and by the time he’d caught up with her, they were both stood in the next garden, staring blankly at the numerous groups of visitors who were milling around the second walled garden, listening to their various guides.
“She’s not here Ingrid… whoever she is?” Donald said trying to make amends for his earlier crass remark. He’d never seen Ingrid look the way she had and that in itself scared him.
“But she was and I know I’ve seen her before… I swear.” There was a pleading in her voice which made Donald feel even worse for not believing her immediately.
“I know and I believe you. What I can’t understand is why anyone would want to follow us… and why do it dressed in something as obvious as a red cape. I mean Robin Hood didn’t prance around Sherwood Forest in red did he, he wore green to blend in with his surroundings.” Donald didn’t mean to sound critical, he just wanted to reassure Ingrid.
“No… but Will Scarlet did.” Ingrid replied, raising her eyebrows.
They had a cup of coffee in the garden’s café to steady Ingrid’s jangled nerves and then ambled silently through the meadow at the rear of Merton College, towards Christ Church. They kept mainly to the paths, only veering off into the short grass when a posse of cycles or the odd large group of Japanese tourists approached.
“Makes you wonder why they bother coming so far, if they’re not actually going to look at anything.” Ingrid snarled dismissively the first time they’d been forced to deviate from the path.
“I mean what is the point? Looking at everything through the view finder of a camera or telephone must be like watching a film. They’d have been better staying in bloody JAPAN!” As she berated the crowds, the pitch of her voice rose to a crescendo and peaked just as the nearest pair of elderly visitors turned to face her, bowed slightly and beamed a broad smile that would have stretched across the Pacific Ocean.
“It’s no good Ingrid, they don’t understand you.” Donald said calmly, as he scoured the massed ranks of cameras searching for the merest hint of red.
Leaving the tourists to follow their guide, the pair continued their amble through the meadow in a contemplative silence.
Finally putting all thoughts of a deranged stalker out of her head, Ingrid refocused her mind on what it was that she’d been so keen to show Donald the last time they’d visited the college, when regrettably they’d found it closed for essential maintenance. Then as now, she’d hoped that the attraction might jog his memory and open up the flood gates to his past. But it hadn’t escaped her attention that helping him remember might not be such a good idea… for all they knew the mysterious woman might be someone he’d previously wronged… perhaps a friend or maybe a former work colleague. The woman might even be his wife or… however remote a possibility, a friend of his wife!
For his part Donald was more intrigued by what had happened than worried. He’d just assumed, without any rationale or reason that he cared to share with Ingrid, that the person in the red coat might be connected with the clinic. Perhaps Dr Atkinson knew more about Ingrid than she cared to share with him. Maybe it was Ingrid that they were keen to follow and watch or maybe it had all been just coincidence… there was nothing sinister and never had been about the woman. She wasn’t following either of them but merely going about her own life, minding her own business. She might even be wondering, why she kept bumping into the weird couple… what did they want with her!
In fact, the more he thought about it, the more certain he was that on any other day anyone could probably walk around the city and see the same person more than once… the reason it wouldn’t normally register was that everyone was more interested in the tourist sights and the history of the city than a simple red coat that could be purchased at any number of stores in Oxford.
“So what is this big secret that you want to show me?” Donald said breaking their voluntary code of silence, after convincing himself that there was nothing sinister about the stranger in the red coat. Like Donald, Ingrid had pushed the sightings and what they might mean to the back of her mind. Instead, she’d decided that she’d fantasised about what the woman might want long enough, and had satisfied her own peculiar imagination that if they stayed close together then nothing untoward could happen.
“I’ll show you first and then explain… that way it might have more of an impact and who knows it might help trigger something?” Ingrid replied mysteriously.
“It’s in there.” She said decisively, pointing to the golden yellow cathedral, which had for centuries been the religious backbone of Christ Church College, its fellows and students alike. “Come on, the Mongol hordes are about to descend upon its sanctity with their cameras and mobiles, let’s see if we can beat them to it.”
As they walked under the trees towards entrance, the queue of eager tourists already waiting to pay their entrance fees, stretched like a snake backwards for twenty or more paces. They may have beaten the hordes of Korean invaders, but there’d been plenty of reinforcements delivered to the city that morning.
It was Donald that saw the red flash first… just as it disappeared inside the cold interior where it was instantly swallowed by the dark recesses of the cathedral’s ancient corridors. Startled by the sight he’d just been about to grab hold of Ingrid and tell her about the sighting when his own sense of reason and logic smacked him round the face and made him see how illogical they’d been about the whole affair… if they were being followed how come the stranger in the red coat was there first. Surely, by definition, the woman would follow behind them.
The relief he felt at realising their obvious paranoia was instant and overwhelming. They hadn’t been followed at all… it was a coincidence, nothing more.
“What’s matter?” Ingrid asked with a relaxed smile, as she saw the look of relief manifest itself on Donald’s face as a satisfied smirk.
“Nothing… well I was just wondering, what if the person in the red coat thought we were following her and that’s why she keeps running off.”
“I guess you could be right. To tell you the truth I hadn’t given it much thought.” Ingrid lied. “But it would at least explain what we saw and let’s face it if she’s been half as spooked as we’ve been, then it’s hardly any wonder that she keeps running away like some demented child. You know I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she’s not right at this moment sat in a pub somewhere telling her friends about the two weirdos who have plagued her all morning.”
Once inside, the bright warm day was replaced by the cooler air of the large stone building and rather than follow the normal tour route, which was signposted better than any motorway, Ingrid cut a path straight to the end of the predesignated tourist trail and the sight that she most wanted Donald to see.
“There! What do you think that is?” She said proudly, as she stopped and stared at Donald.
“A stone staircase?” He replied rather ungratefully. Now he was more confused than before. He’d been expecting something revelatory, something so fantastic that it would jar his memory and bring him some modicum amount of relief.
“Well yes it’s a stone staircase but where have you seen it before?” Ingrid snapped unable to hide her disappointment. She’d expected more from Donald… well at least a flicker of recognition. If he’d been anywhere on the planet these past years, well anywhere that had a television, it must
surely have triggered some reaction other than… “A stone bloody staircase!”
“Nowhere. I don’t recognise it at all… should I?” Donald looked again and this time studied the staircase more intently, to pacify Ingrid’s disgruntled annoyance at his lack of recognition.
“Hogwarts and Harry Potter… don’t they mean anything to you. This is where they shot some of the films… right here.” Ingrid tried not to sound too disappointed or disbelieving but it was hard when the only reaction Donald could manage was a blank face.
“Never heard of them but from the way you’re ranting on, I’m guessing they’re famous.” He walked around to get a different view but still remembered nothing about the staircase or the films.
“You could say that. I was reading one of those trashy magazines, which they seem so keen to put out in the clinic’s lounge, and it claimed that more than a third of the population had read one of the books or seen at least one of the films. So it set me thinking… if anything could stimulate your memory perhaps Harry Potter could and if he did what better place than here.” Ingrid looked crestfallen at Donald’s continued blank expression. “Of course there’s always the chance that you could have been deaf, blind or simply behind bars these past ten years!”
Donald put his arm round Ingrid’s drooping shoulders and gave her a loving squeeze.
“Come on, why doesn’t this social misfit buy you a drink? …that’s if we can find our way out.”
“Oh that’s easy, if we head for the quadrangle through that door over there, we can walk straight into town.” Ingrid pushed her way through the crowds that had suddenly started to mill about, as yet another party of tourists finished their guided tour and insisted on taking their obligatory photograph of themselves stood on the steps.
Stranger at the Wedding Page 35