"Okay. Okay. I owe you a full explanation, and I'm going to give you one. But I have to warn you that you may not believe me. First of all though, I think that we should both get a drink. A stiff one…"
I go to the bar and return with two large malt whiskies. She's taken her jacket off by now, and she's started to unwind. As I walk back towards her, I realize for the first time that she is actually a very attractive woman. Her long dark black hair, her brown eyes, a curvy figure… not at all bad.
Passing her a drink, I settle down opposite, and take a sip of my Glenmorangie.
"If you're sitting comfortably…I'll begin." I say, trying to inject a little humor into the situation. She frowns. "The thing is…I've got amnesia. I've forgotten all of our conversations. Our arrangement. About moving to PHI. Everything. "
The look in her eyes lets me know instantaneously that I've just been a little too blunt. She reaches for her coat, puts down the whisky and starts to get up from the sofa. Her face is turning slightly red, and I guess that I have only a few seconds before steam starts pouring out of her ears, or her head blows up.
I jump to my feet and reach for her arm.
"No, honestly. I have… I'm not joking. I'm telling you the truth!" I exclaim. "Honestly… listen, I'll get my wife to back me up. You can hear it from her…she'll tell you the truth." I pull out my Scotia phone, and dial my home number. Margareta picks up the phone.
"Hi…it's James, is Jane there?"
"James? You bastard…I hate you! I never want see you again…" And Margareta burst into tears.
The voice is loud enough for the woman from PHI to hear too - whatever her name is -and she stops, and turns to me, questioningly.
"Margareta?" I ask.
Shit. She's crying really loudly now. "James…you ruin my life. You bastard!!!" Then suddenly the line goes dead. She's hung up.
"Em…sorry about that," I mutter to the woman in front of me. "I'll call Jane on her mobile. Hang on a second." I quickly look up Jane's mobile number in the memory. Jane's got a new mobile phone, a perk of the Scotia deal, and I haven't memorized the number yet. It rings three times and then it's picked up.
"Jane?"
"James…listen it's not a good time. Elspeth and Allison are in hysterics and Margareta is just walking out of the door as we speak…I just told her, and she didn't take it well…"
"Listen Jane, this is important. I need you to talk to a colleague of mine, and tell her about the concussion you gave me." I interrupt her.
"I gave you? You're blaming me now? So suddenly this is all my fault?…"
"Listen, I didn't mean that. Can we talk about this another time…but right now, please, please just tell my colleague what happened, and why I've got amnesia."
"What's her name then?"
I look up at the woman now standing in front of me. She can hear Jane's loud voice too, and she heard the question as well.
There's nothing for it, but the truth.
"I don't know. I don't know her name…"
The woman from PHI gives me a look that could kill, shrugs off my hand, which is still gripping her arm, and turns to leave again.
"No, please don't go!" I shout at her.
"Who are you shouting at?" Jane bellows down the phone to me. "James, if you think that I'm going to speak to another one of your bloody women, and sort out another one of your messes, you've got another thing coming. It's obvious you've got so many women on the go that you can't even remember their names. You got yourself in this mess, now get yourself out. And don't come home until you've done it."
She hangs up.
I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at it.
When I look up, the woman from PHI is walking out of the door. A second later and she is gone.
--------------------
I catch a taxi back from Surbiton to my house. Nowadays I've taken to walking to the station in the mornings: it's healthy and pleasant and anyway, there's nowhere to park an €80 000 Audi at the station. From my new house in Effingham Road, it's only a ten minute walk, across a large open park, and down the high street. No problem.
But tonight, "I just can't be arsed.", as one of my friends at Kitte-Kat used to say. I hear her voice saying the words in my ears, and I realize that it's only the first time I've really thought about my old work since I left it. Is that a good or bad thing?
Perhaps it just shows how much more I am enjoying advertising than the world of telecoms, broadband, and techno-mumbo-jumbo.
I want to get back as soon as possible to sort things out with Jane. With such an unstable life all around me, I need to make sure that things at home start to find an even keel.
It's only 6.45 pm when I finally pay the taxi-driver and walk through the door to my little castle, but already the girls are up in bed, and Jane is sitting in the music room at the back of the house, a large glass of white wine in her hand, and " The Very Best Classic Chill-Out Album -Ever ", playing in the background. Jane's perfect anti-stress solution. Wine and song.
She looks up at me as I walk into the room, and then looks away.
"I knew it was too good to last," she says.
"What?"
"I was beginning to relax, to unwind. To enjoy the music…but now you're home!"
"Thanks a bundle. Where's the wine?" I ask.
"In the fridge."
"Where's the fridge?"
She looks at me as if I'm stupid, so I venture into the kitchen on another voyage of discovery, and manage to re-find the fridge. I'm getting the hang of it now.
"What happened to your date then?" Jane asks rather directly, which is actually a good sign. Perhaps she's taken seriously everything I said about not sweeping things under the carpet.
"It wasn't a date, and you going off on one didn't help. But I suppose I can't complain." I flop down opposite her in another one of the comfy chairs. "She was a Partner from Peters Hall and Irvine. She arranged to see me,…I didn't know what it was about until I met her…and she was furious with me for having forgotten something important which she apparently told me once, a while back. I was just trying to be straight with her, so I told her about the amnesia. You were my alibi. So thanks."
"Okay, sorry. I just overreacted, but I was mad with you. Call it pent-up emotion, latent anger, whatever. There's probably more to come, so get used to it."
"Fine. Thanks for the warning. So how did it go with Margareta? You've told her?"
"This afternoon. Were you not listening to a word I said? I told you earlier, she's gone."
"What, 'gone' as in, 'left and never coming back?'…Already?"
"Yes. Too soon? Do you miss her? Want her back?"
"Jane, it was my idea for her to go. I want her out of the house, so that we can spend time together sorting out the mess we're in. I'm glad she's gone. It's just a little soon, that's all."
"What? Hoping to get in one last shag before she left?" Jane turns to me. I look at her and say nothing. A minute later, she says "No. That was unfair. I'm sorry."
"So how did she take it?" I ask.
"You really want to know?" she asks.
I think about it for a second, and decide what's done is done.
"...No. Where's she gone? Home?"
"Don't worry about it. I gave her a 1000 euros and a reference letter. She's rich. The agency picked her up, and took her to another house. It was all arranged. She's going to be fine. I wish I could say the same for us…"
The conversation dies for a minute, and we listen to the music. I recognise the track. I don't know who wrote it, or what movement it comes from, if indeed it does come from some sort of 'movement', but it's one of the theme tunes from the film ‘The Hunger’ with James Bowie. One of the best vampire films ever made. Catherine Deneuve and Susan Sarandon. The first time I ever saw two women kissing each other. Although that's not the reason I liked the film.
"So, what happened with the woman from PHI?" Jane asks.
"She left. Walked out of the pub whi
lst I was on the phone to you just before you hung up." I look at my glass, and swirl the wine around a little. "Did I ever talk to you about going back to work for PHI?"
"No."
"Oh…Well, it looks like the possibility has come up. Whoever the woman from PHI was, I think she'll be calling Richard tomorrow, and even though I am a Partner, I don't think he's going to be very pleased to hear what she has to say."
She comes back into the room, having changed the CD to another laid-back dinner Jazz album, and sits down on the same sofa as me, tucking her legs up underneath her, shaking her head and pulling the hairband from her hair, so that it falls down free over her shoulders.
"The woman from PHI is called Helen." Jane announces. "She called once before, …a while ago. Sorry, …I forgot to mention it. Her number's on a piece of paper in the kitchen. She seems keen to get hold of you again. And she's called again twice in the past hour. I told her the truth, so don't worry. She knows all about your loss of memory now. Anyway, she said she's going to call you again first thing in the morning just to confirm that you'll meet her for lunch at 12 pm."
I look at her in disbelief. Then I see the twinkle in her eye.
That's one-up for Jane.
"Thanks!" I say with a smile.
"Thanks nothing. You're going to give me the best orgasm tonight that I've ever had, and if you don't, I’ll call up Richard and tell him about the whole PHI thing myself."
Chapter Thirty
Drowning
.
I could hear the screaming.
The corridor on the lower deck of the ship was pitch black, the lights out, but as I felt my way along the walls, trying to find a door, the sound of their bloodcurdling cries drew me on and on. Nicole and Keira. Ahead of me somewhere, locked in one of the ship’s cabins.
Something pulls on my feet, and I fall forward, tripping up and sprawling headlong. As I go down I bang my head, and I wake with a start.
I look around the room, gently acclimatizing, becoming conscious of the rhythmic breathing of a woman beside me.
Jane.
Lying back on the pillow, I close my eyes, and try to relax.
Soon the blackness is around me again, engulfing me, and drawing me back to the dream. This time I am on the deck, it is night-time and a terrible storm is raging about the ship. I am shaking with cold and I am afraid. Very afraid.
And then I hear it. "James…over here….James…" again and again. Sarah is calling to me.
"James…" Her voice is coming from somewhere towards the stern. The sea is getting rougher now, and I fight hard to stand up and make my way forwards. I grab hold of the railing and pull myself along towards the back of the ship, the cold wind pushing me back and whipping the waves over the side of the ship and making progress impossible.
"James….quickly…please…."
Then suddenly, out of one of the side doors, a group of people carrying wine glasses and blowing party poppers, dressed in tuxedos and ball gowns, spill out onto the deck beside me. Laughing, shouting, arms wrapped round each other’s waists.
They don't see me. They are not affected by the storm, and walk past me, upright, without a care in the world. I stare at them in disbelief, calling to them for help. They start to dance, music from an orchestra being piped over loudspeakers I cannot see.
I hear Sarah calling to me again, and make another effort to move forward, searching for her, trying to see her in the tumultuous world around me.
Suddenly she is there, ahead of me, almost within reach.
She is crying, reaching out to me, hanging on to the other side of the rail, dangling from the ship, the water beneath her surging up in waves, and threatening to sweep her away.
I cry out to her and she turns and sees me, the horror and fear in her eyes piercing through the void between us and ripping into my heart.
The ship rises violently beneath me and a wave hits the side of the ship broadside. A wall of freezing water sweeps me off my feet, and I struggle to hold onto to the rail. The wave passes and I pull myself up again, the salt stinging my eyes and making it almost impossible to see.
"James…quick…I cannot hold on much longer…be quick…"
I find her again, this time only one hand gripping the rail, the other nowhere in sight.
Quick, I must be quick.
"Daddy…daddy." the voices of Nicole and Keira call to me from behind. Petrified by the storm raging around them, they are standing near the door to the deck where the party-goers just emerged from below, holding hands and wearing their best party dresses, looking at me, imploring me, Nicole hugging what looks like a large teddy bear to her chest.
I turn to look at them, shouting "Get back inside, please,…go back inside! "
The ship falls down, down, ever downward into another trough which opens up, threatening to swallow us whole.
I glance first at Sarah, and see her only remaining hand beginning to slip, and then back again at the girls. I see the wall of water heading towards them both, and I freeze.
Who do I save?
Sarah or my beautiful daughters? Who?
Who do I love more?
The wall of water catches me in my back, catapulting me across the deck, and driving me against the bulkhead. I fight against the water, sprawling, reaching out, trying to grip anything I can touch…
A piece of metal…
Quick…my fingers curl around it and close, clenching tightly, refusing to let go.
The water passes by and I open my eyes.
I struggle to my feet, gasping for breath.
But Keira and Nicole are gone.
And when I look at the rail only yards away, so is Sarah.
Washed away. Drowned.
I start to scream Sarah's name. Loudly, please hear me Sarah….where are you? Please…
A hand grips me from the side, and gently shakes me.
"James…wake up…wake up!"
I open my eyes with a start, the world of water and the ship beneath my feet vanishing in an instant. Instead, Jane is by my side, kissing my forehead, calming me, reassuring me. Cooing to me like a child.
I blink and breathe, and relax, the nightmare quickly dissolving before my eyes.
A few minutes pass, Jane helping me back to normality, loving me, hugging me.
And then she asks me. One question.
"Who is Sarah?"
--------------------
The thing about a dream is that if you are woken from it suddenly, when the dream is not allowed to finish itself properly, it's like someone has just pushed the 'pause' button on a film, and for the whole day until you fall sleep again you are trapped in exactly the same emotional state you were in the moment you were woken up. Your mind is waiting for the dream to finish, for the sign saying "The End" to roll across the little cinema screen in your head.
I cannot describe the feeling that the dream has evoked within my body. I can only try to ignore it. For to try to quantify it, would be to look at it, to examine it, and then I would be engulfed once more.
But the sound of my family calling out to me from the sinking ship stays with me, and I cannot shake off their voices, or drown them out, no matter how loud I play the music in my car.
My first meeting of the day is not till 10.30 am. By 8.30 am I am parked outside a cemetery in Richmond, waiting for the gates to open. I've come to see if Sarah's mother is still here. With my other options quickly running out, this is becoming one of my last hopes.
Strange, that I should be trying to find hope in a graveyard.
Perhaps I should have come before, but I hate graveyards. I still can't face them, and I haven't stepped foot in one in years, not since…
A car pulls up beside me and a council workman in a blue overall gets out, thankfully interrupting my train of thought. "’Allo mate. Wow you're keen. I thought that this is the last place I'd find a queue of people waiting to get in. I mean, most people aren't dying to get in…they're already dead."
I smile. A laugh is out of the question. I hide the emotion that is just about to wash over me like a wave, swallow hard, and I steel myself. I have to do this…
Sarah's mother's plot should be near the middle of the cemetery, underneath a weeping willow with a large, black polished headstone and a bowl of dead flowers at the top of the grave, the flowers that Sarah puts there year after year. No one else comes to the grave, so the old flowers are still there when she makes her annual pilgrimage with fresh ones, a whole year later.
Except this time, they are not. No flowers, no headstone, no grave.
Who Stole My Life? Page 22