Never Forget You, page 6
More memory loss? Her inward trembling amplified to the point where her legs began to shake, and her breathing became fast and shallow. She was going to have another meltdown, right here in this tiny, sterile consulting room, wasn’t she? Heaving in a couple of ragged breaths, she looked at Ben in panic.
He looked almost as pained as she did to hear this diagnosis. When he saw her looking at him, he reached out and held her hand. There was something about the warmth, the pure reality of him, that helped her feel a little more grounded. She wanted to hug him, she realised, to just bury her face into that fleece-clad shoulder and cling to his solid bulk once more. Hanging onto him by the pier had been the only time her universe had felt steady that day.
Dr Manzar looked sympathetically at her. ‘I know this must all be very distressing for you, but there is hope. Please remember that. I’m going to refer you to a specialist memory loss unit in Glasgow.’
‘I can’t talk to you?’
Dr Manzar shook his head. ‘While we do have a mental health unit attached to the hospital here, it deals mainly with community cases. You need someone who has more experience with this condition than we can offer.’
That was the moment she chose to burst into tears. She leant over, and began to make large, gulping sobs until she was sure there was no more breath left in her body. When she looked up, Dr Manzar was holding a box of tissues. He offered her one, not looking fazed in the slightest.
‘It’s completely understandable, and – dare I say it – completely normal for you to feel the way you do. But it is very likely you will get your memories back. It just might take some time. You’ll be in good hands with the memory unit …’ He turned away and tapped something on the computer on the desk behind him. ‘You’ll probably get a referral letter in a couple of weeks.’
She sat up straighter. ‘A couple of weeks? What do I do until then? Where do I go?’
Dr Manzar looked confused. ‘You go home, of course.’ He looked at her hand, still joined with Ben’s. ‘Since you’re friends, I assumed you lived nearby.’
She shook her head, slid her fingers from Ben’s firm grip and brought her hand to sit in her lap with the other one. ‘We only met this morning. Ben’s been … well, he’s been very kind.’
‘Oh.’ Dr Manzar’s forehead folded, creating two deep horizontal lines. ‘I wasn’t … In that case, I’m going to have to inform social services.’
‘Social services?’ Ben didn’t look hugely pleased with that idea.
‘I’m afraid so,’ Dr Manzar said. ‘If you can’t go home because you don’t know where it is or have any kind of support from friends or family, that means you’ll be classed as a vulnerable person. We need to make arrangements, for you to get all the support you need.’
She swallowed, holding back a fresh round of tears. Vulnerable. She hated that expression. Mostly because it described exactly how she felt at that moment. Without any shell of memories or knowledge about the world and her place in it to protect her, she felt as if every nerve ending was raw and vigilant, exposed. And, somewhere in the depths of her subconscious, she knew she’d felt this way before, and it was a dangerous, dangerous place to be.
Chapter Nine
Almost a year before the wedding.
IT WAS A few weeks before I saw the man with the umbrella again. Most days, I lugged Octavia up to London and picked exactly the same busking spot at exactly the same time, and one bright winter morning, I was playing an Irish folk song that had the crowd of twenty or so clapping along when I saw a flash of camel-coloured wool at the back of the crowd. I knew it was him, even before I fully registered his face.
He wasn’t smiling or tapping his foot like the other onlookers, but I knew his gaze was locked on me. Despite the cheery sunshine up above, I sorely wished it would rain. Don’t wander off, I prayed. Don’t leave without saying a word.
And after the next song, I took an unscheduled break. The audience scurried away, back to their sightseeing or their office jobs, but he stayed. ‘Hi,’ I said, resisting the urge to look at my feet. I had a feeling this man never needed to take refuge in the tops of his shoes.
‘I came back to check if you really were as good as I thought you were.’
And …? I asked silently, looking at him from under my lashes, too much of a coward to say the word out loud.
He answered me anyway, smiling that smile again. ‘It was much better. You’re growing, improving … I think you have a lot of potential.’
I swallowed. ‘Thank you.’
He glanced around at the dirty street, the crowds of unimpressed tourists and passers-by. ‘This really isn’t the right venue for a talent like yours. You ought to be performing in concert halls, grand theatres.’
I couldn’t help myself. I burst out laughing, partly from the irony of his words and partly because of the sheer stupidity of his suggestion. Yes, I had the talent – I knew that – but I lacked the ability to do any of the things he’d suggested, which was stupid. And pointless. And sad. Even so, hearing him compliment me that way applied balm to my battered creative soul.
‘That’s very nice of you to say that, but I honestly think I’m better off here.’ He didn’t know my story, and I wasn’t about to tell him. I’d rather he went on thinking I was wasting my potential than knowing the truth.
‘My name is Justin De la Hay. I’m a choreographer of contemporary dance – think edgy modern ballet, and you’re on the right track.’
If you’d asked me to guess his career, that’s not what I’d have come up with. He looked like a financier or a lawyer. I hadn’t expected him to be an artist too.
‘Anyway,’ he continued, ‘I know you think you belong on a street corner, but I don’t, and I might be able to introduce you to people who could help you reach your true potential – if you’re interested?’
I hugged Octavia to myself and chewed his words over. As much as I thought it was impossible to hope for that, I found myself nodding.
‘Would you like to go somewhere to chat about it? I promise I won’t take up much of your time.’
The sensible girl from Penge inside me hesitated. He might be gorgeous. He might be sophisticated. But he was still a stranger. I didn’t know him.
He seemed to sense my disquiet because then he added, ‘We can go to the café over there …’ He nodded in the direction of one of the restaurants that lined the square, with wooden tables and big red umbrellas. ‘We’ll sit outside. You’ll be perfectly safe.’
He smiled again, and this time I smiled along with him. ‘Yes,’ I answered quietly. ‘I think I would really like that.’
I was standing on the landing, checking my thousandth outfit choice for the evening ahead in the only full-length mirror in our house, when my sister’s highlighted head appeared at her bedroom door. She took in my floaty maxi skirt and ankle boots. ‘Where you going?’
‘Who says I’m going anywhere?’
‘Come on … You’ve hardly worn anything but leggings for what seems like years and suddenly you’re putting on make-up and leaving the house, practically bouncing down the path.’
Lo was right. My wardrobe had changed a bit in the two weeks since Justin had taken me for coffee, but I just smiled and changed the subject. ‘Do you think this is a bit … you know …?’ My younger sister was always making fun of my eclectic dress sense, calling me ‘hippy’ and ‘flower child’, and I usually responded by letting her know that, most days, she dressed like a middle-aged bank manager.
‘I don’t know. Where are you going?’
‘Papillon.’
She frowned. ‘Where’s that?’
‘Covent Garden.’
‘Oh, that Papillon! Wow … I thought you were talking about somewhere around here.’
That made me smile. Penge had its charms, but it wasn’t the most likely destination for upmarket French cuisine.
‘He really likes you then, this guy?’
‘Who said there’s a guy?’
‘No leggings … Bouncing down the path … Come on, Lil. I know there’s a guy.’
‘Oh, Lo …’
She rolled her eyes at my use of her childhood nickname. Since she got her entry-level job at a management consulting firm, she’d been trying to make us all call her by her full name, but old habits die hard. I’d decided that if my two-year-old sister was going to call me ‘Lili’, which only bore a passing resemblance to my name, then I was going to call her ‘Lolo’, which bore even less to hers. To four-year-old me, it had made complete sense. Over the years, our nicknames had eroded into ‘Lil’ and ‘Lo’. Hardly anyone in our wider family used our full names any more. I suspected a few of them didn’t even remember what they were.
I dragged Lo into my bedroom so we could chat without being overheard from downstairs. ‘His name is Justin, and he’s amazing. He’s artistic and clever, really good-looking, sophisticated …’
Lo squealed and pulled me into a hug before pushing me away again and holding me at arm’s-length. ‘Oh, my god! I’m so happy for you! It’s about time you bounced back after what Photographer Guy did to you.’
‘It’s not really like that,’ I said, easing myself from Lo’s arms and brushing off any mention of Ben. I didn’t want to spoil this moment by thinking about him. ‘Justin’s out of my league. And it’s more like a business meeting. He says he knows people who can help me with my music. We’re just getting together to discuss that.’
Lo raised an eyebrow. ‘At Papillon? On a Saturday night? Sounds like a date to me.’
I nodded sadly. ‘I’m too young for him. Too …’
Lo gave me a stern look. ‘Don’t do that, Lil. Don’t you put yourself down. Why wouldn’t he want to be with you? You’re sweet and loyal and clever and so, so talented. He’d be lucky to have you!’
And this was why I loved my sister to bits. I knew it hadn’t been easy for her over the years, always seeing Mum and Dad shower me with praise and attention, always bragging about me to friends and family because of my music, but she’d never been jealous, had never decided to compete for our parents’ attention, as some of my friends and their sisters did. If there was one person I could count on in the world, it was Lo.
‘Well, you know that, and I know that,’ I said, ‘but he hasn’t quite woken up to the fact yet. Which is probably okay, because I don’t want to get into anything serious with anyone right now. But I still get to go out to a fancy restaurant with a charming older man. That’s better than staying at home and watching Casualty with Mum and Dad.’
‘Ouch,’ Lo said. ‘Rub it in for your single sister, why don’t you?’ But she laughed and pulled me towards her again, hugging me tightly. ‘Even if he can’t see what a catch he’s got, he’s given you something precious. I haven’t seen you light up like this in a long time.’
‘I know,’ I said. At first, I’d been relieved to leave the Conservatory, but as time had gone by I’d mourned the future I’d abandoned.
Lo patted me on the back, and we disentangled ourselves. As I pulled away, I caught my reflection in the mirror, and I instantly saw why my sister made fun of me. I looked hopelessly young and air-headed in my flowing skirts, layered necklaces, and silver bangles. I held my breath and turned to her, a thought suddenly occurring to me. ‘Can I borrow something of yours?’
Chapter Ten
Now.
THE EXAM ROOM door closed. Ben looked at the woman who might be Lili, and she looked back at him. ‘So, it’s definitely amnesia,’ she said, more for something to say, Ben guessed, rather than because it needed saying.
‘Yes.’ He’d been hoping that the visit to the hospital would provide some answers, set a chain of action in motion that would help her in some way, but all they’d accomplished was pin a label to her, and it was one they’d both suspected all along.
‘I need to use the ladies’,’ she said quietly.
He nodded, and she gave him a backwards glance as she headed down the corridor to where a set of patient toilets were clearly signposted. He exhaled as she disappeared inside and turned a full circle, running both hands through his hair. What was he going to do about her?
Was she Lili? Or was his memory of her, now five years old, being overwritten by the face of the woman he’d met today? Was he merging the two similar but separate faces into one? He just couldn’t tell.
And if it was her, why had she come to Invergarrig? Was this some weird, wouldn’t-believe-it-if-you-paid-me coincidence? Or had she meant to come here because some part of her remembered his connection to this place? And if she had, what did that mean?
He was pacing up and down the waiting area when he spotted Dr Manzar heading out of the treatment room, and he waved to catch his attention.
‘Everything okay?’ the doctor said.
Ben walked towards him. ‘I just want to know what happens next … What do we do about reuniting her with her family? Where does she go in the meantime?’
‘Well, social services will try to find her somewhere to stay. It’ll probably be emergency accommodation, which is limited in a rural area like this. It might mean sending her on to Glasgow since that’s where she’ll be receiving treatment. She can discuss all of this with the on-call social worker when they arrive. But it could be a while. Sorry … I know you’ve been here a long time already.’
Ben frowned. ‘Okay.’
‘Well,’ Dr Manzar said, ‘if that’s all …?’
‘Actually, there is something else I wanted to ask you …’
The doctor’s eyebrows lifted slightly. ‘Yes?’
‘I’m really not sure about this, but there is a possibility that she and I have met before.’
‘A possibility?’
Ben sighed. ‘She resembles someone I met very briefly a few years ago, but there are also differences that don’t add up, so I really can’t be sure. And even if I’m right, I’m not sure I know much that will help. We only spent just over a day in each other’s company. All I knew was that she lived somewhere within easy travelling distance of London, and her first name. Do you think I should tell her?’
Dr Manzar pursed his lips together. ‘I would prefer to let the specialists at the memory unit advise you on that. Like I said, she’s in a vulnerable position at the moment, not just physically but emotionally and psychologically. She’s desperately searching for a sense of identity, and if you’re wrong, it could be really upsetting for her.’
‘Okay,’ Ben said, but the frown he’d been wearing deepened. He didn’t like the idea of keeping it from her, but what Dr Manzar was saying made sense.
‘However, I’d definitely mention it to the police when you speak to them.’
‘That was going to be my next move.’
‘Social services will almost certainly contact them after speaking to her. Tell them what you know, and they can check it out with any reports of missing persons from that area. Then you’ll have proof – or not – to back up your suspicions.’
Ben nodded, feeling a little more relieved. That sounded like a sensible plan, but it meant that, very soon, he’d leave the hospital and she’d disappear into the night with an anonymous social worker, untraceable, uncontactable. He glanced in the direction of the ladies’ loos before looking back at Dr Manzar. ‘What if I could offer her somewhere safe to stay tonight rather than a hostel somewhere far away? Would that be allowed?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘My aunt and I might be able to offer her accommodation.’
Dr Manzar looked thoughtful. ‘I wouldn’t normally suggest something like that, but seeing as I’ve known your family for at least a decade … and I know you and Norina must have had all the usual safeguarding checks in order for Willow to stay with you, I suppose I could tell the on-call social worker to visit you in Invergarrig rather than you both having to wait around here for another couple of hours.’
‘That would be perfect.’
‘The final decision will be up to social services.’
‘I know. Thank you.’
Moments later, the subject of their conversation emerged from the ladies’. She looked as if she’d splashed water on her face and had freshened herself up a bit. She went to slump into one of the plastic chairs, but Ben shook his head. ‘Change of plans. The doc says you can come back to Invergarrig with me – as long as you’re okay with that?’
She waited behind Ben as he approached the first cottage in a row of four and opened the sturdy wooden door, its black paint stark against the white render. The social worker who’d turned up to chat with her had also been Willow’s social worker, and he’d signed off on Ben’s suggestion to let her stay at his cottage temporarily. No need to be shipped off to a hostel or wherever ‘vulnerable people’ ended up, thank goodness.
Before following Ben through the open door, she took one last look at the mist gathering at the other side of the loch, ghostly grey in the moonlight. Did she know this place? Had she been here before? Was that why she’d come to this town?
She was still finding it difficult to come to grips with being a blank sheet of paper, an anonymous person with no existence, no past, no future, other than today. In one part of her brain, she understood it perfectly, but in another … well, that part shrank away from prodding, scared of what it might find.
They stepped into the front room of the cottage, decorated in neutral tones with splashes of colour here and there – a checked blanket in the same hues as the heathery hills outside, cushions in earthy tones. ‘This is it,’ Ben said, leading her into a small kitchen with a dining table at the back of the cottage. ‘You can’t use the downstairs toilet just now, and there’s a few bits of tiling to be done here and there, but other than that, everything is functional. I’ll leave the heating on low all day. That way, you won’t have to bother messing around with the controls.’
