Forgotten

by Susan Lewis

  She was so thrown that it took her a few minutes to catch up as Fiona launched into a whole series of questions about the time and clocks, some of which he got right and some he didn’t.

  Then came a range of other tests in which he had to remember as many single words as he could; recall a story Fiona recited; sort colours into groups and explain how he’d sorted them; grade similarities; name the missing part of a picture, such as legs, from a man, when he bizarrely named the man; then he had to perform each of the tests again half an hour later.

  It was gruelling, and Lisa could see how tired he was becoming. God knew her own head was spinning by now, but there was still more to come.

  In the end, after providing basic descriptions of words such as ‘rhinoceros’, ‘escalator’, ‘stilts’, ‘compass’ and ‘abacus’, not all of which he managed accurately, then failing to name any animals beginning with S, Fiona brought the ordeal to a close.

  ‘I’m sure you’ve had enough now,’ she said, ‘so tell me, how did you find this assessment?’

  David inhaled a deep breath and puffed it out with an unsteady laugh. ‘Tougher than I expected,’ he admitted. ‘How did I do?’

  She smiled. ‘We’d expect someone with your IQ to score fairly highly,’ she informed him, ‘and you did.’

  Realising how skilfully she was avoiding being pinned down, Lisa felt a fresh stirring of unease and reached for David’s hand. ‘What happens next?’ she asked.

  Fiona finished making another note and looked up. ‘Now, I’m afraid, we play the waiting game while the results of your bloods and the CT scan, together with my report, are sent to a consultant psychiatrist. As soon as that’s happened you’ll be given an appointment to come in and see her – I say “her” because it’s almost always a woman.’

  ‘At which point we’ll have a diagnosis?’ he said.

  ‘She’ll want to do an assessment herself, but yes, that’s when you should receive the diagnosis.’

  ‘Is there any chance …’ he began hoarsely. ‘Does the CT scan happen to show any signs of a tumour?’

  Feeling the tragedy of wishing for something so awful, Lisa wanted to wrap him in her arms as though it might make everything go away.

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t have the results,’ Fiona told him. ‘They’ll go to the psychiatrist.’

  Lisa had to swallow before she could speak. ‘How long will we have to wait?’ she asked.

  Fiona’s hand rocked back and forth. ‘Usually it’s around two to three months,’ she replied apologetically. ‘I’m afraid we’re short of doctors, but I’d hope, in your case, that it won’t be as long as that.’

  As Lisa drove them home, taking it slowly through the teeming rain, she was struggling to attach a sense of reality to what David had just been through, and to the way she was feeling. It was as though she’d somehow fallen out of step with normal life, lost a sense of where or even who she was as she drifted along in the wake of what felt like someone else’s dream. It didn’t seem possible to be where she was now, in a car returning from a test that might render David’s future null and void when it was less than six weeks ago that they’d married, surrounded by friends and loved ones and with, they’d thought, only happiness in store. It was as though she’d crash-landed into someone else’s world. She didn’t belong here, it had nothing to do with her, wasn’t conforming at all to the heady promises and rewards life had led her to believe would be hers. And yet she had no idea where else she would want to be, other than at David’s side.

  She’d have liked to think he was glad she’d been with him today, but he hadn’t said so, nor had he yet made any comment on the test itself. The ignominy of being treated like a child, of having to answer such straightforward questions and then not getting all of them right, must be terrible. Perhaps he was waiting for her to reassure him that he’d done well. To think he might be made her wretched with guilt, because though she couldn’t be sure she’d have done any better under such pressure, she couldn’t tell him anything while she was afraid of how hollow her words might sound.

  Aware of him leafing through his notebook, presumably to reassure himself that he didn’t have to be anywhere else today, she considered reaching over to take his hand, but then he was closing the book and saying, ‘I have to go to London tomorrow.’

  She cast him a quick glance. Just like that? Somehow he was making himself carry on as normal. ‘Can you change it?’ she asked, not feeling comfortable about him being away from home.

  ‘What for? I’m perfectly capable of getting there, if that’s what you’re thinking.’

  Was he capable? Knowing it wouldn’t be a good idea to ask, she said, ‘Will you take the train? I know, I’ll come with you. There are plenty of things …’

  ‘I’d rather you didn’t.’

  She looked at him again, aware of a growing tightness in her chest. ‘But if I want to go anyway …’

  ‘You didn’t until a moment ago, and I would prefer to go alone.’ Then, after a pause, ‘But thank you for coming today. I hope you’re not regretting it.’

  Swallowing drily she replied, ‘Why would I regret it? I don’t want you to go through this alone.’

  His tone was tetchy as he said, ‘This isn’t a journey you can embark on with me. It’s in my head, remember? Not yours.’

  ‘David, please don’t talk like that. You still haven’t had a diagnosis, so …’

  ‘Let’s change the subject,’ he interrupted sharply. And with no more preamble than that, he said, ‘Are you still in touch with the chap you used to live with? I’ve forgotten his name. The one who … You know who I mean.’

  She didn’t answer.

  ‘What’s his name?’ he persisted. ‘Come on, you know who I’m talking about.’

  ‘You mean Tony Sommerville.’

  He frowned, as though not entirely sure. ‘I suppose that’s him,’ he said. ‘Is he still free?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Is he married to someone else now?’

  ‘I don’t think … Actually, I’m not sure I want to find out where this is going.’

  For several seconds there was only silence, charged with the words he wasn’t saying, then with a sigh that sounded like an irritated defeat, he let his head fall back and closed his eyes.

  Relieved that she’d managed to steer them clear of an argument, she leaned forward to put on some music in the hope it might go some way towards relaxing him.

  ‘The reason I’m going to London,’ he said, either waking up or suddenly deciding to speak as they turned in to their gates, ‘is to see Jerry. My son-in-law.’

  ‘Does Rosalind know?’

  When he didn’t answer she cast him a look and felt a twist of pity as she realised he wasn’t sure.

  ‘You don’t have to stay with me, you know that don’t you?’ he said abruptly.

  Understanding what he meant, she said, ‘I’m not having this conversation.’

  ‘Well, that’s a shame, because I am, so I suppose we can now add talking to myself to my list of … of … Whatever the fuck they are. Aberrations! What kind of word is that, anyway? It doesn’t mean anything …’

  Leaving him to rant on as he got out of the car, she went to let herself in the front door and after checking the answerphone, more out of habit than expectation, she decided to take refuge in her study. It wasn’t that she wanted to shut him out, she simply needed some space to think and to attempt to get a grip on what was happening to him, to them, as a couple, and she couldn’t do that while he was trying to drag her into a fight.

  As she sat down at her desk and put her head in her hands she wanted desperately to cry and scream and rage at the fate that was doing this to them, but once she’d done that she’d still have to face what they were going through and somehow deal with it. But how was she going to do that if he really did have an early onset dementia? What the hell was it going to mean for their marriage, their life together, his career and hers? She knew from the websites tha
t his behaviour was typical of someone with certain types of dementia, so much as she might want to pretend it wasn’t a possibility, she couldn’t. Nor could she be entirely sure how much of his behaviour was an act to try and push her away – and how much was him already losing the sense of the wonderful man he really was.

  * * *

  After spending three days in London, mostly at the office with Miles preparing for the Party conference, David was now back in Bristol and on his way to see Rosalind. He knew she was waiting to hear how his meeting had gone with Jerry, but if she hadn’t sounded so upset when she’d rung a few minutes ago, he’d have tried to put her off. Maybe he still should, not only for Lisa’s sake, who was waiting for him at home, but for Rosalind’s too, because though he knew he’d seen Jerry at a cafe in St James’s Park, he hadn’t written anything down about what had been said, and now he was struggling to remember.

  Bringing his car to a stop a few yards from Rosalind’s gates, he did the only thing he could and took out his iPhone. As he searched for Jerry’s number a flash of memory sliced out of the darkness – he’d forgotten Jerry’s name that morning, yet he was having no difficulty with it now. There was no logic to that, so he wouldn’t try to find any.

  ‘Jerry. You’re there, good. It’s David.’

  ‘David. I’m so glad you rang,’ Jerry said. ‘I’ve been thinking since our chat … Have you spoken to Rosalind yet?’

  ‘No. Actually, I’m just about to, but I was hoping …’

  ‘That I would do it? You’re right, I should. As her husband, it’s my place to tell her what’s happened, how things have changed. I didn’t mean for you to shoulder the responsibility. I know it’s mine. I just wanted … Well, I guess I wanted you to hear it from me.’

  David didn’t know what to say.

  ‘I never meant to hurt her,’ Jerry insisted. ‘I hope you understand that.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ David replied. Did he? His son-in-law wasn’t a bad man, so it seemed reasonable to believe that.

  ‘I’ll drive down there tonight,’ Jerry said. ‘It’s not going to be easy for her, I know that, but I’ll try to break it as gently as I can. Do you think I should bring the photographs?’

  Photographs?

  ‘Maybe I’ll put them in the car and make the decision when I get there.’

  Fearing for what they might be, David said, ‘If you think they’re going to hurt her …’

  ‘I swear that’s the last thing I want to do. In fact, I won’t show them unless she asks. I don’t suppose she will.’

  David’s mind was starting to spin as he said, ‘No, maybe not.’ What was Jerry talking about? If he just focused a little harder … ‘I’d better ring off now,’ he said, hating how weak he sounded.

  After ending the call he made no attempt to restart the car, only sat where he was, unable to see or think through the frustration that was forming at the backs of his eyes. He wanted to cry, sob and rage, but surely he wasn’t sunk so far that he’d allow himself to do that. He needed to speak to Catrina. She would understand what was happening and find a way to make it less than it seemed. She’d always had a knack of doing that. How cruel it was that he could no longer speak to Catrina.

  It was the middle of the afternoon by now, and David was feeling too tired and strained to take very much more. He wasn’t sure if he’d been sleeping, he only knew that he hadn’t wanted to carry on driving so he’d left the car at the end of the trail.

  Taking a walk was always a good way to alleviate stress, he’d known that for a long time, which was why he was on foot now, ambling along the country lane towards the gates leading up to the house. Finding them open he pressed on along the drive, glancing down towards the lake and registering the flowers he hadn’t seen before. Then a woman he didn’t know came bounding up over the lawn towards him.

  ‘Hello?’ she cried. ‘Can I help you?’

  Not being quite sure what to say to that, he ended up saying nothing at all.

  On reaching him, the woman tilted back her hat and said, ‘Oh my goodness, Mr Kirby. What a lovely surprise. Do excuse me, I was just sorting out the roses.’

  Baffled, he glanced in the direction she was pointing and said, ‘Are you the new gardener?’

  She laughed as though he’d made a hilarious joke. ‘No, no, no, I’m Jessie Lamb,’ she told him. ‘No make-up, scruffy clothes … Sorry. My husband and I bought the house from you.’

  Once again he didn’t know what to say.

  ‘Would you like to come in?’ she offered. ‘You’d be very welcome.’

  ‘Where’s my wife?’ he asked.

  She didn’t seem to know what to say to that until finally she pointed down the drive, muttering, ‘Perhaps I should get my husband.’

  He didn’t argue, only watched her tooling off towards the house, then turning around he went in the opposite direction.

  Rosalind had no idea what to say. Though she could feel herself falling apart, as if an implosion was pulling silently through her, for the moment shock seemed to be holding her together, a binding, resilient force keeping her stable and sane, like a straitjacket, or a coffin in which she could bury her pain. Her eyes were large and glassy as she stared at Jerry, seeing him, and yet not. He was a stranger, an intruder, someone pretending to be the man she loved.

  Or perhaps she was seeing him for who he really was.

  Her breath caught on a sudden sob, and she turned her head to one side.

  He had a child, a daughter, another family. All this time, when he’d been swearing he would never betray her again … He’d said he didn’t know, that he’d only learned about it a month ago, but could she believe that? Did it even matter what she believed? It wouldn’t change anything, or make them go away, or stop him wanting to be with them. He’d already moved them to London, he’d said, and in her mind’s eye she could see them in their beautiful home overlooking a park, where they played together on sunny days. A perfect little family, two bubbly females filling him with happiness and pride, making him feel loved and valued in a way she apparently never had. Her commitment and loyalty, and everything else she had brought to their marriage clearly hadn’t been enough, or he wouldn’t have felt the need to turn to another woman in the first place.

  Chloe. That was the little girl. It wasn’t a name she particularly liked, but what difference did that make? She felt sure she was a pretty, lively little toddler with heart-stopping eyes and winning ways. They all were, so why should she be any different? Olivia was no doubt a great beauty, but even if she wasn’t he was still choosing to be with her rather than stay here. A twist of pain dug through her heart. It was as though she and Lawrence were being shut away in a darkened room, the relatives who didn’t matter any more.

  She heard Jerry’s voice, but his words were no longer reaching her. She glanced at him, then away again. Was he really going to leave and never come back? Could he actually do that? She’d feared it for so long that now it was happening it felt like a dream. She started to wonder what her father had said when he’d found out, then her heart churned with more pain. Her father had let her down earlier. He’d said he’d come, but he hadn’t, and when she’d called to find out where he was he hadn’t even seemed to remember that he’d spoken to her. His mind was full of Lisa now, and Jerry could think only of Olivia. And Chloe.

  ‘Please say something,’ Jerry implored.

  She took a breath, but no words emerged. She put a hand to her head, and as her breathing started to shudder he came to take her in his arms.

  ‘Don’t,’ she said, turning away. ‘I’d rather you … Actually, I think you should go.’

  He looked surprised, and hurt. ‘But there’s so much to discuss …’

  ‘I don’t have anything to say to you, so please, just go.’

  He ran a hand anxiously over his face. ‘Can I at least take some …’

  ‘No. Not today.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘You’ve chosen a new life,’ she
reminded him, ‘and everything here is part of the old one.’

  Apparently not ready to dispute that, he said, ‘I don’t want to think about you sitting here alone.’

  ‘Then don’t think about me at all.’

  His face was turning as pale as the wall behind him. ‘Shall I call your father?’ he offered.

  ‘Why? What difference is he going to make?’

  ‘I just thought …’

  ‘Jerry, I’m not your concern any more so please, just go.’

  ‘Of course you’re my concern. You’re still my wife and though you might not want to hear it, I love you.’

  She flinched, and turned her face away.

  ‘What about Dee?’ he said. ‘Shall I call h—?’

  ‘I don’t know how to make myself any plainer,’ she cried. ‘I want you to leave, so please stop trying to shunt me off on to someone else so you can ease your conscience.’

  ‘Come on, that’s not fair …’

  ‘Don’t talk to me about fair,’ she shouted. ‘None of this is fair.’

  ‘I’m sorry. That was the wrong thing to say, I just don’t want you thinking that I don’t care, because I …’

  She clapped her hands to her ears.

  ‘Rosalind, we need to talk …’

  ‘There’s no “we” any more, Jerry. Now, please don’t make me repeat myself again …’

  ‘OK, if I leave, what are you going to do?’

  ‘I fail to see what business that is of yours.’

  ‘Will you call your father?’

  ‘All right, if that’s what you want to hear, that’s what I’ll do.’

  ‘I’m trying to find out what you want.’

  ‘OK, then I’ll tell you. What I want, Jerry, is for none of this to be happening. I want that child not to exist, or her mother. I want you to go back to being the husband I used to love and trust, the man I respected and felt proud to be with. I want this home to be ours, the way it used to be. I want my father to be married to my mother again. I want Lawrence to be like other boys … I want a lot of things, Jerry, but you can’t make any of them happen, because there’s no way you can unbreak my heart, or bring back my mother, or change the way our son is. All you can do, Jerry, is get on with your life now, because that’s what you’ve chosen to do. So at least have the courage to face up to your decisions and stop hanging around here as though you can make everything all right, because you can’t,’ and rather than have to go through the awfulness of watching him leave, she walked out of the kitchen and closed the door behind her.