Forgotten

by Susan Lewis

  It was a long time later, an hour, maybe more, that she realised she wasn’t sitting alone on the floor in the drawing room. Lucy, the dog, was lying next to her with her head in her lap, and a little apart, but not too far away, Lawrence was sitting like a small guardian angel staring quietly into space.

  * * *

  Lisa came awake with a start, her heart thudding hard and her skin breaking out in a sweat. She wasn’t sure what had disturbed her, perhaps a noise outside, or a bad dream. She glanced at the clock. Two twenty in the morning, and David still hadn’t come to bed.

  When he’d finally arrived home this evening he’d looked so haggard with exhaustion that she’d simply poured him a drink and sat with him quietly, understanding that he wasn’t yet ready to talk, though half expecting to be told to leave him alone. However, he’d seemed if not pleased that she was there, then less troubled by it than he sometimes was, and had even, at one point, taken hold of her hand.

  She’d said nothing about how worried she’d been while he was gone. It wouldn’t help him to know that, or her to go over it again. Nor had she asked what had happened with Rosalind this afternoon. He’d told her he was going there straight from the train, but she hadn’t expected him to stay for so long, nor had she imagined it would leave him so drained. She still didn’t know what Jerry had told him when they’d met, though it seemed clear now that Jerry wasn’t coming back. The extra strain that was going to be put on David was already showing, and troubling her deeply. It could hardly have come at a worse time, and since David was unlikely to have told Rosalind about the tests he was having, Rosalind wouldn’t be aware of how much more difficult she was making things for him.

  Should I tell her, or shouldn’t I, Lisa kept asking herself. It hardly seemed her place to do so, and yet, as David’s wife, what more right could she have? It was highly probable that Rosalind would turn more hostile than ever, and possibly even find a way to blame her, and that wouldn’t help the situation for anyone. Nor could she imagine David reacting kindly to finding out that she’d gone behind his back to speak to his daughter. So for the moment she guessed it would be best to wait for the results, and then let David decide how he wanted to handle it. She just hoped to God the wait wasn’t as long as three months, because if it was she dreaded to think what kind of state they’d be in by then.

  When David still hadn’t returned to bed by three she decided to go downstairs and look for him, hoping it wouldn’t make him angry to feel she was fussing him. She needed to be sure he was all right and was actually still in the house, and not outside somewhere wandering around in the dark.

  Everywhere was quiet as she went downstairs, with only a silvery glow from the moon lighting the way. The kitchen and sitting room were empty, but there was a chink of light showing beneath his study door. She hung back, anxious about how he would treat her intrusion, and wondering, helplessly, how they were going to carry on living like this, with her so afraid of upsetting him, and him doing his best to increase the distance between them.

  Moving as quietly as she could to the door, she put an ear against it, and when she heard what was happening inside she no longer cared how angry it might make him, she went in and gathered him in her arms.

  He didn’t object or try to push her away, instead he buried his face in her waist and continued to sob as though his heart was breaking.

  ‘Ssh,’ she soothed, tears rolling down her own cheeks as she held him close. ‘It’s going to be all right, I promise. We’ll work it out …’

  ‘But how can we? It’s irrev— irr— For God’s sake, listen to me.’

  ‘You’re upset now,’ she said uselessly. ‘That’s why you can’t find the word.’

  He was shaking his head. ‘Read that.’ He turned to the computer. ‘It’ll tell you …’

  ‘No, I won’t, and you shouldn’t torture yourself like this. We still don’t know …’

  ‘But we do!’ he exclaimed. ‘I do.’ He grabbed her hands. ‘You have to get on with your life, Lisa. You can’t …’

  ‘Stop! I don’t want to hear you saying those things. Whatever’s wrong with you, you’re still the man I love, the man I …’

  ‘But I’m not,’ he cried angrily. ‘He’s gone and he won’t be coming back. This is who I am now, someone with an atrophying brain and no future that any right-minded person …’

  ‘David, I’m not going to let you do this.’

  Pulling her down to his level, he said, ‘Look at you. You’re still so young and beautiful, you have so much life ahead of you, you surely can’t think I want to steal it from you.’

  Hardly able to speak through her own tears, she said, ‘And listen to how rational you’re sounding, even though you’re talking nonsense.’ She gave a splutter of laughter as a spark of humour showed in his eyes. ‘You see, you’re still there,’ she told him. ‘I know you are and I’m not going to let you go.’

  Drawing her into his arms he held her tightly, as though it was him comforting her now. ‘My darling, my wonderful, beautiful Lisa,’ he murmured. ‘I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.’

  ‘It isn’t your fault, and please don’t make everything sound so final. We still have a long way to go, probably a lot longer than you think, because there are drugs now, if it does turn out to be what we’re thinking, and we still don’t know for sure that it is.’

  Holding her face between his hands, he let his tears roll as he gazed at her with all the love and anguish in his heart. ‘I want to stay hopeful,’ he told her, ‘but the evidence … There’s nothing to say …’ He started to break down again. ‘Please don’t leave me yet,’ he gasped, pulling her to him. ‘Stay with me at least until we know.’

  ‘Of course,’ she cried, wrapping him fiercely in her arms. ‘And I’ll still be here after that. I’m not leaving you, David, so please, please stop trying to make me.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  THE NEXT FOUR weeks passed in an agony of nerves and frustration as Lisa and David tried to go about their day-to-day lives as normally as possible. After the night he’d gone to pieces in his study, David had seemed calmer and less prone to tormenting himself with online research. However, now Lisa was looking for it she was seeing evidence of his problems manifesting all the time, in ways that were mostly heartbreaking, but occasionally alarming, or even mystifying, such as when he took something of hers and hid it. It was hard to accept that someone as intelligent and lucid as he’d always been was now more given to silence than to talkativeness more out of fear of losing what he was saying before he could reach the end, than because he had nothing to say. It was as though he was locking himself up inside and throwing away the key when he had no need to go there.

  Though they’d started to share tender moments again, there was still his anger and helplessness to deal with when he fumbled to perform tasks that should have come naturally, or struggled to remember something that he knew shouldn’t be difficult. It was proving as big a strain for Lisa as it was trying to stay positive for him. Were she able to offload on to Amy once in a while it might have helped, but Amy was so engrossed in her departure plans and getting Roxy ready for uni that she rarely seemed to notice that Lisa wasn’t her usual upbeat self whenever they spoke on the phone. It was easier to pretend when they weren’t face to face, Lisa had decided, which was why she was avoiding seeing her – a state of affairs Amy would never have allowed had she not been so busy herself. As it was, she was prepared to accept that Lisa was making good progress with her book, and that the situation with David had started to settle down.

  It was only when he went to Bournemouth for the Party conference, and during the short trips she made to London, that Lisa was able to relax a little, but even then the dread of what they could be facing was always with her. His incessant checking in his notebook and dwindling confidence were their own constant reminders. Sometimes she wanted to scream at him to pull himself together, as though he was doing it deliberately to provoke her. Then he’d say, or do somet
hing that was so like him that she found herself shedding tears of relief, along with her fears for the future, and taking heart again. It was a punishing, unending roller coaster of emotions that was keeping her awake at night, and occasionally driving her thoughts into places that were so black and shameful she’d never want to admit them to anyone. She came close many times to calling Rosalind, but knowing how hard Rosalind was struggling with the end of her marriage, she couldn’t bring herself to shatter the rest of Rosalind’s world.

  But surely she must know something’s wrong, she kept saying to herself. She must see the change in him, and wonder why it’s happening. But even if Rosalind did, she was saying nothing, at least not to Lisa. Very possibly not to herself either, which Lisa could hardly blame her for when it was only a year since she’d lost her mother. The fear that there might be something wrong with her father wouldn’t be one she’d even want to consider, never mind have confirmed.

  It was during the fourth week of waiting that Jerry rang to ask David if he’d speak to Rosalind about the midnight calls she was making to Olivia. Apparently she was often drunk and usually abusive, and Jerry was starting to worry that she would do something stupid like turn up at the house while he was away.

  ‘It’s not that we’re thinking of calling the police, or anything drastic like that,’ he assured Lisa, who’d answered David’s phone. ‘I’d never do that to her, but Olivia’s starting to get worried, and with Chloe in the house and the things Rosalind’s saying … I’m sorry to bother you with it, but she won’t speak to me.’

  David went round to see Rosalind the next morning, but Lisa had no idea what he said to her, because he didn’t mention it when he came back. She even wondered if he’d remembered why he’d gone. If he hadn’t, then it was highly probable nothing had been said. Or perhaps it had and he was finding it too difficult to recount, either out of wishing to keep Rosalind’s confidence, or because he couldn’t find the words. Whichever, Jerry didn’t call again, so Lisa decided to presume that Rosalind was now leaving Olivia alone.

  Then finally, five excruciating weeks after the appointment with the psychologist, and only a week before the start of the new parliamentary term, a letter arrived giving them a time and date to see the consultant psychiatrist, Dr Isabelle Manning. It was to be in the more private surroundings of the BRACE clinic at Blackberry Hill again, at eleven o’clock the following Wednesday.

  Now that day was upon them, and as they drove through the hospital’s mostly deserted site to park outside the BRACE centre Lisa could only wonder how, outwardly at least, David was managing to appear so together when she knew how fearful he was inside. Earlier, he’d said it was a relief to be finally getting on with it, but when she’d seen how afraid he’d looked it had made her want to cry.

  This time it was the doctor herself who let them in, with the same warm greeting as they’d received before. She was a tall, grey-haired woman with horn-rimmed glasses and softly sagging cheeks that dimpled when she smiled.

  ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you,’ she said, shaking David’s hand first, then Lisa’s. ‘Do go through. I’m using the office straight ahead. Coffee’s on its way, unless you’d prefer tea.’

  David looked at Lisa.

  ‘Coffee’s fine,’ Lisa assured her.

  Moments later they were seated in the same office they’d been in before. Nothing had changed. It was almost as though there had been a warp in time, and the past weeks of waiting, pretending and dreading had been sucked into a bubble that had now burst and vanished, leaving them exposed to the cruel reality of ongoing life.

  ‘Right, well, I’m sure you’re keen for us to get started,’ Isabelle Manning said, after their coffees had been delivered. ‘I know these waits for appointments can be very stressful, but luckily yours hasn’t been quite as long as some. Now, before I begin, is there anything you’d like to ask?’

  Lisa looked at David as he said, ‘You have the results of the CT scan?’

  The doctor nodded. ‘Yes, they’re here,’ she confirmed.

  ‘So is there a tumour?’

  Her tone was gentle as she said, ‘No, there’s no tumour.’

  As David seemed to collapse beside her, Lisa’s heart rose to her mouth. It was their last hope. A tumour was treatable, the nightmare it was possible to wake up from. She could hardly bear to look at David. How on earth must he be feeling to have had this last terrible straw snatched away?

  Clamping a stethoscope around her neck, Isabelle Manning said, ‘OK, I’m going to give you a quick check-over first, then we’ll have a chat about your symptoms and medical history.’

  Understanding that all this had to be gone through, but still wishing she’d just give them an answer, Lisa bit back her frustration and took David’s cup as he stood up. As she watched him undress she felt a disorienting, surreal sense of distance come over her, as though she was detaching from where they were, moving away, losing perspective, and she could only think how strange, even terrifying, it must be feeling for him.

  It seemed an eternity, but was probably no more than ten minutes, before the stethoscope and other instruments were put away, and David started to dress again. Lisa could see how strained he was, and so had to admire how well he’d managed to rise to Isabelle Manning’s polite chatter throughout the exam. Then he gave her a smile and she felt her heart stumble and fall. He was managing to be so brave, and here was she on the verge of falling apart. She had to pull herself together. She was of no use to him at all in this pathetic, self-involved state.

  Registering that he was about to put his shirt on inside out, she got up to take it from him, then stopped when Isabelle said gently, ‘It’ll be good for me to watch David do this.’

  Lisa sat down and felt humiliated and wronged for David as he took far too long to sort out the shirt and put it on. Then he gave her a wink before sitting down and she wanted to fold him in her arms and protect him from everyone and everything, especially this horrible ordeal.

  Over the next few minutes Isabelle Manning led a discussion through his general well-being, such as whether he felt depressed at all, or overly anxious about anything apart from the tests. Once satisfied with that she moved them on to the results of his memory test, but as she started to explain how the conclusions had been drawn David said, ‘We can do away with all that if you like. I know it’s early onset dementia.’

  Lisa stopped breathing. Please God Isabelle Manning’s answer wasn’t going to prove their worst nightmare. Please please God, it just couldn’t.

  The doctor’s eyes were gentle as she said, ‘Yes, I’m afraid you’re right, David.’

  Understanding now what it felt like when the world fell apart, Lisa’s mind went reeling, until feeling the shudder of David’s shoulders as he started to break down she quickly turned to him.

  ‘It’s all right,’ he said raggedly, as she tried to hold him. ‘I’m sorry,’ he apologised to Isabelle. ‘It’s just … I couldn’t help hoping …’

  ‘I understand,’ Isabelle said softly as she passed over a Kleenex.

  Taking it, Lisa handed it to David and sat holding his hand as he used the other to dab away the tears. His devastation was so apparent it was hard to look at him. Having no hope now had already turned out a light inside him, and she wondered if he’d ever be able to find it again. She wished she could think of something to say, or do, but knowing that life was treating him this wretchedly was making it impossible to find any words.

  Eventually he was able to look at Isabelle again. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘I don’t normally …’

  ‘Please don’t apologise,’ she interrupted gently. ‘I know what a shock this must be for you.’

  ‘I tried … I thought I’d prepared myself.’

  Her eyes were filled with compassion.

  ‘Is it … I suppose it’s Alzheimer’s,’ he said.

  She shook her head. ‘No, you have what’s called multi-infarct dementia,’ she told him, ‘which is a form of vascular demen
tia. This means that you are experiencing lots of tiny strokes which you possibly don’t know anything about, but they are interrupting the flow of blood to the brain, which in turn is affecting the way your memory is functioning.’

  After taking a moment to digest this, David said, ‘Is there – ?’ He cleared his throat. ‘Is there anything you can do?’

  Her eyes remained on his as she said, frankly but gravely, ‘I’m afraid that the damage already done cannot be reversed, but we generally find that people suffering with MID – multi-infarct dementia – have a much better insight into their condition than those with other dementias such as Alzheimer’s. This means that the deterioration in the brain will be more noticeable following a stroke, but then you will quite probably stabilise for a while and even show signs of improvement, until it happens again.’

  ‘Is there anything we can do to prevent the strokes?’ he asked, sounding more defeated by the second.

  ‘We can certainly reduce the risk by keeping a close eye on your blood pressure, and cholesterol, and by making sure you’re fully informed about the symptoms that lead up to one. I’m also going to prescribe aspirin to help prevent the blood from clotting, and donepezil, which you might know better as Aricept.’

  Hearing herself speak, as though from the end of a tunnel, Lisa said, ‘I thought Aricept was for Alzheimer’s.’

  ‘Yes, it is, but we’re finding it has some benefits for people suffering with other types of dementia too.’