by Jean Levy
‘Do you remember that happening?’
I pulled my hand away. ‘No!’
‘That’s because it’s not what happened. Tell me what happened.’
‘I don’t know what happened.’
‘Sarah, you were there!’
‘I was there?’
‘Yes, in the upstairs flat. You found the paintings and the photographs.’
I turned my head, distracted by something, some sound, over by the door. But when I looked there was nothing, just a plain wooden door. Matthew looked round too. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘It’s the laughing.’ I tugged at his sleeve. ‘It’s not there, is it? But I can hear it!’
‘Sarah, would you like to take a break?’ Bob Gray asked.
But Geraint Williams turned his back on him, unstoppable, buoyant with success.
‘Isabel, this is a perfect demonstration of the process I was describing earlier. We are witnessing the aura, a sound that heralds unconscious activity and an episode of repression. Following factual input, the patient frequently complained of hearing laughter, and was subsequently unable to recall both the information provided and the aura itself.’
‘Well, she recalls it now!’ said Matthew. He disengaged me from his sleeve and stood up. ‘Dr Clegg, Sam, would you Google “Klimt Kiss Images”.’
I fought to calm myself as I watched Sam hand over his laptop.
‘That’s the one,’ said Matthew. ‘Thanks.’ He held the laptop steady so that I could see the screen. ‘Sarah, look at this. Try and remember.’
I looked at the image: a strange, stylish couple, draped in gold; he was bearing down on her, holding her head in his hands, kissing her, almost crushing her. Her toes were curled in ecstasy, her eyes closed, one of her arms was around his neck, preventing his leaving. The laughter in my head was continuous but I found that if I concentrated on the screen, kept re-seeing it, I was able to prevent the laughter from coming closer. I touched the image, ran my finger along the man’s dark, curly hair, littered with leaves and petals, along his sculptured brow. Imagined his green eyes open while mine were closed. I looked up, reached up to touch Matthew’s cheek.
‘I hit you, didn’t I?’
‘Ha!’ Geraint Williams said. ‘What irony!’
Matthew ignored him. ‘It’s OK, Sarah. Don’t upset yourself.’
I watched him hand over the laptop, carry his chair over to sit facing me. Nobody tried to stop him. They seemed satisfied to let the scene unfold. By now the laughter was tearing at my thoughts. And I was very frightened. Frightened that I’d hit Matthew. Was it something to do with the golden man? Perhaps the stranger in the photograph? I looked at the photo on the floor.
‘Who is he?’
‘Your husband,’ exclaimed Geraint Williams.
I remember holding my breath for far too long, looking at Matthew for some kind of explanation, an immediate explanation, that would allow me to start breathing again. He was glaring at Dr Williams. He looked back at me, a trace of hatred still in his eyes.
‘Sarah, it’s OK …’
I breathed.
‘… You were married to this man. For nearly eight years. His name was Jeff Blake and he had a bad fall and he died. But before that happened you were going to leave him to be with me.’
I listened to the words, just discernible above the laughter, but I couldn’t make them mean anything. Matthew looked past Geraint Williams and spoke directly to Bob Gray.
‘Sarah found a key to the flat upstairs. Yesterday afternoon. Apparently, her cat had been going in there. She found her wedding photo. I had to explain. I told her about Jeff Blake.’
He looked back to me. ‘I told you about Jeff falling and breaking his neck, never regaining consciousness. I told you it happened the day you disappeared. We talked about him over supper.’
I grappled to recapture memories of the previous evening. ‘We had Indian takeaway.’
‘Yes! Sarah, try and remember the flat upstairs. You went inside to look for Alfie.’
And, suddenly, I remembered a black and white cat, my black and white cat, asleep on a gilded chair. ‘It was like a giant’s kitchen. With huge pots and pans. And mice. The door was open and it was raining.’
‘That’s right. Is the laughter still there?’
‘Yes, but it’s not getting any closer.’
‘Sarah, can you remember finding your wedding photograph?’ Matthew picked the photo from the floor. ‘You and this man? Your dress? Your flowers? The glass broken on the floor?’
There was an uneasy silence as the room waited for my response. I tried to remember: dress, flowers … and all at once an image came into my head. ‘Pink and white roses.’
Geraint Williams interrupted. ‘This is recollection of a secondary image, remembering the photograph rather than the original reality. This is exactly why we exclude reported experiences. What the patient comes to remember is not the original event but rather a secondary phenomenon.’
‘She’s remembering!’ snapped Matthew. ‘Isn’t that enough?’
Geraint Williams’ eyes narrowed. ‘Filling Mrs Blake’s mind with new images will undoubtedly reduce the possibility of her recalling actual events. But then, Mr Parry, I have never been convinced that you wish for Sarah to recall the events of the day in question.’
‘I don’t want her future to be destroyed by nightmares from her past. Sarah was confused and distressed. I told her what she needed to know.’
I watched Geraint Williams turn towards Isabel Bluet, his arm stretched towards me, anticipating my reaction to his next question:
‘And, while you were imparting all this information, Mr Parry, did you make any mention of Sarah’s younger sister, Arachne, who died the day that Sarah’s husband’s neck was broken, the same day that Sarah disappeared?’
The laughter was all around me, filling my head until there was no room left for anything else. I lifted my hands to protect my eyes and felt my hair fall unrestrained to mask my forgetting. Nobody must know.
*
‘Sarah? Sarah, can you hear me?’
I felt my hands being eased away from my eyes. Matthew was holding me steady in my chair. Dr Gray was beside me, his fingers pressed into my wrist. Professor Bluet was watching, still seated; she seemed impressed by the floor show. I had clearly lived up to expectations. Beside her, Shoumi Mustafa had actually paused his notetaking; his mouth was gaping slightly. Geraint Williams and Sam Clegg were standing just to my left.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I felt dizzy.’
‘Would you like to lie down?’ said Dr Gray. The door opened and Mrs Barr hurried in with a glass of water, which she handed to me.
Geraint Williams took a step towards me. ‘Sarah, what is the last thing you remember me saying?’
But before I could even consider my answer, Bob Gray addressed the room. ‘I think that’s enough for today. Sarah is obviously exhausted.’
‘Bob, it would be constructive to allow her to confirm …’
‘Geraint!’ Bob Gray’s tone was more authoritative than I had come to expect. ‘This really has been wonderfully informative but I think that right now Sarah needs to rest. We will reconvene here briefly in half an hour. Professor Bluet is most welcome to join us.’
‘Bob, with respect …’
‘Geraint, she is exhausted.’
I sipped my water and watched Geraint Williams over the rim of the glass. After a moment he straightened his waistcoat and turned to his guest. ‘Isabel, the tea urn summons!’ Without casting another glance in my direction, he gathered his files and strode towards the door, and led his contingent away. Sam waited for Mrs Barr to close the door behind her then moved to one of the vacated buckets. The air settled and I asked would somebody please explain what just happened. Bob Gray asked me about the dizziness.
‘The noises suddenly got worse. I told you about the laughter, didn’t I? Did I faint?’
‘Not exactly.’ Bob Gray tapped his fingers to
gether for a moment, then he regarded Matthew over the top of his glasses. ‘Matthew, give me a moment, would you?’ Matthew surrendered his chair. ‘Sarah,’ said Bob Gray, ‘if anything upsets you tell me straightaway. All right? Now, do you remember what we were talking about?’
I placed the glass on the floor. ‘I think so. Dr Williams showed me a photo of a man I didn’t recognise. He said it was my husband. Jeff Blake. Matthew said we were married for eight years but he died. He told me about the upstairs flat and finding the wedding photo and he showed me the picture of the golden man. And I started to remember a giant kitchen. And my bouquet. But then the noises became too loud. I know they’re not real.’
‘So, despite the noises, you can remember discovering the photo of Jeff Blake?’
‘I can remember what Matthew told me before I felt dizzy and I think that made me remember being in the upstairs flat and finding the photo. But it’s difficult to know whether I’m remembering what I was told, or what actually happened.’
‘Well, don’t worry too much about that for now.’ He turned to Sam. ‘Sam, I can’t be certain, but I think that what we’re dealing with here are degrees of separation, the distance from the event through a tiered system of recall. Perhaps it allows Sarah to negotiate around the repression.’ He turned to reassure me. ‘This is all very good.’
‘But, Dr Gray, I’m forgetting new things.’
‘Only very specific things, Sarah. Do you remember anything else?’
I tried to recall some of the more significant moments in Geraint William’s malign performance.
‘Dr Williams accused Matthew of not wanting me to remember. And Matthew said he didn’t want my future destroyed by nightmares from my past.’ I glanced up at Matthew; he smiled to reassure me but his eyes betrayed anxiety. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t remember. What happened?’
There was an awkward pause. At last Sam broke the silence. ‘Bob, someone will tell her if we don’t. But, what about taking advantage of the degrees of separation? Tell Sarah what was said to her, rather than the thing itself.’
Bob Gray frowned. ‘You might have a point there, Sam. And I suppose the worst that can happen is that it will elicit the same response. But at least we’ll be prepared.’ He placed his hands on his knees and his blue eyes looked straight at me. ‘Are you ready, Sarah?’
‘Can Matthew tell me?’
Bob Gray got to his feet. ‘Matthew?’
Matthew sat down opposite me and just held my hands for a moment. I wasn’t sure whether it was my hands that were trembling or his but when he spoke he sounded calm.
‘Sarah, when you had the scans, Dr Williams singled out three people for his Series 3. One of those people, JB, was Jeff Blake. Do you remember that?’
‘I don’t remember being shown pictures of him during the scans.’
‘But you do remember the photo Dr Williams showed you today?’
‘Yes.’ I tried not to panic. ‘Matthew, I’m forgetting new things.’
‘Only some new things. Now, if the noises start again, try to ignore them. Dr Williams thinks they’re your mind forcing you to forget.’ He took a deep breath. ‘A second person in Dr Williams’ Series 3 was AD and that was the person he mentioned here today just before you became dizzy. He stood right here…’ Matthew inclined his head to the side. ‘… and said that you had a younger sister, called Arachne, and he told you that she died that same day your husband fell and broke his neck. The day you disappeared.’
Of course, the laughter began but this time I told myself to ignore the noises. I could hear myself repeating that instruction. Time after time. And slowly, imperceptibly at first, the laughter subsided and the crashing of waves became my own breathing. Matthew was still holding my hands. I searched his eyes.
‘Yesterday, when you told me about Jeff Blake, did you tell me about a sister then?’
Bob Gray interrupted. ‘We advised Matthew that the information might elicit …’
‘The kind of reaction we all just witnessed,’ said Matthew.’
‘Yes. But, Sarah, can you recall what Matthew just told you?’
‘Yes, I think so. He said that Dr Williams told me I had a sister who died. But I don’t think I believe him. I don’t really believe I had a sister who died.’
‘Do you think this denial is a coping device?’ interrupted Sam.
‘Possibly.’ Bob Gray folded his arms. ‘Sarah’s mind is so many steps ahead of us, I’m at a loss as to where to go from here. But we seemed to have moved on. How do you feel, Sarah?’
‘I don’t know how I feel. Dr Gray, how did the sister die?’
Bob Gray paused before answering. ‘She fell into the path of a lorry. But I don’t want you to concern yourself with remembering that at the moment. I think you’ve had enough for one day.’ He checked his watch. ‘You both need to slip away before the others come back. And, Sarah, this evening, I’d like you to keep reminding yourself what you’ve been told today. Keep it fresh in your mind. Reinforce the progress we’ve made and don’t worry about anything else. If I’m needed, I can be here in half an hour. Sam is in residence.’
I chewed my lip, uneasy about something. Then a question tumbled into my mind.
‘Dr Gray, who was the third person in Dr Williams’ Series 3?’
Bob Gray frowned: ‘I think, Sarah, that for the time being, this person would be an unimportant complication. Let’s concentrate on remembering the husband and sister for now, shall we?’
Islington
Jeff threw down his phone. ‘What do you mean you can’t do that Friday? I gave you plenty of warning. You’ve known about this wedding for months.’
‘I can’t help it. They’re giving me a prize. We only found out about it this morning. Everyone at the agency is really excited. I can’t not turn up.’
‘Everybody? You mean fucking pretty boy and his tart, right? This is an important wedding, Sarah. There’s no letting me down on this one.’
‘Well, I’m sorry. I’ll do the flowers the night before. But you’ll have to get someone else to do the photography. I’ll ask Annabelle. She did our photos. Some of them were really …’
‘Don’t talk crap! These people are the very people I need to get in with. I’m not having that fat slut cavorting around, flashing her tits at anybody in trousers. Tell pretty boy to collect your prize for you. God, what will it be? A pair of silver-plated kiddie boots? But then, I suppose that’s the nearest you’ll ever get to those.’
Sarah caught her breath. ‘The consultant said there isn’t any reason why I can’t get pregnant. He said the next step is for you to be tested. Before we can start IVF.’
‘Here we go again! I’m not doing anything of the bloody kind. There’s nothing wrong with me.’
‘No, I’m sure a thousand women can attest to that. And yet, strangely, none of them seem to get pregnant either, do they? Do they? Annabelle warned me not to get involved with you.’
‘But you did! And part of the deal was that you did weddings.’
His phone beeped with an incoming message and Sarah watched a familiar smirk spread across his face.
‘Well, Casanova, this time you’re going to have to find someone else!’ She grabbed her satchel. ‘There’s fresh coffee downstairs if you want any. I’ll be back after lunch.’
She was heading for the stairs when she felt Jeff’s hand close around her arm.
‘Hey, let go of me! Jeff, you’re hurting me!’
*
Matthew looked up as his door swung open. ‘Hi, madwoman, Hillier have just phoned and …’ he paused. ‘What happened to you?’
‘I walked into a door. We fought. The door won.’
He stood up to take a closer look. ‘When did that happen?’
‘Just as I was leaving to come here.’
He stepped over to his phone and pressed a single digit. ‘Poppy, Sarah’s arrived. Bring the chardonnay.’ He put down the phone. ‘Are you OK? How can you cut your lip on a door? Has Jeff se
en what you’ve done?’
‘No, he wasn’t there.’
Episode Thirty-eight
The corridor leading back was the same corridor we had walked along less than four hours earlier but this time each set of swing doors took us further away from the hospital atmosphere and from the likelihood of running into Geraint Williams. As we took the lift up to the third floor, I registered Matthew’s agitation.
‘Did they tell you I was still losing memories?’
‘They said your mind was refusing to let you remember.’
‘About my husband? And a sister who died the day I disappeared?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s a never-ending list of things you haven’t told me, isn’t it?’
‘Sarah, love, I’ve tried to do and say what they told me was best for you.’
