What Was Lost

by Jean Levy

  Diana is leaning over the banister mumbling to herself … just swear words, I think. And Arachne is flat against the wall on the landing as if somebody has stuck her to it. I pull myself up. The pain is still there, as if he is still kicking me. But I manage to crawl to the top of the stairs. I can’t put any weight on my arm. Jeff is lying on his front. His head is on the hall floor but his neck is twisted completely round. One of his arms is folded underneath him, his legs are stretched up the stairs. One of them is bent the wrong way. Arachne screams. I use the stair rail to pull myself up and now I’m moving downstairs. Slowly, in case Jeff moves. I’m stepping over his legs on to the hall floor. He is breathing. We have to call an ambulance. But I can see Diana feeling her way down towards me. There are terrible pains in my back but I’m managing to help my mother down past Jeff’s legs, leading her into the lounge, sitting her down, handing her the TV controller.

  I’ve shut the door and I’m going back to Jeff.

  There’s another scream and Arachne is bending over Jeff. She’s still wearing my red jacket. She’s moaning and wailing. I have to phone for help.

  ‘Arachne, I have to phone …’

  ‘You’ve killed him!’

  She launches herself at me. The pain rips through me, right up to my throat. I feel myself falling. I catch hold of the stair post to stop myself landing on top of Jeff. Blood is coming out of his mouth. Arachne is screaming.

  ‘You’ve killed him!’

  ‘Arachne, no … we need an ambulance.’

  But she isn’t listening to me. And now she’s running to the door. I pull myself away from Jeff. I don’t want to fall on him and hurt him.

  Arachne’s pulled open the front door.

  ‘Arachne, stop!’

  She’s on the pavement outside. She’s running towards the road. I’m right behind her. I can’t stop her. I see her stumble forward and … There’s a screech of brakes and a flash of red and my sister is gone. And where she was there are just big double wheels still moving, slower and slower. Then a crash of metal and breaking glass. And now everything’s still. But Arachne’s gone and I can’t see where she is.

  It was all my fault. I need to tell Grandma what happened.

  But I don’t think Grandma’s there anymore.

  Perhaps Daddy will help.

  Episode Fifty-two

  The room was silent. I felt Matthew’s arm tighten around me. I wanted to tell him how very sorry I was. But not then. Not there. With other people hearing. I glanced over at Poppy and Annabelle huddled beside one another. Watching me.

  ‘I’m sorry you all had to hear that.’

  Still nobody spoke. Sam got to his feet. ‘Do you need anything, Sarah?’

  ‘I’m OK. There isn’t much more to tell. I can’t remember anything after the lorry hit the car, just bits and pieces that might not be real, but I must have wandered off straightaway because you said nobody reported seeing me and there must have been people on the scene very quickly. I’ve got a few disconnected memories of headlights coming towards me. And walking with pain in my back and down my legs.’

  ‘You would probably have gone into immediate shock,’ said Sam. ‘The wandering is a survival strategy. A flight away from an unmanageable situation. But it was a big distance to have covered in the state you must have been in.’

  Matthew rubbed his eyes. ‘I don’t understand why no one reported seeing you walking around like that for two days.’

  ‘People don’t like to get involved,’ said Poppy. ‘They’d rather die than help somebody in trouble.’

  ‘And you left your bag in the car, so you wouldn’t have had any money on you.’

  Annabelle looked at Matthew and chewed her lip. ‘Perhaps someone gave her a lift. We used to hitch to the coast all the time when we were at uni. Truckers will pick up anybody, no questions asked. But I’ve no idea why Sarah finished up in that cove place.’

  ‘It could have been anywhere,’ said Sam. ‘But Sarah, you must have found somewhere to shelter. It was bitterly cold those two nights. Below zero. You must have managed to get yourself under cover.’

  They watched me get to my feet and walk over to the bookcase.

  ‘Where they found me wasn’t just anywhere.’ I pulled out my old, battered dictionary and carried it back to the sofa. ‘This was my granny’s dictionary. This and a copy of Andersen’s Fairy Tales are all I have left of her. Two books and the stories we used to invent.’

  I flicked through the thin pages to find a black and white postcard and handed it to Sam.

  ‘After my father left Diana, he moved south to be near the sea. Granny Clark used to take me to visit him, not often, but perhaps half a dozen times. We used to go on a train to a place called Raggedy Lyme.’

  ‘Where the LOST things hide?’ said Poppy.

  ‘Yes. It was actually Lyme Regis.’ I smiled. ‘My father had a lonely old house, high on the cliffs above Beer Cove. It had big windows overlooking the sea. And a telescope upstairs, so he could look out towards the horizon and watch the stars. I used to stand on a stool and watch the moon move across the night and he’d tell me the names of the constellations. He told me there were some stars that you could only see on the other side of the world. Like the stars of the Southern Cross. And one day he was going to go and see them and write and tell me what they were like. During the daytime we used to go to a beach and find fossils. Then one day Grandma said we were not going to see him for a long time because he’d gone across the sea to the southern stars.’

  I closed the old dictionary and put it on the floor. ‘He wrote me letters but then suddenly Granny Clark was gone and I was living with Diana and the letters stopped. Diana said he must have forgotten me. I tried to trace him when I first went to college, but there was no record of him after he left for Australia. I’ve taken a couple of trips to Beer Cove, over the years, the last time just after my first book was published. I suppose I thought that somehow he might know that I’d become someone worthwhile. That I’d earned his return. But the house was boarded up and nobody remembered him. I think the things that happened at my mother’s wiped everything out, took me back to those times with my father. I might have gone to his house on the cliffs. Perhaps I thought he was still there and he’d want to help me.’

  ‘Sarah, love, we’ll try and trace him.’

  I shook my head. ‘If he’d cared about me, he would have taken me with him. He never attempted to contact me after my grandmother died. If he did I never found out about it. And he shouldn’t have gone so far away from her. She was broken-hearted. People never consider how going in search of their dreams is sometimes a selfish thing to do. People are horrible.’

  ‘You’re not,’ said Poppy. ‘You’re my favourite, kindest person. Equal with Matthew and Michael Jackson.’

  I smiled. ‘So, I think that’s it. Every last disgusting moment of it. At least it’s all the moments I can remember. And, now it’s all back in my head, I can’t help thinking that my mind really was doing me a favour by hiding it from me. And I’m scared that if the police ever find out I was there and that Jeff was thrown downstairs, they’ll suspect that what I’ve just told you is my version of something far worse.’ I tugged at Matthew’s sleeve. ‘I think I’d better get dressed. And, Sam, would you tell Bob I’ve got a load of my memories back and could he please think of a way of helping me forget them. One that doesn’t involve forgetting the four of you. Or Alfie.’

  *

  We ordered in pizza. And as we ate, I listened to Annabelle quizzing Sam about a recent drug experience that left her seeing purple, Sam assuring her that enduring psycho-emotional conversion was not that uncommon and had she considered sticking to something more reliable like sparkling wine.

  Matthew folded his arms in disgust. ‘You shouldn’t indulge her, Sam!’

  ‘He’s not indulging me. And I like the weird stuff. Especially when I’m welding. It was Sarah who hated it.’

  ‘What?’ snapped Matthew.

&nb
sp; ‘Sarah had a thing about time turning orange. She’s a complete lightweight.’

  Matthew put his head in his hands. ‘Sam, please give Annabelle something to stop her talking?’

  *

  Poppy left late afternoon, clutching two boxes of cornflakes, delighted that I’d cancelled my hospital appointment in order to spend Tuesday with him, bickering about grammar. Annabelle hugged him goodbye then offered to drive Sam back to Swiss Cottage, but first she needed to spend a while upstairs, sifting through Jeff’s kitchenware; she thought she might be gestating an installation involving saucepan lids.

  Sam watched her go then turned to me. ‘She’s quite unique, isn’t she?’

  So, while Annabelle crashed around upstairs, Sam and Matthew sat with me at the kitchen table enjoying a post-lunch glass of rosé. Eventually, Sam went to collect his things. He returned carrying one of my snow scenes.

  Matthew laughed. ‘Thinking of starting a collection, Sam?’

  Sam handed me the water-filled globe. ‘I noticed this when I was leering through the window at Matthew’s car. You’d think somebody might have noticed it when they were packing things away, wouldn’t you?’

  I held the tacky object up for Matthew to see. It featured a mermaid and a fishing boat and a banner which read: WELCOME TO BEER COVE. I shook it to disturb a shower of silver snow then set it down on the windowsill.

  Episode Fifty-three

  Of all the things I loved about Matthew I loved his pastel green eyes the most. And the scent of his hair, the way he smiled, the things he said, the sound of his breathing when he was asleep, the fact that he cared about children’s books. In fact, I loved everything about him but really, more than anything else, I loved that he was lying there beside me, after everyone had left and now the house was still. I loved those quiet end-of-the-day moments. I still do.

  ‘Matthew?’

  He rolled over to face me. ‘Mm?’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘It was a good one, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Not that, idiot! I mean thank you for not letting me be alone through all this …’

  ‘Hey, come on, Sarah. No tears.’

  ‘Matthew, I have to cry.’

  He sat up. ‘Sam said to talk about it. He said it would help.’

  I wiped my eyes and tried to organise my feelings into words but my head was too full of repeating scenes, of lies and guilt and disappointment that words could never adequately describe.

  ‘I’m sad about how Jeff let me carry on taking the pill all that time.’ I fought back the useless tears. ‘And I didn’t even know it was your baby.’

  ‘We’ll try again. They don’t think the miscarriage caused any permanent damage. We’ll make sure. Then there’ll be no stopping us.’

  I took a slow breath. ‘I can’t believe I wasted all those years with him. Living with his lies. I know I was stupid to marry him. And stay with him. But I wanted to belong to someone. It was all right to begin with but …’

  ‘Sarah, it was never all right. And he really did want you to belong to him. Just him. He treated you like a piece of property.’

  ‘Perhaps that’s what Arachne found attractive about him. I’m so sad about Arachne. However much she hated me, she was still my sister. I’d prefer her and Jeff to be alive and together and just leave me to be with you. And I can’t help wondering what kind of person she might have been if she’d just had an ordinary family.’

  ‘It’s all over, Sarah. There’s no point in dwelling over things like that.’

  ‘But she never had a life. It was terrible, seeing …’ My throat was aching with trying to control the tremor in my voice. ‘She disappeared under those huge wheels. I can’t forget the noises. The brakes screeching. And the crash. Every time I close my eyes, she’s there, painted on the inside of my eyelids, accusing me.’ I threw my hand over my face. Felt Matthew lifting it away.

  ‘Sarah, love, we’ll talk to Bob on Wednesday. I don’t think you’ll ever forget those things … Not again anyway, but he can help you come to terms with them.’

  I placed my finger across his lips. ‘Matthew, I know Sam has to tell Dr Gray. But I don’t want anyone else to know what I’ve remembered. Once people discover I was there, it comes down to believing my version of what happened.’ I watched furrows of confusion deepen across his brow. ‘How do you know I’ve not lied? To all of you.’

  ‘I trust you.’

  ‘I’ve lied to you in the past.’

  ‘No, you … When have you lied to me?’

  ‘I’ve lied about finishing my final draft when I haven’t even started it.’

  He threw his head back and laughed. ‘Sarah, I trust you.’

  ‘But what about all the people who won’t trust me? Della Brown suspects me. And she’s in cahoots with Geraint Williams. He’snot going to lose interest, is he? Even if nobody tells him I’ve remembered, that scanner will tell him. They don’t hang murderers anymore, do they?’

  ‘Sarah, you didn’t do anything.’

  ‘That hasn’t always stopped people being hanged.’

  ‘Look, we’ll speak to Sam about it. Before Wednesday. OK? And I’ll go over and collect those other things from the police station. Whatever they are. I’ll take the Escort. Brazen it out. Guilty people never walk into the mouth of Hell.’

  I tried to smile. ‘I really like Sam.’

  ‘Me too. Let’s hope he made it back to Swiss Cottage. Annabelle had that look in her eye. He should never have asked her about her welding.’ He stroked my hair away from my forehead. ‘You ought to try and get some sleep.’

  ‘I can’t sleep. My head’s too crazy with memories, the new ones and the old ones, all jostling around, trying to arrange themselves into the right order.’

  ‘Well, I hope the ones about me come out on top.’ He briefly held my gaze. ‘You do actually remember me, right?’

  ‘Yes.’ I twiddled with his hair. ‘I remember trying hard not to be in love with you.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because losing somebody you love is terrible. Maybe that’s what my mind was doing. What it’s always tried to do: make me forget people I loved so I wouldn’t be sad when they went away. Like my father went away.’ I let my hands slide up and around the back of his neck. ‘I can remember lusting over you before we were lovers.’

  ‘In Frankfurt?’

  ‘No, two weeks ago. With my primary school brain and my porno mags. It must have been like being seduced by Holly Hobbie. And you actually said no to sex, which is unbelievable.’

  ‘I even surprised myself.’

  I let my hands fall back onto my pillow. ‘I’ve been thinking: when they found me, how did they know it was me? Because I didn’t have my wallet or driving licence with me.’

  ‘Well, Miss Hobbie, you had a credit card receipt in your jeans pocket and they managed to decipher it and contacted me.’

  ‘It was your credit card receipt?’

  ‘Yeah, for those black patent shoes. The ones that you can’t walk in.’

  ‘Did you buy them?’

  ‘Yes. For the book launch. You accused me of trying to turn you into a sex object. Or a human version of Lucy. So I gave you the receipt and told you to exchange them for a pair of slippers with bobbles on. Remember?’

  I briefly panicked that I’d forgotten something I ought to know. That it was all starting again? Then, suddenly, I recalled that argument and started to laugh.

  ‘I wasn’t really going to take them back. I was going to practise walking in them and surprise you by wearing them when you least expected it.’

  ‘Well, you certainly managed to do that. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at them again without seeing you naked.’

  ‘I was wearing knickers.’

  ‘Oh yes, so you were. Aren’t you tired?’

  ‘No, not really.’ I traced my finger across his chest. ‘I don’t want to take much with me when we move to Hampstead. Just the Klimt and the fairies. And Alfie. Jeff�
��s parents can have everything else.’

  ‘Perhaps we can leave your disgusting car here as well. You can buy a new one with the money from the TV series.’ He smiled at my confusion. ‘In all the excitement we forgot to tell you. Poppy’s negotiating a Jenny Berry episode deal.’ He tugged a strand of my hair. ‘They want you to write more.’

  I studied his eyes for a moment. Then I laughed. ‘You know, that was the best half apple anyone ever invested!’

  Episode Fifty-four

  Most days are just days. But some days are all about change; and the day back at Greystone Park was going to be one of those. What I could not possibly have known was how many changes that day had in store for me.

  Sam, I knew, had already discussed my recovered memories with Dr Gray, but nevertheless they both listened intently as, once again, I sat beside Matthew and detailed the events of that December afternoon. This second time of telling was nowhere near as difficult as the first, perhaps because the first time I was telling myself as well as the others and this time I already knew every last detail. Bob Gray let me finish and the room was silent for a while before he offered any comment. Eventually, he leaned away from his desk and peered at me over the top of his spectacles.