by Julie Sykes
As the day progressed there were more visitors. First a cheerful orderly with the lunch trolley – he demanded a smile in exchange for a meal. His friendly banter made me laugh and I willingly traded a smile with him. Not that I ate much of the food. I had little appetite. I picked over the tuna salad and barely touched the strawberry cheesecake. A social worker called Nicky came next. She was eager to discuss what would happen to me once I was discharged from hospital. It was hardly a discussion. My fate had been sealed when Doctor Poole realised that my phone had no port for a charger and was a fake, or not a phone but something else. Either way, all hopes that it would reveal my identity were dashed.
‘We don’t have much to go on,’ said Nicky.
She clutched at a thick wodge of paper. I couldn’t help but raise my eyebrows. If that wasn’t much it was just as well there wasn’t a lot to go on.
‘Doctor Poole thinks that you’re sixteen, so we have to treat you as a minor. It means you’ll be placed in a foster home. It’s only a temporary measure,’ she added, catching my grimace. ‘We’ve got to act quickly. Your injuries are superficial. You’re almost ready to be discharged.’
Superficial! Was this woman serious? I wouldn’t call an event that wiped my brain so clean that I didn’t even know my name, superficial.
Nicky caught my expression. ‘Your physical injuries,’ she added quickly. ‘We can arrange for you to see a psychiatrist as an outpatient.’
Great! I didn’t bother to argue. I didn’t need a shrink. My head was empty, not messed up. Let them book me an appointment. By the time it came round I might already have the answers I craved. I had my sights set on the small black gadget now lying in the top drawer of my locker. I had a strong feeling that it would tell me more about my life than any shrink doctor.
The social worker bulldozed on, asking me questions about the type of foster placement I’d prefer. My response was less than helpful, but how the hell was I supposed to know what sort of family I wanted to lodge with: big, small, with pets or without? Nicky could place me with foster parents from another planet for all the difference it would make to me right now. Then there was the solicitor.
‘I don’t need one,’ I said decisively when Kirsty announced his arrival.
‘Of course you do,’ she’d answered as she plumped my pillows and smoothed my hair. ‘How are you going to cope if that was your mother in the car? Yes, they’re putting you in temporary foster care now, but what happens when you turn eighteen? You’ll need somewhere else to live and that requires money. You’re owed compensation.’
At first sight Mike Saunders, the solicitor, looked scarily official but actually he was very nice. He didn’t use baffling legal jargon and he didn’t talk down to me when he was explaining my rights. But when he casually asked, ‘So you can’t remember your real name?’ I froze. It was like I’d been dunked head first into a bucket of sleeta. Fear prickled my spine. An image flashed into my mind of a woman, smartly dressed, pointing to a computer presentation projected onto a clean white wall.
NEVER tell them your real name. Forget how nice they are. It could cost you your life.
I acted on instinct, forcing myself to relax and squashing my rising panic to a place so deep that I couldn’t feel it any more. The woman’s voice continued to play in my head, low and urgent.
Tell them anything personal and we’re all as good as dead.
‘No, I’m sorry,’ I shrugged, helplessly.
Mike didn’t even raise an eyebrow. ‘There’s nothing to be sorry about,’ he said. He continued to make notes on a large pad, covering the pages with his deft strokes in black pen. I watched, my expression neutral, even though my insides were tighter than the laces of Mike’s shiny black shoes. Finally he stopped writing and, delving into his jacket pocket, he pulled out his card. ‘Keep in touch. I need to know where to find you.’
‘I’ll do that.’
The moment he’d gone I dropped the card on the bed, scared that by touching it I could give away something that was strictly classified. I couldn’t help the nervous laughter that burst from my mouth, but silenced it quickly. What was going on? Had that been a flashback? Did it mean anything or was my mind broken – crushed in the accident like the car I’d been travelling in? I sat for ages, just staring at the white walls, while I searched in my head for answers.
A long while later I tried to get up again. This time I made it as far as the window. I gazed out, leaning on the sill to catch my breath. I was on the second floor and my room overlooked a car park. It was lined with trees and their outstretched branches were green and lush. It had to be summer I decided, as I watched a woman, dressed in shorts, walk towards the hospital building. My room was air-conditioned but the woman, who looked fresh and summery, made me feel hot and uncomfortable. My hair itched and I suddenly longed to take a shower.
To my embarrassment my gown wasn’t secure and the tied back gaped as I walked, revealing bare skin underneath. I crossed the room and opened the door by a crack to spy on the outside. No way could I go any further if there were other people around. Just as I was inching the door wider, someone pushed it from the other side. My arms flew round me, gripping the gown in place.
‘Going somewhere?’
‘Kirsty!’
My breath rushed out in relief.
‘It’s lovely to see you up but I need to do your obs. Sit down there for me.’
She shepherded me over to the chair, barely waiting for me to sit before she stuck a digital thermometer in my mouth. She laid her fingers on my wrist and took my pulse.
‘Can I have a shower?’ I mumbled, as I tried not to bite the thermometer or spit it out.
‘Of course! I’ll find you a towel and some soap in a minute.’
‘Have I got any clothes?’
‘Stop talking or it’ll take longer.’
When the thermometer beeped Kirsty removed it. She squinted as she read the number display. ‘Normal. Good girl! Right then, clothes next. We ditched yours. We had to cut them off you, but there’s usually some spare stuff hanging around. Lost property and items that people have donated. I wonder what size?’ Head tilted Kirsty pursed her lips while she looked me up and down.
‘Hmm, I bet you’re a ten. Wait here and I’ll see what I can do.’
While I waited I wondered if anyone was missing me. Perhaps someone was calling all the local hospitals right now and it was only a matter of time before they discovered I was here and came to get me. I wished they’d hurry up. I didn’t want to stay in hospital. I needed to be with people who knew me. Then my memory might return.
Kirsty came back. She struggled through the door, pushing it open with her hip, as her hands were full. I went to help her.
‘Is all this for me? Thanks.’
‘Don’t thank me until you see what’s there,’ Kirsty answered mildly. She dumped everything down on the bed. ‘It’s not Prada.’
‘Prada’ didn’t ring any bells, but I didn’t say anything as I sorted through the pile of clothes. Eventually I chose a plain blue T-shirt – misshapen and faded from too many rides in the washing machine, a grey hoodie – with the number 18 stitched on it in red cotton – and a pair of jeans. There were two bras, so I took the smallest, and there was also a brand new packet of underwear. There was no choice of footwear, just a hideous pair of fluffy slippers that would have looked great if I was going all out for the yeti look. Kirsty had also found shampoo, half a bottle of conditioner, a bar of soap and a tube of toothpaste.
‘Some of this is stuff is new,’ I said pointing at a hairbrush and the toothbrush, still in their original packaging.
‘I went to the shop in the lobby.’
‘Thank you.’ It seemed inadequate and Kirsty’s kindness made me suddenly tearful.
‘It was nothing,’ she said gruffly.
Kirsty dug out a hospital towel and took me alo
ng to the shower room. It was an antiquated, windowless box. It took me ages to work out that instead of waving my hand across the dial I physically had to turn it to get the spray to work. With the door shut, and the shower pounding hot water over me, it wasn’t hard to imagine I was the only person in the world. I guess in many ways I was, at least in my world! The thought filled me with white-hot panic. I slammed it away. I refused to believe that no one was missing me.
It was strange to see my body for the first time. I was covered in bruises and had a long red welt that ran diagonally from my neck across my chest, where the seat belt had restrained me. It was sore and I washed carefully to avoid the bruising. I finished by shampooing and conditioning my hair. I stood under the shower, loving the tingling sensation as the water cascaded over me. It was the first thing I’d really enjoyed since I’d woken. It was only when the skin on my fingertips began to wrinkle that I reluctantly turned off the shower. I squeezed the excess water out of my hair by winding it in my hands, and then towelled my body dry on the scratchy hospital towel. That was a novelty too. Had I gone back in time, or hadn’t they got people driers in Scotland yet?
I was much happier now I was clean and ready to face whatever came next. My first challenge was dressing in the cramped shower room without slipping on the damp floor. I leaned my shoulder against the wall as I wriggled into my underwear and then the jeans. The bra was on the generous side and the jeans far too loose around the waist, but both were a vast improvement on the hospital gown so I wasn’t complaining. When I was fully dressed, I stood and brushed my teeth at the tiny sink. I collected up my toiletries. As I padded back along the corridor the yeti slippers made loud slapping noises on the polished floor. When I reached my room I saw a group of people gathered inside. I stopped and my heart thudded loudly.
A picture was forming in my head. It was so vivid that for a moment I swear I caught a whiff of perfume as the woman from my earlier flashback materialised. The woman’s face was in close up, her brown eyes intense as she pressed the point home.
NEVER tell them your real name.
The picture faded and I wanted to run away. Only it was too late. The people in my room had seen me.
Three
‘I’m sorry. We startled you.’
I stared nervously at the family gathered by my bed. There was a man, a woman and a boy who looked about the same age as me. The woman continued speaking but I could hardly hear her above the noise of my heart thundering against my chest. I breathed deeply until I felt calmer. I felt awkward as I studied the people. Did I know them? Were we related? I looked at the boy from under my long fringe and my heart skipped with relief. His name was… it was there, on the edge of my tongue. Come on, what was it now? The boy was cute. He was a head taller than me and built like an athlete. He had bright blonde hair and the most amazing blue eyes. He saw me staring and smiled. My heart sank. I didn’t know him and the name I’d sought dissolved, leaving me with the sour taste of disappointment.
I smoothed down my damp hair self-consciously. ‘Hi…’ I hesitated. ‘Do I know you?’
‘We’re the Marshalls. I’m Mia, this is my husband, Jeff, and Daniel, our son,’ Mia Marshall reached out as if she was going to take my hand. She hesitated then let her arm drop back to her side. ‘Jeff and Dan were travelling behind you when your car got hit.’
My insides somersaulted. ‘You pulled me out!’
‘Dan did. I went for the driver, but the belt was jammed…’ Jeff’s voice cracked. A haunted look crossed his face and I guessed I wasn’t the only one having flashbacks.
There was a silence. Finally I couldn’t bear it any longer. I had to know.
‘What did she look like?’ I asked. ‘The driver, I mean.’
‘I don’t remember. It all happened so fast and it was dark.’ Jeff shook his head. ‘Short hair, I think. She was a wee lass, I could have easily lifted her, but I couldn’t get her out.’
‘You did what you could.’ It sounded ungrateful. ‘Thanks,’ I added. ‘And thanks for helping me.’ I glanced over at Dan.
He nodded then looked away quickly, as if being a hero embarrassed him. I racked my brains for something to say, to break the awkward silence, and caught sight of my huge yeti feet. What if he thought these were my own clothes? Now I was the one who was embarrassed. Totally tongue-tied, I ran a hand through my hair exposing my black eye.
‘Ouch! That looks sore. Dan got a black eye just like that a few months ago,’ Mia volunteered.
‘How did it happen?’
‘Sailing. I got smacked in the face by the boom. The wind was gusting and I wasn’t paying attention. I was lucky – I almost went overboard.’ Dan’s blue eyes twinkled mischievously as he remembered.
I smiled and suddenly felt more relaxed. Dan opened his mouth to speak, but Mia got in first.
‘We run the Waterside School of Music. It’s near Kirkgreen. Maybe you’ve heard of us?’
I shook my head. ‘So you’re all musicians?’
Mia nodded. ‘I play flute and the piano. Jeff plays piano and violin, and Dan plays the saxophone. What about you, do you play an instrument?’
‘I…’ I paused, wondering if I did.
‘Sorry, daft question! Look, if you’re staying in the area, please drop in and see us. The nurse said they’re nearly ready to discharge you. Do you know where you’re going yet?’
‘I think they’re still working it out.’
‘Oh, I see. Well, you could…’ she hesitated. Then she reached out and patted my arm.
‘It’s going to be fine. Foster care won’t be for long, a few days at the most. Your real family will come for you soon.’
If I have any family left. I faked a smile and wished that my eyes would stop welling with tears every time someone was kind to me. Mia tactfully changed the subject. I gradually relaxed and became less tongue-tied. The Marshalls seemed nice. They were quiet, clearly not wanting to seem too cheerful, given the situation, but they were open and friendly. Their visit passed quickly. All too soon they were saying goodbye. Dan gave me a friendly grin, Mia hugged me swiftly and Jeff shook my hand. When they had gone I felt even lonelier than I had before. I sat on the bed and stared miserably at the stark white walls. All the questions that I’d tried so hard to avoid swarmed into my head like maggots invading an apple.
The nurses changed shifts. Kirsty came to see me before she went home and brought me a bundle of magazines that she’d swiped from the staff room. ‘Take care. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
With nothing better to do, I flopped on top of the bed and flicked through the magazines. They weren’t very interesting, but I kept reading in the vain hope that something in them might spark a memory. If anything the magazines scared me even more. How could I not recognise any of the current fashions, or the names and faces of the hottest celebrities? I hadn’t even known the year we were in until I saw it on the cover of one of the magazines. It made me feel out of touch, like I’d been living somewhere else entirely.
A long while later, a girl wearing a green auxiliary’s uniform came round wheeling a beverages trolley. She opened the door, holding it with her foot as she called, ‘Anything to drink?’
I sat up self-consciously, pulled down my T-shirt and pushed back my hair. The auxiliary looked amused. She patted her own honey gold hair, caught in a chic knot at the nape of her neck, with a carefully manicured hand. She was ultra-poised and wore her drab green uniform with the confidence of someone who knows she’d look good dressed in anything.
‘What is there?’ I asked.
‘Tea, coffee, hot chocolate or hot milk.’
‘Er…’ Did I like any of those? ‘Tea, please,’ I said, opting for the first thing on the list. ‘I haven’t seen you before. Have you just started your shift?’
The auxiliary expertly manoeuvred her trolley into the room and began to pour tea from an urn i
nto a mug. ‘I’m a volunteer. I do three nights a week – it’ll look good when I apply for university. I’ve just finished my first year at college.’
‘That sounds great. I’m Amber, by the way.’
‘I’m Holly Jenkins. Great’s not the word I’d use,’ she said, dryly. ‘But I suppose it could be worse. My friend volunteers here too and she got geriatrics.’
Holly was too busy checking me out, her lips curving up at the sight of my second-hand clothes, to notice the yeti slippers I’d abandoned in the middle of the floor. She tripped over them as she brought the drink to my bedside. ‘Eek!’ she squealed.
The hot liquid splashed over her hand and she dropped the mug. It must have hurt quite badly because she didn’t stop it, even as the mug plummeted closer to the floor. I relaxed my body and then fixed the cup with my mind. I held it in the air until the tea stopped sloshing about. It felt good. I made the mug hover in front of Holly, smiling broadly at her as I waited for her to take it from me. But there was no nudging of minds to show that Holly was ready. Then I noticed that she’d turned whiter than the room. She was clearly in no state to help. Concerned that the burn might be serious I moved the mug to the drinks trolley. I put it down slowly to avoid spilling what was left of the drink. Holly stared straight at me, and not in a friendly way either.
‘Sorry, did I do something wrong? You didn’t mind me helping, did you?’
Holly’s eyes bulged and I wondered if she was having some kind of fit. She grabbed the trolley and screamed like she was being mugged.
‘What?’ I jumped off the bed, but I still couldn’t see what the problem was.
‘Get away from me.’ Holly continued to scream. She bashed the trolley into the wall as she reversed it from the room. I was impressed. Who’d have thought that one person could make such a noise? Holly, unbelievably, could scream louder, and did just that when the wheel of the trolley locked up. The door swung open and a nurse rushed in, snapping on rubber gloves, ready to deal with the emergency. She was very unimpressed to find me alive and well.
