Spare Me the Truth

by CJ Carver

  ‘We thought it would be good to make a new start of it.’ He repeated what he’d been saying for the past eighteen months. ‘After everything that happened before.’

  Someone made to push past him for the stall behind, and he moved sideways. Savannah moved with him, stepping close. She was frowning as she said, ‘Don’t you remember anything of Luke’s death?’

  He shook his head. ‘I’m not sure I’d want to even if I could.’

  ‘And you and Jenny are OK?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ He was genuinely puzzled.

  She looked at him searchingly, her face sombre. ‘You’re different, you know.’

  ‘So people have said.’ Caution rose inside him.

  ‘I mean you’re still you, but something fundamental has changed.’

  He blinked. ‘Like what?’

  For the first time, she looked away. Nibbled her lip. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t be sticking my nose into things that aren’t really my business.’

  She looked so crestfallen that he couldn’t help it, he smiled.

  She smiled back, obviously relieved that he hadn’t been offended by anything she’d said, and something about the lightness of her expression triggered a memory. For no reason he could think of, as he looked at her, he thought he could smell cigarette smoke.

  ‘You smoke, right?’ he asked.

  It was as though a light had been switched on inside her. ‘You do remember!’ she said.

  ‘No, I don’t.’ He hastened to disabuse her. ‘It’s just occasionally I get a sense of something, that’s all. It’s not a real memory. Did I ever smoke?’

  ‘Never.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘You always gave me a hard time about it and –’

  She swallowed her words when Jenny appeared, expression tight.

  ‘Hi, Jenny,’ she said cheerfully.

  ‘Savannah.’ Jenny’s tone was curt.

  The two women surveyed one another. Jenny was as tense as a bowstring but Savannah looked as relaxed and tranquil as a cat sprawled in the sun.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Jenny asked.

  ‘Dirty weekend,’ Savannah said.

  ‘Don’t let us keep you.’

  Savannah smiled slowly, her green eyes glowing. ‘I won’t,’ she purred and then she reached up and pressed a kiss against Dan’s cheek. ‘Bye,’ she said huskily. And walked away, hips swinging sinuously.

  ‘Christ almighty,’ said Jenny, watching her go. ‘That woman is the end.’

  Dan had found the situation amusing and not a little flattering but he didn’t say so to his wife.

  *

  Now, he said to his father, ‘I never told you, but Savannah came and saw me in Chepstow not long after we moved, but Jenny saw her off.’

  ‘She came and saw me too,’ his father admitted.

  ‘What?’ Dan was startled.

  ‘She wanted to know if you’d ever get your memory back. She was a good friend to you.’ His father looked sad. ‘She was missing you.’

  Dan sat quietly for a moment, drinking his tea.

  ‘Does the name Cedric mean anything to you?’ Dan asked.

  ‘No.’ His father frowned at him. ‘Why? Should it?’

  Dan said nothing.

  ‘What’s going on, son? Does Jenny know you’re asking all these questions?’

  The TV upstairs was suddenly switched off. Silence.

  ‘Tread carefully,’ his father warned. ‘She’s had a tough time of it, poor girl. She didn’t just lose Luke that day, she lost you too. Try not to destroy what she’s worked so hard to build. She’s only just started to smile again.’

  Long silence.

  Dan cleared his throat. ‘I need you to do something for me.’

  ‘Anything. Just say the word.’

  ‘Don’t tell Jenny what we’ve talked about.’ He got to his feet. ‘Not under any circumstances.’

  Alarm filled his father’s eyes. ‘Why ever not?’

  Dan spouted some bullshit about not worrying her needlessly but inside he longed to shout the truth:

  Because I don’t trust her anymore.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  ‘Dan.’

  He didn’t turn from the window but continued gazing outside. The sky had lightened from dull black to dark grey and the clouds were even lower. He guessed it might snow later.

  ‘Good morning,’ Jenny added tentatively.

  He heard her cross the kitchen. He moved aside, so he didn’t have to be near her when she put on the kettle.

  ‘That’s it,’ she said. Her voice was tight. ‘I’ve had enough of this crap.’

  He briefly closed his eyes. Here it comes.

  ‘If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I am going to scream, OK? I will wake up Aimee and we can have this out in front of her, or we can do it now while she’s still asleep.’

  Not liking either option, he decided to make his escape and started for the door.

  ‘If you leave,’ she bit out, ‘I am going to empty every cupboard and smash every glass, every bit of chinaware on the floor. I’ve had enough, OK? Enough!’

  To his surprise, he heard her voice waver. He glanced over his shoulder. She wore sleeping shorts beneath a skinny-ribbed top with spaghetti straps. She’d flung on his dressing gown, an acknowledgement that it was colder than usual, but her feet were bare. Her fists were clenched at her sides and she was biting her lip, trying to control her tears. Immediately, he began to melt, feeling protective, wanting to stop her pain and he faltered, torn between mistrust and love.

  ‘And don’t think because I’m tearful I’m not angry,’ she choked, ‘because I am. You can’t keep giving me the cold shoulder. You can’t shut me out, Dan. Not again. I won’t let you.’

  ‘When have I shut you out?’ he asked.

  ‘You used to do it all the time.’ A tear escaped and fell down her cheek but she didn’t brush it away. ‘And that was OK, because that was before . . .’

  Before Luke’s death.

  ‘. . . but now you’re doing it when everything’s OK and I don’t understand. Where were you yesterday? Why won’t you tell me what you’re doing, where you’re going? Why the sudden secrecy?’

  ‘If you really want to know . . .’ He saw her eyes flare with anticipation and felt something shrink inside. ‘I went and saw Dad.’

  She blinked. ‘Oh.’

  She hadn’t expected that. He wondered where she thought he’d been.

  ‘He sends his love,’ Dan added, like he usually did.

  ‘He’s OK?’

  ‘Hale and hearty as ever.’

  Long silence.

  He said, ‘I’m going to build a snowman with Aimee. Then I’m going to see Dr Orvis.’

  Jenny frowned.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll pay him myself,’ Dan assured her. Jenny’s parents had footed Dan’s extensive medical bills until he’d been discharged from hospital, and at over a hundred pounds a pop, Dr Orvis wasn’t cheap. ‘I know he’s expensive,’ he started to say, but Jenny cut him off.

  ‘It’s not that.’ She shook her head. ‘Why do you need to see him? I thought all that had finished.’

  ‘It has. But I want to check a couple of things.’

  He saw her apprehension rise. ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like whether I’ll get any more of my memory back,’ he improvised. ‘Seeing Stella Reavey made me realise how much I’ve lost. I want to know the person I used to be. But I can’t. I thought seeing her might prompt me to remember something, anything, but she was like a stranger. I want to know the chances of regaining more memories of that time. Like our life in London. You know, things about our friends, maybe even some of Luke . . .’

  As he watched, she visibly relaxed. Her fists unclenched and her shoulders dropped. Her release of tension was so obvious that for a moment he wondered if she was doing it on purpose.

  ‘Oh, Dan,’ she said. Just two words but they were heartfelt, a combination of sorrow and empathy.

 
His mouth twisted. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Stupid, I know.’

  She came and stood before him. She didn’t touch him. If she had, he might have taken a step back, recoiled. He marvelled at how well she knew him. Holding his eyes, she said simply, ‘I love you.’

  He looked at her and even though he felt her words resonate, and knew she meant them, he couldn’t help thinking: But what about the man you spoke to about me? The one you told Stella was dead?

  Normally he’d say, ‘I love you too,’ but today he said, ‘I know.’

  He saw the hurt in her eyes, but he couldn’t do anything about it. He said, ‘I’ll go and wake Aimee now.’

  *

  The snowman was pretty pathetic, half mud, half snow, and the size of a wellington boot, but Aimee was thrilled with it. She’d used mismatched shirt buttons for eyes, the tip of a carrot for a nose and put one of her doll’s caps jauntily on top. After they’d drunk mugs of hot chocolate in the kitchen, Dan washed up the mugs and told her he had to go, and that he might not be back until after the weekend.

  He saw her thinking this over more deeply than usual.

  ‘What’s up, hunny bunny?’

  ‘Does this mean you won’t be visiting Luke’s grave with us?’

  For a moment he was flummoxed. He’d completely forgotten they were due in London on Sunday.

  ‘No, it doesn’t,’ he said. ‘I’ll meet you and Mummy there. Afterwards we can –’

  ‘Go ice skating!’ She leaped up and started play-skating around the kitchen. ‘Whoosh, whoosh!’

  Jenny came into the kitchen carrying a basket of laundry beneath one arm. She was smiling. ‘What’s this racket, then?’

  ‘Daddy’s taking me ice skating!’

  Jenny raised her eyebrows at Dan.

  ‘After visiting Luke’s grave,’ he said, ‘I thought we could go ice skating in South Kensington afterwards.’

  Jenny looked at him. Her eyes turned soft. ‘I thought you’d forgotten.’

  He felt a moment’s guilt but swept on. ‘I’ve got two race-day experiences, tomorrow and Saturday.’ Which had been true until he’d cancelled them yesterday, but he went on to lie smoothly. ‘I’ll stay at my usual B & B near Goodwood tonight and drive up to London first thing Sunday morning. I’ll meet you at the cemetery. Drive us all back later.’

  Normally Jenny would kiss him goodbye, but she obviously sensed his emotional reserve and kept her distance. ‘Say hi to Orvis for me.’

  He wondered why he should do that when to his knowledge she’d never met him, but bit his tongue. As he drove away, he glanced in his rear-view mirror to see her standing forlornly at the kitchen window, her hand tentatively raised.

  *

  The route to Orvis’s office was so familiar that Dan barely noticed the journey passing. He listened to the news with half an ear. Apparently the body of a naked man had been found locked in a freezer on board a ship due to sail to Chennai. The man’s identity had yet to be confirmed. The reporter said the police had linked the murder to the Bella Frances assault case in Stockton-on-Tees, which surprised Dan. He’d have expected the next victim to be a woman. The fact the killer was using containers and shipping the bodies abroad intrigued him; it seemed overly complicated and fraught with risks. British ports, Customs in particular, were known for being stringent. They had scanners and tried to ensure all cargo leaving and entering the country was legitimate, and matched the documents supplied. No doubt both cases were keeping PC Plod occupied.

  Parking outside the familiar converted barn, he climbed into the frosty air, grabbing his jacket and scarf. The temperature hadn’t climbed above freezing and although it was cloudy it wasn’t snowing yet. There were three cars on the gravel driveway, two of which he recognised from previous visits – the Jaguar belonging to Dr Orvis Fatik, the BMW to his wife. A red Vauxhall sedan was parked in a designated area to the right, indicating it belonged to one of the doctor’s patients.

  He walked round the side of the house for the orangery – Orvis’s office – a beautiful light and airy space overlooking a long lawn and several sweeping beech trees. The orangery was accessible from the main house but the doctor liked his patients to come directly to his office through the garden so as not to disturb his family.

  As he approached, he saw Orvis sitting with a small dark-haired woman. When Orvis caught sight of Dan, he nodded and held up a hand, indicating for Dan to remain outside. He said something to the woman and came to the door, opened it and stepped outside, closed it behind him. He was wearing a colourful Indian-print jacket over a plain beige shirt, and caramel trousers that were several shades lighter than his skin. Small and neat with quick gestures and vibrantly coloured clothes, he had always reminded Dan of a kingfisher.

  ‘Dan,’ he said in a low, gentle voice. ‘I left several messages for you.’

  ‘I know.’

  Orvis’s calm presence didn’t falter. He said, ‘Since it’s obviously urgent, I can fit you in for twenty minutes when my current client leaves.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Dan turned and headed back to his car. Nerves strumming, he scrolled through his contacts list until he found Savannah’s mobile number. Dialled. He wanted to ask her what she knew of his breakdown. When they’d met at the pub, and afterwards in Chepstow, they hadn’t spoken of it.

  He waited for the ring tone, but instead a woman’s voice intoned, this number is no longer in service.

  Dan tried his next colleague, Ellis. This number is no longer in service.

  Spine tingling, he rang Joe. This number is no longer in service.

  He jumped when a footstep crunched on gravel. The dark-haired woman didn’t look at him as she climbed into her Vauxhall and drove away. Dutifully, Dan parked in her empty space. Headed back to the orangery. Inside it was warm, thanks to underfloor heating and a massive radiator lining one of the walls. At one end stood a desk and two filing cabinets – the doctor’s work space; at the other two armchairs and a low table upon which stood a bowl full of coloured marbles.

  As usual, Orvis shook his hand and gestured for him to take a seat. Dan opted to stand. Orvis did the same, mirroring Dan’s stance. Dan wondered if the psychiatrist did it deliberately to put him at ease or if he did it without thinking.

  ‘How have you been?’ Orvis asked. His brown eyes held Dan’s, concerned.

  ‘Could be better,’ Dan said. ‘I’ve just learned that an amnesia drug might have been used on me. I may not have lost my memory due to a breakdown but because of a drug.’

  Although his expression didn’t change, something in Orvis’s eyes turned strangely guileless. It reminded Dan of his father and he felt a lurch of cold terror. Was his father lying to him? In a rush, he recalled what Stella had said in the supermarket.

  Your identity, your past, is a lie. Your entire family has been lying to you.

  ‘Was an amnesia drug used on me?’ Dan asked.

  Orvis looked out of the window at a blackbird hopping across his lawn, foraging for worms.

  ‘Was it?’ Dan persisted.

  He looked back at Dan and gave a sigh. He nodded. ‘Yes.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Dan felt as though he was in an express lift that had just had its cables cut.

  ‘Why wasn’t I told?’

  ‘It was thought it would make things easier for you.’ Orvis moved across the room to his desk, picked up a slender green folder, flipped it open and pulled out some stapled sheets of A4 paper. ‘I didn’t agree, but it was what was eventually decided by the leading psychiatrist at Croughton Royal.’

  ‘Is it common practice to use a drug on someone without their knowledge?’ Dan’s tone hardened. ‘What was I, a guinea pig or something?’

  Orvis walked over and passed Dan the paper. It was headed: Patient Agreement to Treatment. Words flashed before Dan’s eyes. Statement of health professional: I have explained the procedure to the patient along with the aftercare provided, in particular I have explained the intended be
nefits . . . I have discussed the benefits and risks . . . It was signed by Dr Stuart Winter.

  Dan knew Stuart. He’d been his psychiatrist in hospital but he couldn’t remember signing this document with him.

  Dan turned to the next page. Statement of patient: I agree to the procedure and aftercare described on this form. I have been told about available alternative treatments . . . His signature was at the bottom. It was unmistakable and his stomach turned over when he saw it had the extra, almost unnoticeable pressure at the bottom of the t in Forrester, which he’d perfected over the years so he could tell in an instant whether his signature was genuine.

  Dan scratched his throat, using the casual gesture to cover how disturbed he felt. ‘OK. So I agreed to the treatment.’

  ‘It probably saved your sanity.’

  ‘Did my wife know?’

  Orvis shook his head slightly. ‘I don’t know. I’ve never met her or spoken to her.’

  ‘What about Dr Winter?’

  Again, Orvis shook his head. ‘I never spoke to him either.’

  ‘Is that usual?’

  ‘Normally when a patient is referred to me I like to discuss their case history, what treatment they’ve already undertaken, but this time . . .’ He paused as he crossed the room to take back the consent form. ‘I was refused.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I wasn’t given a reason.’

  Dan frowned. ‘Why did you take me on?’

  ‘Because I’m a psychiatrist.’ Orvis tucked the form back into the file. ‘Your case epitomised everything that fascinated me about the field. Psychology, social science, medicine, neuroscience. As well as that, I truly hoped to help return you to a satisfying and fulfilling life.’

  ‘You thought of me as a lab rat.’

  ‘Absolutely not.’ Orvis looked offended.

  ‘Was it legal?’ Dan asked. ‘I mean the drug as well as the treatment.’

  ‘It’s in the research phase but yes, your treatment and the use of the drug on you was entirely legal.’

  ‘Do you know what my job was before I was given the drug?’

  ‘You were a civil servant. In Immigration.’ He went on to say nothing that Dan hadn’t heard before.