Forgotten: a truly gripping psychological thriller

by Heleyne Hammersley

  She hauled herself up into a sitting position and studied his face. His expression was kind and he didn’t seem overly worried about the state of her physical health; she knew it was her state of mind that bothered him and she’d probably just given him more cause for concern.

  ‘What is the problem with this diary?’ he asked, his eyes flicking to the book as though it might suddenly rear up and add to Kai’s accusations.

  ‘It makes no sense. I don’t understand what’s going on here.’ Her voice broke on ‘here’ and she felt traitor tears battering the defences behind her eyes.

  Ekachai picked up the diary, allowing it to fall open across one of his palms, scanning the page he’d found. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Read it,’ Kai snapped. ‘Read the first two pages.’

  He thumbed quickly to the front of the book and slowly scanned the pages keeping his eyes focussed on the words. Kai watched as his eyes slowly crossed each line then returned to the margin. It took him a few minutes and Kai suspected her close scrutiny made him read more slowly to make sure he missed nothing.

  Eventually he raised his eyes to hers and frowned. ‘I have told you that I do not read English well. I am not sure what is worrying you. You have been in hospital before? Is that why you feel confused?’

  Kai sighed, ‘I suppose so. I didn’t get it at first. It felt like she– I– was writing about now, this hospital– I just–’

  ‘But that is impossible,’ Ekachai interrupted. ‘You could not have known about this hospital. The book clearly refers to some past incident.’

  ‘Do you think so?’ Kai asked, examining his face for any signs that he might be lying to her or laughing at her.

  ‘I think so. I think you just panicked because the situation you are in is so strange.’

  It was logical. The diary couldn’t refer to this place. She was just confused by the whole situation. She’d been driving herself crazy thinking about what it all meant and now the meaning was so obvious. She’d been in hospital before. Where and why might be buried in the diary somewhere. It was in the past: it wasn’t now, it wasn’t here.

  ‘I’m sorry the diary didn’t help,’ Ekachai said, placing the book gently on the bed and stuffing his hands into the pockets of his spotless white coat as he leaned back in the chair.

  ‘It just confused me. I’ll give it another try later but it gives me a headache if I read for too long. If this is mine then I’ve been to China, had a great time in Beijing and it looks like I’m heading for Xi’an. It’s funny, I know what China means, and Beijing seems right as the capital. I’m not sure where Xi’an is though. I suppose I’ll find out if I keep reading.’

  ‘Now you’re awake and I have spoken to you quite a lot it sounds like you might be from England. Does that seem likely? Your diary starts in London and your accent does not sound like any American or Australian I have spoken to.’

  She shrugged. ‘It feels right. England? London? They both sound familiar but I’m not completely sure that they have any connection with my life. At the moment when I try to remember anything I just feel a sense of panic because there’s nothing there, so I rush back to the present. That’s why I was so frightened when I thought that this might really be the past. It’s almost like I want to be here, now, because it’s all that feels real. Does that make any sense? Do other people with amnesia feel like this?’

  Ekachai raised his eyebrows in sympathy. ‘Unfortunately I have little experience with this kind of illness. I only know that in most cases it is temporary. I hope, in your case, it will not last too long – I also would like to know who you are.’

  He stood up as though he was about to leave but then seemed to change his mind. ‘Perhaps now you are ready to see this,’ he said, reaching into the pocket of the striped shirt that he was wearing under his white coat. ‘Perhaps it will help to convince you that this is very much the present.’

  Kai expected some kind of medical apparatus, a thermometer or a watch, so she was surprised when he unfolded a piece of paper and presented it to her. It was a cutting from a newspaper, written in English, from the top of a page so she could see that the date was early December. She’d already ascertained today’s date from one of the nurses so she knew that the paper was only about ten days old. Already its colour was turning creamy and some of the creases were threatening to become tears. She handled it carefully, unwilling to cause any damage.

  Woman found in Mysterious Circumstances

  Doctors at San Kamphaeng Hospital in Chiang Mai are puzzled by the identity of a woman who was admitted on Wednesday. She was discovered unconscious and suffering from head injuries, cuts and a high fever at the base of a cliff near Mae La-Na by a local villager. Police have been unable to discover the identity of the woman as she had no documentation among her possessions. The mystery woman has been unconscious since she was found despite the best efforts of doctors to revive her. She is described as being of medium height, blonde hair, light brown eyes and possibly European or American. She was wearing light green trousers and a white T-shirt when she was brought to the hospital.

  If anyone has any information regarding this woman please contact Chiang Mai police on 774-2257.

  At first she couldn’t really comprehend that the article was about her, even though Ekachai had already told her the circumstances under which she’d been found. This was too concrete, too factual; it felt like reading her own obituary. How could she be a story in a newspaper, an accident statistic? This shouldn’t be happening. She was a real person with a real life, somewhere. She passed the scrap of paper back to the doctor, unable to conceal the trembling in her hands and took a deep, ragged breath.

  ‘How did I get there?’

  Ekachai shrugged. ‘No one knows.’

  Kai just stared at the doctor, forcing him to continue, to offer an explanation.

  ‘It seems likely that you fell while you were trekking.’

  ‘Likely – that’s hardly conclusive. Maybe I was pushed, somebody mugged me.’

  Again Ekachai shrugged.

  ‘Or maybe I fucking jumped,’ she whispered, turning away from the doctor’s concerned face.

  ‘The police have advertised. They have circulated your description. They have asked for witnesses,’ he sounded desperate to give Kai some grain of hope. ‘They wanted to take a photograph but I refused to allow it until you were able to give permission.’

  She turned back to look at him. ‘I take it no-one has come forward?’

  Ekachai shook his head and lowered his eyes.

  ‘No-one who knows anything of importance. We had one visitor who thought he knew you but, sadly, when he saw you he realised that he was mistaken.’

  ‘He saw me? You mean you let people in here to have a good gawp?’

  ‘I’m sorry, a good…?’

  ‘You let people come in here and look at me while I was unconscious. Jesus!’

  He shook his head and held his hands out to her in a what was I supposed to do? gesture. ‘I’m sorry but we needed to do anything possible to discover your identity. There was only one man; he came in under my supervision and, when he realised that he was mistaken, he left.’

  As he explained she studied the lines on his palms. They were deeply carved as though his life and destiny were more important than those of others. She wondered if all doctors had hands like that; was it a sign of their vocation?

  ‘So who was he?’ she demanded.

  ‘A teacher from England. He’d been working here in Thailand and thought he recognised you from your description. Sadly, he was mistaken. However, he has called on the telephone several times to find out whether you are awake. He said he would like to see you when you regained consciousness. Perhaps a visitor would be a good idea. He might be able to help you remember your home as he is an Englishman. I have a telephone number. Perhaps you would like me to contact him on your behalf.’

  She thought for a minute. How would it
be to get to know a complete stranger when she had nothing of herself to offer in return? At the moment, her life was made up of visits from Ekachai and various other hospital staff, most of whom couldn’t speak English. It was easy to relate to them within the hospital situation, but an outsider… She was convinced it would be awkward, but anything had to be better than staring at the grey walls of her room. She’d even been tempted to ask if she could be put in a ward with other patients – anything to break the monotony and emptiness – but she didn’t feel in any position to make any requests or demands. Meeting a stranger wouldn’t be too awful because everyone was a stranger; she was even a stranger to herself. She clenched her fists in front of her face and nibbled her thumb nails, a hundred responses flickering in out of her consciousness like fish in a cramped pool.

  ‘Okay,’ she decided. ‘Why not? I could do with some different company.’

  Ekachai smiled and she could see that he’d been wanting her to agree. ‘So my visits are not company enough?’ he teased.

  She smiled back at him, the movement of her muscles feeling unfamiliar and awkward.

  ‘Ah, now you can smile at me. It is a change from all this sighing and frowning. I’ll call this Mark and ask him to come tomorrow. How is that?’

  ‘Whatever. I mean, whenever he can make it. No hurry.’ She could hear herself waffling as she became aware of a growing excitement. A new face, someone from outside. The potential visit made her feel different somehow, more alive, more relevant.

  Ekachai left with a smile.

  Kai hauled herself from the bed and wobbled to her private bathroom, one of the boundaries of her world. A room within a room. The mirror confirmed what she knew inside, that the change wasn’t outwardly visible. Her hair still looked greasy and uncared for and it was difficult to determine its natural colour. She decided she would make a small request for some decent shampoo to improve its condition because she’d run out and was using hand soap which just seemed to dry it out for a day or so. There was an angry cut above her partially closed left eye, its clean edges held together by a row of neat stitches. It was surrounded by the rainbow of a fading bruise which disappeared under her hair, vivid greens and yellows clearly visible in the unnatural glare of the fluorescent light. Her other eye was bright and clear, no sign of trauma in the contrast between the white and the pale brown of the iris but no sign of animation either. Her good eye looked as dead as her bruised one. Her mouth was a fixed line, thin and unfriendly. She tried the smile that she’d shown Ekachai – it made no attempt to conspire with her eyes, to make her look genuinely pleased or happy. Running the tap, she bent and splashed her face with lukewarm water as though she could wash away what she’d seen in the mirror.

  ‘Kai,’ she whispered to her reflection before returning to the sanctuary of her bed and digging out the journal. She felt slightly more relaxed and ready to learn a little more about herself. If she was going to have a visitor it would be useful to have some experiences to talk about that didn’t involve this room.

  After a day of rather tedious sounding jobs around Beijing she was struck by a humorous entry and found herself drawn back into the world of another self, another Kai, who wasn’t Kai at all.

  September 14th – Beijing

  Back on the tourist trail (or is that trial?) today. I decided to head for the south of the city to visit the Temple of Heaven which is ‘the most perfect example of Ming architecture’ according to my guidebook. I contemplated taking a taxi but it seemed like a bit of a cop out. There’s something about being in a car that separates you from the place you are in. It’s sanitised and safe and easy; there’s something not quite real about it. I’d expected to want something safe and easy but I actually feel surprisingly confident today. There’s a sense of peace somewhere within me which makes me certain that this trip was the right thing to do. Sadly, I couldn’t work out the bus routes from my map so I had to walk.

  The heat seems to be getting more intense which is a bit of a surprise as we’re heading into autumn. It makes walking anywhere quite a slow process. I suppose it’s no bad thing to be slowed down though. Life at home is all about getting things done and getting to places quickly so as not to waste time. Now I’ve got all the time in the world I don’t mind wasting a bit. (If walking the streets of Beijing is a waste.) After all, it’s my time. It’s a good feeling after three years of wondering if I had any rights at all to realise that I am in control of my own life and what I choose to do with it is entirely in my own hands. When I think about this time I’m taking to get my head back together I picture an hourglass with the sand flowing through it at a soothing rate and the hands holding the hourglass are mine. God, I’m getting carried away. I promised myself I wouldn’t use this journal to spout purple prose in some pretentious travel-writing manner.

  Anyway, back to the narrative! I walked straight into the baking hot sun for nearly an hour before reaching the outer wall surrounding the grounds of the temple. As luck would have it I’d hit the boundary at a point between two of the four entrances and had to walk for another fifteen minutes in one of the overcrowded bicycle lanes before I reached a gate. It turned out to be worth the walk though as it was a really peaceful spot in one of the busiest parts of the city. The park surrounding the Temple of Heaven had plenty of places to sit in the shade and watch this small part of the world go by. I saw my first old man in a Mao suit sitting on a bench with his Little Red Book in the breast pocket of his jacket. He seemed to be dozing judging by the unattractive ribbon of drool sparkling on his chin. I found myself intensely curious about him and what he thought about modern China but sadly there was no way I could speak to him – the chances of him knowing English were very slim and there’s no way I could attempt an opening gambit such as ‘So what did you do during the Cultural Revolution?’ in anything resembling Mandarin so I contented myself with staring and imagining.

  In a strangely parallel situation I was accosted later while I was relaxing on a park bench. Two young women wanted to practise their English on me so we had a rather surreal conversation. One did all the talking while the other one seemed to be studying the way I was dressed and the colour of my skin and hair. I got the feeling that she wanted to touch me to see if I felt any different from her. The other one wanted to know my star sign. I told her Pisces.

  ‘Is that fishes?’

  ‘It is,’ I tried to keep my answers short and simple.

  ‘I am Sagittarius the archer,’ she informed me, leaving me at a loss as to what to say next. She seemed to share my discomfort for a few seconds before asking me brightly, ‘Do you like football? I like English football. Wayne Rooney. Do you know him?’

  Do I know Wayne Rooney? Good question. Yes, I know Wayne Rooney, and Ashley Cole and all the others that I was made to watch in silence so I would ‘understand’. The trouble was that I didn’t want to understand. So, of course I know Wayne Rooney. His was one of the names that made up the soundtrack to my suppression. Not that the girl wanted to know any of this, so I simply tried, ‘Yes, David Beckham was good too.’

  ‘David Beckham, very good football player.’

  And that was it. We all smiled at each other and the two girls walked away. What a strange world we live in where the lingua franca is football, a language I never want to be made to learn. Even stranger is the fact that I’ve been haunted by Beckham today. This evening I had trouble with the toilet. It wouldn’t flush, so I decided to assert my independence and have a look myself rather than calling reception. (How do you say ‘the bog’s broken’ in Mandarin?) Staring up at me was none other than David Beckham. The cistern contained an ancient soft drink bottle full of water, presumably to conserve water during the hot season, and Becks was plastered all over the label. I think I ought to write to Reader’s Digest about this one when I get home.

  I’m feeling a lot more settled today. I have all the things I need quite close by, my room is comfortable and Beijing is a fascinating city. More than
ever this feels like the right thing to be doing, as if I’m going to be a stronger, more self-reliant person when I get home. I like being on my own and discovering things for myself and I’m sure it’s doing wonders for my confidence. I must try to think of interesting facts about football for the next time someone wants to make conversation.

  September 15th Beijing

  I went to see the Great Wall of China today. Ha! It’s not often you get to write that in your diary. I read in my guidebook that one of the local hotels runs trips to a quiet part of the wall so I rang them last night and managed to book a seat.

  I had to get myself to the hotel for 8.00 this morning so I went against my resolution of yesterday and took a taxi. The hotel seems to cater for a mainly western clientele and I was surprised to find this a bit disconcerting. I think my main worry was that the other people on the trip would be more experienced travellers than me and that I would end up making a fool of myself. I certainly felt uncomfortable when we set off, but my fears weren’t realised because everyone fell asleep before we’d even cleared the suburbs of Beijing. At one point I thought the woman next to me was going to snuggle up on my shoulder she was so soundly gone. It was quite eerie to travel on a bus with ten or twelve other people who were all unconscious, but it was also liberating, because I was able to study them without seeming rude. It didn’t take me long to realise that they weren’t as interesting as the countryside.

  It took about two hours to get my first glimpse of anything resembling hills and another hour before I saw the wall. I couldn’t get over the impossibility of the thing. It follows all the highest, steepest ridges of the landscape, defining the topography and defying gravity and common sense. It totally dominates the scenery. As a show of might it was seriously impressive and as a defensive barrier it must have been pretty daunting. How the hell could anyone get anywhere near it without being spotted and leapt on from a great height? I couldn’t wait to get a closer look.