Forgotten: a truly gripping psychological thriller

by Heleyne Hammersley

  The woman who’d been next to me on the bus joined me in the cable car and announced her intention to walk along the wall back to the car park. I had no idea that this was possible (poor research) but I was keen when she suggested we walk together. I just hoped that she wouldn’t want to talk about football. As it turned out she didn’t want to talk much at all. Her name was Fran and she was from Edinburgh. She’d travelled up from Hong Kong and was due to fly to Australia at the end of the week. I was grateful that she didn’t ask me much beyond my first impressions of China. My experience with the football fan amused her and she related something similar that had happened to her at the Summer Palace. Apparently a young male student had sat next to her for a chat and ended up asking her if she thought Michelle Obama was beautiful. When Fran didn’t know how to reply he launched into his theory about the ‘murder’ of Princess Diana. She had me in hysterics as she mimicked his earnest expression and his half-baked theory about ‘your Queen’.

  It was surprisingly pleasant to have company, especially when we were hassled by the most persistent hawkers I could ever imagine. They followed us for about a mile, two young men trying to sell us postcards. I think, if I’d been on my own I would have bought some just to get rid of them (or, more likely, I’d have turned round and headed back to the safety of the bus) but Fran advised me to keep walking and just ignore them. It meant not stopping for a rest for the first half hour but it was worth it when one of them finally spat copiously and turned back. The relief made me feel almost giddy. Finally I could say things like ‘Wow look at that’ and not have to keep a constant watch over my shoulder in case we were about to be mugged. Actually, I said a lot of ‘wows’. The landscape looked like something that belonged at the edge of a desert, with sparse patches of greenery and a shimmering heat haze. The wall itself was incredibly steep in places and quite hair-raising as we were walking down hill all the time. At one point it simply dropped out of view at a crazy angle and the brickwork became a series of very narrow steps. And they used to ride horses over this?

  Fran seemed to have very little difficulty with the terrain and I got the idea from her slim frame and her tan that she was ‘outdoorsy’. However, I found it hard to keep my footing at times and I managed to stumble over some loose rock just as we left the wall, nearly falling headfirst down a gritty slope which led towards a deep ravine. Fran grabbed my wrist and hauled me back to something resembling normal balance but, as I swung round to face her, I was suddenly a split second away from yelling ‘Get your fucking hands off me!’ I suppose some of it was the residual tension from earlier when we were followed; but also I just wasn’t prepared to be grabbed, even though I was falling. I needed a moment to calm myself and in that time I could see in Fran’s eyes that she’d read the fear on my face. Did she realise that my anxiety wasn’t simply a result of my stumble? I can’t believe my reactions sometimes when people are only trying to help. I feel like my personal space is so sacred that I’d defend it with my teeth and nails if I had to. God, I hate feeling like a crazy person! I hate the fact that my moods can change in a heartbeat, and I hate the fact that I allowed myself to become this way. I think I got away with it, but Fran didn’t say much to me as we walked back down to the car park or on the ride back to Beijing.

  I hate this. I’m thousands of miles away from my past but something so simple can show me how fucked up I’ve become. I can only hope that, as my confidence improves so will my faith in human nature. I don’t want to find myself hurling punches or abuse at some kind Samaritan who only wants to help.

  I bought my first beer tonight. I felt a bit guilty about it but I felt quite unsettled when I got back to the hotel and I needed something to help me sleep. My excuse to myself was that I’ve got a long train journey tomorrow night and I don’t want to be exhausted before I set off.

  IV

  Kai was just finishing her breakfast of eggs and toast when Ekachai appeared looking pleased with himself. She mopped up the last mouthful of runny scrambled egg with a piece of underdone toast and watched the doctor complete his routine. As he checked the charts hooked over the rail on the bottom of her bed he was unable to smother a smug smile that told her that he wasn’t really reading the information, he was just making himself look busy.

  ‘It looks like good news,’ she teased.

  He looked up and his smile broadened. ‘I think so. I managed to contact this man, Mark, yesterday and he says he will come later if you are wishing to see him.’

  Gently hooking the clipboard back on to the end of the bed, he settled in the chair next to the bathroom door as though he were a valued guest settling down for an after-dinner chat. He steepled his fingers together underneath his chin and studied her expression.

  ‘Nothing has changed?’

  She shook her head and dabbed her lips with a paper napkin. ‘I haven’t had some sort of revelation in my sleep, if that’s what you mean. I’ve had time to think though and it’s probably a good idea to start moving forward. I don’t know when or if I’m going to remember who I am and the diary’s not helping. It’s more confusing than anything. There are hints about a past before the trip but nothing concrete.’ Kai thought about mentioning what she’d discovered so far, the hints of fear and violence and the feeling that travelling had been some form of escape, but she didn’t want Ekachai to worry any more than necessary about her state of mind. Instead she smiled up at him. ‘So, for now, I’m in Chiang Mai, I’ve got a new man to meet and, as I’m physically well, I want your permission to get out of here, at least for a few hours.’

  ‘Today? With this man?’ He looked doubtful, which was what she’d expected.

  ‘Not necessarily today but at least some time in the next few days. I need something to look forward to. I’m sick of lying on this bed or sitting on that chair not knowing what the next day will bring, if anything. I need a change of scenery. Who knows, it might even help.’ She felt a bit guilty using her recovery as an excuse but she knew that if she didn’t have some other stimulation then amnesia wasn’t going to be the only problem with her mind. She had to get him to agree somehow.

  Ekachai still looked sceptical and then his expression brightened and he leaned forward eagerly.

  ‘Perhaps we can come to an agreement. I have a colleague who may be able to help you but I’m not sure you will agree.’

  ‘Why not?’ she demanded, suspicious.

  ‘My colleague specialises in treating people who are troubled in their mind.’

  ‘“Troubled”: is that what you call it? I’d call it seriously disturbed. Exactly what do you think is wrong with me?’

  Ekachai walked over to the window and busied himself with a blind which needed no adjustment. Kai couldn’t work out if he was hiding his lack of knowledge or just delaying telling her the truth. His plain white back told her nothing. Kai felt the familiar fluttering fingers of panic high up in her chest. Maybe it was something serious. Finally, the doctor turned and smiled.

  ‘To be honest, I am not sure,’ he admitted, tucking his hands into his trouser pockets. ‘The tests have shown that there is no physical reason for your memory loss. The injuries you have are mostly superficial. There was no swelling or inflammation on your brain. You have been conscious for nearly one week now and, if it were not for the amnesia, there would be no reason for you to stay here.’ He was talking like a doctor, hiding behind the security of jargon.

  ‘But?’ prompted Kai.

  ‘But, there may be other reasons for your amnesia.’

  ‘Such as?’

  He sat on the edge of the bed, next to her, and studied his hands. Taking a deep breath, he faced Kai and said, ‘If there is no physiological cause for your amnesia then we have to explore the possibility that your problem is in your mind.’

  ‘So I am crazy?’

  ‘Not crazy, no, but there is something that will not allow you to remember your past.’

  ‘Such as?’ Kai snapped. ‘I’m not put
ting this on, you know. I’m not hiding anything from you.’

  ‘I know.’ Ekachai’s eyes were sympathetic. ‘Perhaps you are hiding from yourself. Sometimes, after a trauma, the brain shuts down, tries to forget the trauma and, in doing so, it forgets other things.’

  Kai though about this for a minute. ‘And this is a recognised medical phenomenon?’

  ‘Certainly. It is called dissociative amnesia.’

  Dissociative amnesia. It had a name. If it had a name it might have a cure. Hope surged through Kai making her feel light-headed with relief. She had a real illness, a recognised problem. And Ekachai knew someone who could help her.

  ‘So how is it treated, this dissociative amnesia?’

  ‘Mostly through hypnotherapy. And talking, exploring your feelings and thoughts.’

  ‘So this colleague of yours is a shrink?’ Kai sighed, her emotions plummeting again.

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘A psychiatrist.’

  ‘I think therapist is a more usual term.’

  A shrink. Someone to talk to, somebody who would judge her, analyse her, pronounce upon her sanity. And hypnosis?

  ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable.’

  Ekachai shrugged. ‘I can understand but I need to feel like you are making progress, that we have a plan, before I will be comfortable allowing you to leave.

  Kai couldn’t believe she was being blackmailed by her own doctor. She covered her unease with the best grin she could manage. ‘If it gets me out of here, I’ll give it a go. Deal?’

  ‘Thank you,’ he smiled getting up and crossing the room to the door. ‘I hope this will help. Now, you must prepare for your visitor.’

  She spent the rest of the morning lounging on her bed and flicking through an English language magazine that one of the nurses had found for her. One woman seemed to have taken a particular interest in her and was keen to perform any small kindness. Kai smiled as she remembered the nurse’s look of glee as she’d presented the magazine with a flourish. It was three months out of date and quite battered but it was a welcome diversion from the diary which had become more mundane after the hints of some dark past. She’d given the journal a try before breakfast but, after the Great Wall it became quite a dull description of a train journey and a different town and she wasn’t in the mood for someone else’s self-indulgent descriptions of their experiences, even if the someone else was herself in a previous life. That’s what it felt like in a way, like reading about an earlier incarnation. She was interested because she might be able to unlock her memory with the help of the journal but she became exasperated with the author when she didn’t offer any useful information. She wanted to know about what had happened before the trip. Had she been running away? Was there some sort of destructive relationship waiting for her when she finally regained her memory? What had she been afraid of? The diary offered no immediate answers to her questions and she couldn’t face the exhausting task of wading through the tiny writing in the hope of finding a clue. At least the magazine was neutral and uncomplicated.

  ***

  Her visitor arrived unannounced. She looked up, sensing that somebody was nearby and found him leaning against the door jamb studying her as she read. He grinned a little sheepishly as she met his scrutiny with an angry glare and stood up straight as if he was going to enter the room. He had that wary look that she sometimes saw in Ekachai’s eyes – like someone dealing with a half-trained dog, one that might behave nicely or might give a vicious bite.

  ‘It’s polite to knock,’ she said coldly.

  He tapped on the wall next to the door. He was still smiling, but now he didn’t look so sure of himself. Kai contemplated making him squirm a little longer but she didn’t really want to risk frightening away the first new face she’d seen in days.

  ‘Okay, come in,’ she sighed.

  He stood just inside the room looking around uncertainly. She could tell that he couldn’t work out if it would be all right for him to sit down or if he should wait until he was asked.

  ‘Take a seat,’ she said, indicating the chair that Ekachai had occupied earlier. Even to herself her voice sounded unfriendly and unwelcoming. ‘So, you must be Mark,’ she managed with a faint smile, still feeling like a difficult employer conducting an interview. Mark’s own smile had faded and his face was wary as he nodded. Clearly the doctor hadn’t warned him about the patient’s more difficult side. ‘And you live in Chiang Mai.’

  He nodded again, still studying her and then corrected himself. ‘No, sorry,’ he said, clearly flustered by her abruptness. ‘I’ve been living and teaching in Bangkok for the last six months, but now I’m using my ill-gotten gains to travel around and see a bit more of the country.’

  His voice, which shocked her into the first full grin that she could remember, was rich and warm and made her think he probably spent a lot of time in the sun and fresh air. This was supported by his tan and the bleached streaks in his untidy blond hair. Even his pale blue eyes had a sun-faded look. He didn’t look like a teacher. He looked a bit like a stockbroker turned beach-bum. He was wearing a faded T-shirt, with darker patches lining the underarms and sleeves, as if it had been dried too many times in the direct sun, and the sort of trousers that convert into shorts with a nifty bit of unzipping. But he was clean shaven and his hair looked like an expensive cut was growing out badly. His hands could have belonged to a teacher, though. They were square and brown, each nail neatly cut and shaped like the head of a spade. She just knew that he would use them to gesture when he became animated. Kai suddenly grew aware that she was studying him and tried again to make small talk. ‘You came to see me when I was in– when I was unconscious.’ It was a statement rather than a question but he responded with an explanation.

  ‘I thought you were someone else. I worked with an Aussie girl for a while, in Bangkok, and, when she left, she was heading up this way. The description of you sounded a lot like her.’

  ‘But I’m not?’ This time there was a question but he didn’t seem surprised. Perhaps Ekachai had briefed him.

  ‘No. Sorry. I wanted to see you again because the hospital people thought you were English and I wondered if talking about home would help you to remember, you know, your past.’ His expression was earnest, a faint frown crinkling the brown skin at the corners of his eyes into dark wrinkles.

  She nodded. ‘That’s very kind of you. I’m not sure I’ll be very good company though. I’ve been cooped up in here for God knows how long, climbing the walls and slowly going out of what little mind I have left. I have no idea where “home” is. If you can do anything about that you ought to apply for Ekachai’s job.’

  He laughed and Kai felt some of her earlier tension dissipating with the sound. She found herself smiling naturally and the feeling was refreshing, exciting. ‘You know, you’ll have to do most of the talking. I’m afraid all this is going to be a bit one-sided. I can’t tell you anything about myself yet. I’d love to say I was playing hard-to-get but, well, you know.’

  ‘It’s no problem,’ he said. ‘Teachers all love the sound of their own voice. It’s a well-known fact. I can talk for hours – all you have to do is try to stay awake.’

  ‘I can’t promise anything. The doctor says I’ve not to tire myself out. How he thinks I might do that is beyond me: I’m barely allowed to move off this bed. Probably by turning the pages of my magazine too quickly.’

  ‘Or thinking too much,’ Mark suggested, suddenly serious.

  ‘Maybe,’ she agreed. ‘Anyway. Tell me something about yourself. Where are you from?’

  He settled back in the chair with his hands laced across his stomach and his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles almost as though he was relishing the attention, Kai thought.

  ‘I’m from London originally but my parents, or rather my father, didn’t like to settle for too long in one place so I’ve moved around the UK quite a bit. I went
to university in York and then went back to London for a few years doing computer work.’

  ‘But you said you were a teacher,’ Kai interrupted.

  ‘Ah, that comes later.’ He leaned forward as though about to share a secret with her. ‘I got bored with computers. The money was good but the lifestyle was awful: too much pressure, way too stressful. Anyway, I started working part time and spent the rest of the week doing a course, training to teach English as a foreign language.’

  He looked up at her, his eyes slightly closed as though memory was an effort for him too.

  ‘And then I quit my job completely and decided to teach English abroad. I spent two years in Japan and now Thailand. I think I inherited my dad’s itchy feet. I like seeing different places. I suppose I like being away from home and writing postcards while sitting in the sun. Especially at this time of year.’

  ‘If you’ve moved around a lot you probably recognise quite a lot of accents. Can you tell where I’m from?’ Kai asked suddenly.

  ‘You’ve not got a very distinctive accent. It sounds northern but you might have travelled around a fair bit, like me. How about I try naming a few places?’

  She nodded, kneeling forward on the bed so she could concentrate on his words.

  ‘Okay, well, York didn’t ring any bells?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘How about Manchester?’

  Nothing.

  ‘Leeds?’

  Nothing.

  ‘Nottingham? Bradford? Leicester?’ Each one said slowly and clearly like an incantation to help her to remember.

  Kai threw herself back on to her pillow and put one arm across her eyes trying to feel each word, trying to find some familiar resonance. They all sounded familiar but none leapt out at her like she expected her home to. Gradually even the rhythms of Mark’s voice sounded like part of the past that she was trying to regain.