by Karen Klyne
Reece zipped the case up. “I’m sorry. I can’t remember the way to Gemma’s room.”
“Don’t worry. It’s a bit like a maze. Follow me.”
Once they’d got through the double doors, she took in the surroundings. It was a modern hospital, and all the walls were bright, if plain. There were pictures hanging on the walls, and it could almost be mistaken for a private rehabilitation clinic. She’d much prefer to think of it like that, and it was a better impression than she’d had the first time there. Much better than psychiatric hospital, mental hospital, mental health unit, or worse still…asylum. Now she felt sick. How must Gemma be feeling? She was sure she’d find out…from both barrels.
They crossed through a lounge and a dozen or so people sat watching the TV or chatting amongst themselves. They were all quite young. That would be good for Gemma. They all looked up and stared as they passed through.
“This is the communal lounge.” Erin pointed in another direction. “There’s a games room over there. You know, table tennis, magnetic darts, and loads of board games. Then there’s a café run by volunteers. When you visit, you can sit and have a coffee together. Or you can stay in Gemma’s room or visit the lounge. The gardens are nice too. Lots of benches, trees, and beautiful flowers. There’s something blooming at all times of the year. A bit of colour always helps.”
Reece smiled. If she was trying to sell it to her, she wasn’t in the market for buying. They passed through another set of double doors and headed down a long corridor.
“The women’s rooms are here, and the men’s rooms are on the other side of the building. The rooms are mostly single or for two.” She stopped at a door and opened it. “This is the washroom, and there are ten shower cubicles. There’s another identical one at the end of the corridor. We try to make it as personable as we can. A sort of home from home.”
Well, it’s not working. Reece didn’t feel at home, and she was certain Gemma wouldn’t either. You didn’t shower with ten other people at home. Although it was bright and clean, there was no denying the essence of underlying tension, like smothered chaos waiting to take a breath. They came to a halt outside her door. It already had her name on it and a picture underneath.
Erin knocked at the door, which was already half open. “Hi, Gemma. You have a visitor.”
Gemma didn’t look up. She was sitting on the bed looking forlorn. She had no socks on which seemed odd because she’d always suffered with cold feet. Reece guessed she’d feel abandoned too if the roles were reversed. As hospital rooms went, it was reasonably pleasant. Compact but not cramped. There was a single bed, an easy chair, a table, a set of drawers, and a small built in wardrobe. The window overlooked the gardens though she doubted if Gemma could give a damn right now.
Erin left them after giving Reece a sympathetic smile.
Reece put the case on the end of the bed. “I’ve brought an assortment of things. Mattie and Callum helped me pick them out.”
“Terrific.”
“Shall I put them away for you?”
“Whatever.”
Reece hung the clothes in the wardrobe and put the shoes on the bottom. Then she went over to the set of drawers and put the pyjamas in the bottom drawer, and all the toiletries in the top drawer. She told Gemma what she’d done, but she didn’t even bother looking up. She placed the Kindle on the table. “If you want more books, there’s Wi-Fi in the lounge.” Reece zipped the case up and put it by the door. “Do you want to grab a coffee or something? Apparently, there’s a café somewhere around here.”
“No.” Gemma looked up and stared at her. “For your information, I am not staying here. I just have to figure out how to end this nightmare and get my life back.”
Reece tightened her lips. There wasn’t anything to say that hadn’t been said, at least not about Gemma’s condition. “Okay. I’d better get back to Mattie and Callum. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
Gemma said nothing, just turned away and stared at her bare feet.
Reece stood. “Bye, Gemma.” This time, she didn’t attempt to kiss her. She didn’t really want to. Deep down, she didn’t want Gemma back. The early version, yes. But that was impossible. Now they’d have no choice but to figure out how to move on, whichever direction that took them.
Chapter Four
Gemma walked quickly across the beach. When the steps that led to the promenade came into view, she broke into a run. She tore up the steps like a mad woman and half expected someone to grab her by her hood and drag her back. She reached the top and slowed her pace. Behind her was the thick mist the old woman had described, along with the fading form of the woman she’d forced the bag on. It was a weird sensation, walking through the haze, a sort of floaty feeling. Then it cleared when she left the promenade, and she heard a sliding door close firmly behind her, though when she looked, there was nothing there.
She took deep breaths until her rapid heartbeat returned to normal. She strolled along the walkway, careful not to attract too much attention from passers-by. Look nonchalant. Nonchalant? That was the last thing she felt. She was wound up like a ball of knitting wool. The dog nudged her hand. Christ, she’d forgotten about him. What was his name? Jasper. She guessed she was stuck with him. He was part of her new life, but that was okay. She’d always wanted a dog. So far, everything had gone according to plan. Well, it wasn’t her plan, it was that old woman’s plan. But it was on schedule…she hoped.
She wafted her face with her hand as beads of sweat slid down her temples. She pulled her hood off and unzipped her jacket. She let out a deep sigh and rubbed the back of her neck. All she’d dreamed about for years was getting away and starting a new life. She guessed that was exactly what she was doing. Problem was, she had no idea what new life she was heading for. She could see it now; five kids and a husband that stank of fish and foot odour. For all she knew, she’d made a pact with the devil. No, she didn’t think it was that. But she had made a deal of sorts and not knowing what lay ahead gave her a sort of giddy feeling.
She knew where she was going, and so did the dog. They arrived at the house. It looked eerily similar to the house she’d left, but inside would be a big surprise. Good or bad, this was her new life.
She slowly opened the door. The dog bounded in, and she followed him. He went straight into the kitchen and headed for his water bowl. He lapped at it like it was going out of fashion. She looked around the kitchen. Much the same, but there were differences, and it was a hell of a lot cleaner and more organised than the one she’d left. And it was quiet, so wonderfully quiet.
“Alex. Is that you?”
The voice came from upstairs. She presumed she was Alex. Good start; she liked that name. “Yes, it’s me,” she shouted back.
She walked to the bottom of the stairs. There was a stairlift and a wheelchair. That was a clue. Someone here had either a long-term sickness or was disabled. She slowly climbed the stairs, walked along the corridor, and came to an open door.
The older woman propped up in bed smiled. “There you are. Laurel phoned. She’s running late.”
“Oh. Sorry about that,” she said as she rubbed her head. If the woman who had taken over her life had also gained her memories, it seemed only fair she should have got some too, rather than fumbling through this and trying to look convincing. Then it hit her. This woman looked at her, and there was no hesitation. The old witch’s plan had worked, and she nearly wept with relief.
“Are you all right, Alex? You look awfully pale.”
“Actually, I’m not. I was running up the steps from the beach, and I slipped. I fell and banged my head on the steps. Nearly brained myself.” That would explain her lapses in memory and her need to get information people felt she should already know.
The woman put a hand to her mouth. “Sit down. Try and relax. Laurel will be here soon. She’ll know what to do.”
She reached out a hand, and Gemma took it. The woman squeezed her hand tightly. It was just what she needed. Reassurance
of sorts. The woman’s hand was warm, and it comforted her. She might not have the memories of this life, but she still felt a sense of rightness, a sense of belonging, and that wasn’t something she’d felt in a very, very long time. She looked up and smiled.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”
Who was this woman to her? Coming from where she had, it dawned on her that she could be her partner, her much-older partner. That would serve her right.
There was a knock at the front door, and someone came in.
“It’s only me.” Whoever it was ran up the stairs and into the room. “Morning, Helen, sorry I’m late. Oh, hi, Alex. I phoned your mum to let her know I’d be late.” She peered at Gemma. “Are you okay? You’re white as a polar bear.”
Yes, she did feel a bit dizzy, but it was from anxiety and fear. She wasn’t prepared for all this. She’d never been in a situation where she was totally in the dark, but she wanted this and she’d figure it out. She relayed her story about the bang on the head.
Laurel put her bag down on the floor. “I’d better take you to the doctor. A bang on the head can be serious. You could have a concussion.”
“No. It’s okay. I’m sure I’ll be okay after a rest.” She knew all about concussions. Many moons ago she’d been a health care assistant in a hospital. She’d loved it and even thought about becoming a trained nurse. She hadn’t because she dreaded all those exams, and it would take about three years to qualify. And what for? A load of responsibility, and even then, she’d have to wash bedpans and wipe people’s arses. No, it was too much like hard work, and she didn’t relish the idea of working all those nights either. Ironically, she’d traded in that career for one taking care of kids, which meant responsibility, night shifts, and wiping arses. And she’d been as unhappy doing it as she’d known she would be.
Her mum clasped her hands together. “Don’t be so stubborn, Alex. Do as Laurel says.”
She must remember. From now on she must answer to the name Alex, though she’d probably always think of herself as Gemma.
Laurel dug into her bag and pulled out her mobile. She turned her back to them. “Hi, Trish. I need to arrange an emergency appointment for Alex Gambol. She’s had a nasty bump on the head. Yes, that’s right, it’s 18 Seascape Crescent.” She paused, obviously waiting for Trish to get back to her. “Wonderful. I’ll drive her down as soon as I’ve got a few things sorted. Thanks a lot.” She looked at Gemma. “That’s fixed then.”
“Thanks, Laurel.” That worked out rather well. She’d fake a bit of concussion, and that would give her some leeway if she ballsed up on not remembering something or other. Well, she’d learned one vital thing, the lady in the bed was her mother. It was a relief. She really needed a rest from relationships, and it didn’t look like this was a house full of people. She wondered if there was a father somewhere, too. In a way, she hoped not. One person was enough.
In the meantime, Laurel helped her mum get dressed. She couldn’t do anything because of her suspected head problem so she watched and listened, hoping to find out a few more titbits that would enlighten her.
Her mum shook her head. “Really, Laurel, you shouldn’t be doing this. My carer will be along soon. I put her off until later because I didn’t want to miss out on the physio. It’s more important than a bit of a wash.”
Carer? Physio? What was wrong with her?
“Don’t be silly. She won’t be here for ages. Much better if you’re dressed and downstairs. I bet you’re hungry too?”
Oh, God. Was she supposed to have fed her before her walk on the beach? Gemma froze, wondering if she’d get her first taste of reproach.
She smiled at Gemma. “No, Alex brought me a few healthy biscuits with my tea, so I’m fine.”
“Good. Come on, let’s get you into this wheelchair.” Laurel pushed her to the stairs and her mum manoeuvred herself onto the stairlift. At the bottom, she got into the other chair and wheeled herself into the kitchen.
So, Laurel was the physiotherapist. She’d have to try and wheedle some information from her whilst they were on the way to the doctors. With her memory loss, she could make some excuses and not make a complete arse of herself. She’d have to blag it. She’d had plenty of practice over the years, pretending to be fine when she was actually sliding further into a mental mess.
Her mum fussed with the dog and told them to get on their way.
“Shall I get you some breakfast before we go, Mum?” It wasn’t easy to say, but she’d have to learn.
“Don’t be silly. I’ll help myself to some cereal. I’m used to coping on my own.”
Laurel squeezed her mum’s shoulder. “I’ll wait for Alex and come back later. I’ve had a couple of cancellations, so there’s no problem.”
Her mum took hold of Laurel’s hand. “You’re a little gem. I don’t know what I’d do without you…and Alex, of course.”
That sounded like a bit of an add-on. Perhaps she wasn’t such a great help to her mother. Maybe she had a full-time job. She hoped not. Blagging was one thing, but working in an environment she didn’t know was another matter.
They left, and Laurel opened the car door for her, and she made herself comfortable. She hoped she’d have a car of her own. She hadn’t seen one, but maybe it was in the garage.
Okay, here goes. “So how is Mum?”
Laurel shrugged. “You know how it is with MS. There are good and bad days. It’s bloody annoying, because she was doing really well until that fall. Problem is, as you know, balance and dizzy spells are always going to be an issue. Still, don’t worry, we’re getting her back to her old self. Is she going to stay with you permanently?”
Oh shit. “It depends. I’d like that but—”
“Don’t worry. I’m not pressuring you. I know you have a demanding job.”
She knew it was too good to be true. God, what would happen if she was a brain surgeon, or a scientist or something really skilful? Hell’s teeth. She’d never thought of that. She guessed she’d have to wait and deal with it when the time came. “Ah, we’re here already.” She couldn’t take any more.
They went into the surgery, and Laurel guided her to a seat. “I’ll just go check my diary, and I’ll wait here for you.”
“Who am I seeing?”
“Dr Manvers, your usual doctor.”
“Good.” Was it? She hadn’t got a clue. She glanced around. The surgery was virtually the same as theirs, just different doctors. It was both reassuring and unsettling. Her name flashed up on a TV screen, and she went in search of room seven.
Dr Manvers was male. He was mid-forties with very little hair, but he had a kind face.
“Hi, Alex. Take a seat. How’s your mum?”
“Not too bad, thanks.”
“So, what’s been happening to you? I hear you fell and banged your head.”
Gemma rubbed her head. “Yes. All very stupid. I was rushing. Thing is I feel a bit weird. I have a terrible headache, and my head feels fuzzy.”
“Have you been vomiting?”
“No. I feel a bit queasy though.”
“How’s your coordination?”
“Fine. But I seem to have a bit of memory loss. You know, just random things.”
The doctor shone a torch into her eyes. After, he asked her to follow his finger with her eyes. She put it on a bit but not too much. She didn’t want to end up in hospital when she could be exploring her new life.
“I think you should be okay. If anything changes and you feel worse, phone the emergency services. In the meantime, take paracetamol. And avoid alcohol. Seriously, Alex, don’t hesitate to call me if you have any concerns. I suggest you take it easy, and certainly no work for a while. We don’t want you falling from any ladders, do we?”
Ladders? Was she a window cleaner? Christ, she hated heights. “Thanks, Dr Manvers.” She got up and left his room. She thought about the no alcohol rule. My arse. But then, maybe she wouldn’t need all that stuff now.
Laurel was waiting
outside for her, as promised. “How did it go?”
“Much the same as you said. A bit of concussion, which possibly accounts for my memory problems.”
“Rest. That’s what you need.”
“Absolutely.”
“Hey, Steve’s taking the boys on a fishing trip at the weekend. How do you fancy a catch-up?”
“Sounds good to me.” So, she knew Laurel on a personal level. But where from? Had she worked with her? Did she know her from her childhood? All this thinking was doing her head in. Maybe if she met her at the weekend, she’d find out more about the life she was taking over and do her own type of fishing. “Where shall we meet? What time?”
“Shall we try that new wine bar on the High Street? Say about seven-thirty on Saturday?”
“Perfect. As long as I’ve recovered.”
“Of course. I’ll call you on Friday night and confirm.”
Great. At least she could have a drink.
They arrived home. Her mum quizzed her about what had happened, and she relayed the conversation with Dr Manvers.
They told her to go and rest, but she couldn’t on an empty stomach. She never could…otherwise she’d get a real headache. “Would anyone like a sandwich?”
Laurel shook her head. “No, thanks. I’ve got a nice salad waiting for me in my office.”
“Mum?”
She patted her tummy. “Only just had breakfast. My carer will get me something later.”
There was nobody to look after apart from herself, and it felt divine. What a change. She glanced around and spotted a bread bin next to the microwave, so she strolled over. Before lifting the lid, she stared at the black marble surface and ran her hand across it. It felt like real marble. Wow. I could get used to this. There were lots of little details like that, things that were a step up from what she was used to, and it lifted her spirits another notch. She pulled out an uncut loaf of bread, found a carving knife and a bread board, and cut a few slices off. It wasn’t just any sort of bread. It was crammed full of cranberries, seeds, and raisins. She licked her lips and then found butter, mayo, salad stuff, and chicken in the fridge. It wasn’t like it was specialty food, but she rarely got the chance to make herself something without having to rush to do the next thing on the daily chores list. She made the sandwich, took it to the table, and sat down. She was just about to bite into it when she heard Laurel and her mum laughing. She put the sandwich back down when she saw them in the doorway, watching her. “What?”
