Jack is already in the boatshed. I can see him through the neat rows of shiny upturned boats on their stands. I’m wearing my baseball cap pulled down low today. I don’t want him to ask about the cut on my head. If I tell him about Piers’ break-in last night, it might scare him off. Nothing like a lunatic ex-boyfriend in the picture to repel any possibility of a future relationship.
So many mixed emotions course through my body. I really want to go rowing with Jack right now, but what happens if I have another hallucination while I’m out there? He’ll think I’m crazy. Not to mention the fact that it’s dangerous. I could capsize, and the thought of tipping into the cold, green water terrifies me. But how can I not go? I’ll have to push the woman from my mind, and try not to think about falling in. I’m an experienced rower. I can do this.
‘Hey, you.’ Jack comes out of the boatshed, making my stomach swoop. His smile is intoxicating.
‘Hi,’ I say, feeling suddenly shy.
‘You okay?’ he asks, stretching his arms out to the side, warming up.
‘Yeah. You? How was your row yesterday afternoon?’
‘Good, thanks. Two of my students beat their previous times, so we celebrated in the bar afterwards. You should’ve come down. It was a laugh.’
I think about how I actually did spend my evening, wishing I’d known Jack was down here. I would certainly have joined him if I’d realised. Maybe I could’ve avoided the scene with Piers.
Too late now.
‘Sounds good,’ I say.
‘Shall we get the boats out?’ he asks. ‘You warmed up?’
‘Yeah,’ I lie. I would’ve been nicely warmed up from my walk, if not for the terrifying hallucination which chilled me to the bone.
Our rowing session is a good one. I don’t freak out, or capsize, or cry, or make a fool of myself in any way, which is a bonus. We get back to the boat club an hour later, my limbs aching in a good way.
‘Got time for a coffee?’ he asks.
‘Okay.’
We clean the boats and put them away before heading upstairs to the clubhouse bar. I realise I haven’t been up here since my accident. It’s a huge space, ultra-modern with wide leather sofas and low coffee tables arranged artfully around the edges, interspersed with regular tables and chairs. But the most eye-catching feature is the stunning floor-to-ceiling window which runs the length of the room, and makes the most of the beautiful scenery. Even better, there’s a glass door which leads out onto a vast wraparound balcony giving a bird’s eye view of the river below.
‘Wow,’ I say. ‘It’s gorgeous up here.’
‘Yeah. It was refurbed last year. We’re lucky.’ He runs a hand over the top of his head. I can’t help imagining running my own hands over his hair and down the back of his neck. Him with his fingers tangled in my hair. Kissing, touching…
‘Tea? Coffee?’ he asks.
I flush. ‘Coffee please.’
‘Take a seat, I’ll be back in a minute.’ He strolls over to the bar, nodding to a couple of guys who are sitting on a sofa, talking loudly about race times and river conditions. Jack starts chatting to a girl who’s serving the drinks. She lights up when she sees Jack, flirting shamelessly, flicking her hair and pouting. I hope I don’t come across like that when I’m around him. I’ll have to try and keep my feelings in check. I can’t embarrass myself… again.
I don’t sit down straightaway. Instead, I wait by the window and gaze down at the sparkling river, watch it meander all the way up to the sailing club and beyond. The mass of boats, like blue and white toys, their delicate masts sharp against the clear blue sky.
‘Mia,’ Jack calls.
I turn at the sound of my name.
‘Sugar in your coffee?’
‘No thanks,’ I mouth. My head is hot. I long to take off my baseball cap and shake my hair out.
Jack walks over, drinks in hand. ‘Shall we sit outside?’ he asks.
I was hoping he’d suggest that. I need to feel a breeze on my face. He nods towards the door and I grasp the handle, push it open. We sit ourselves at the very edge of the balcony. Jack leans back in his chair and sighs with pleasure.
‘Why would anyone live anywhere else?’ he says. ‘This place is the best.’
I nod and sip my coffee, tongue-tied. Too aware of him.
‘So, Mia. What’ve you got planned for today?’
‘I’m not sure.’ I wonder if he’s going to ask me out again. ‘How about you?’
‘This is my one and only break,’ he says. ‘I’m booked solid from 10 am with sessions all day.’
My stomach swoops with disappointment. But at least we’re spending time together now.
‘How’s your memory?’ he asks. ‘Any better?’
‘Not really. But, weirdly, I remembered a children’s story,’ I say with a smile. ‘Not the most helpful memory in the world, but it’s something.’
‘Depends on the story.’ He grins.
‘The Three Billy Goats Gruff.’
‘Hmm, maybe not. Is that the one with the troll?’
‘Yeah. It came to me as I was walking across the bridge this morning.’
‘Maybe it’s a good thing,’ he says. ‘Maybe it means more memories will follow.’
‘I hope so.’ I love Jack’s optimism.
‘You look a bit distracted this morning,’ he says. ‘You sure you’re okay?’
Should I tell him I’ve seen the woman again? Jack is my only friend. If I don’t talk to him, there’s no one else, other than my doctor. And I’m not seeing her again until next week.
‘Do you remember me telling you about the ghost woman I saw?’
‘The one from the graveyard?’
I nod and take another sip of coffee.
‘Go on.’ Jack nods encouragingly.
‘I saw her again. Today.’
‘While we were on the river?’
‘No. Before, when I was on my way here. It shook me up a bit.’
‘I’m not surprised. What was she doing?’
‘It’s going to sound a bit weird, but she was on the bandstand, staring at me. It was creepy as hell.’
‘It sounds terrifying. Do you recognise her?’
‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘But it’s like she knows me and she wants to do me harm. She doesn’t do or say anything, but the look she gives me is terrifying. Like she wants to hurt me.’
‘Wow. That doesn’t sound good.’ He reaches across the table and takes my hand. He runs his thumb across the tops of my fingers, his touch sets the rest of my body on fire, and I have to fight to concentrate on our conversation. ‘What does she look like, this woman?’ he asks.
‘I’m not sure. She’s young, with blonde hair, slim. She looks crazy. Although… maybe it’s not her who’s the crazy one. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m losing my mind.’
Jack tightens his grip on my hand and stares into my eyes. ‘Of course you’re not losing your mind, Mia. You went through a traumatic experience. It’s obvious there’ll be some fallout. I’m sure it’s a symptom of your amnesia. Your mind trying to come to terms with everything. Look, after you told me about your accident, I did a little research online. It says that with amnesia, you can have false memories. So this woman is probably no one. And even if she is a real memory, she can’t hurt you. She’s just a hallucination. She’s not real.’
All I can think of is that Jack went to the trouble of researching my condition online. I can’t believe he’s so thoughtful. ‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘Not to sound soppy or anything, but I’m really lucky to have you as a friend.’
‘Aw, shucks,’ he says with a smile. ‘But really, Mia. Try not to let the hallucinations get to you. And if she appears to you again, call me and I’ll come over. You can talk to me anytime. I mean it.’
‘And what about a therapist? Should I see one, do you think?’
‘It’s up to you. Personally, I wouldn’t bother. They just want to take your money for letting you talk to them. And anyway, you can
talk to me for free.’ He finishes up his drink and lets go of my hand. ‘I don’t want to leave you now, Mia, but I have to go. My rowers will be here in a minute.’
‘Of course,’ I say, happy that he’s reluctant to leave me. ‘Sorry. I’ve been wittering on about my problems for ages.’
‘No. I told you, you can talk to me anytime. I’m here for you, okay?’
I nod.
‘Stay here. Finish your coffee. I’ll give you a call later.’
‘Thanks,’ I say.
He smiles and heads back inside. I watch as he takes his mug back to the bar and leaves. The sun still blazes overhead, but I shiver now he’s gone. Already lonely without him.
The rest of the morning passes slowly. There’s no urgency about anything in my life. I can do whatever I want, whenever I want. But instead of enjoying this freedom, I feel untethered, like a balloon floating up and away, unsure if I’ll finally come down to rest somewhere good, or if I’ll fly too close to the sun and explode with a bang.
After showering and changing, I walk into town, browse in a bookshop, and then half-heartedly try on a few clothes in one of the high street’s many boutiques. Lastly, I pick up some groceries from M&S and head home.
As I walk back through town, I have so many things I could be worrying about, but my head is filled with nothing but Jack. Of whether I’ll be able to see him again tonight. Of whether he’ll ring me, or call round after his coaching sessions. I should have asked him over to my place. Told him I could cook us some dinner – okay, bought us something ready-prepared and pretended I’d cooked it. But I don’t think I could pluck up the courage to ask him round. Not after his rejection when we kissed.
I wish I knew how he really feels. Whether he’s just being kind. Or whether he really likes me as something more. Is the split from his wife permanent? I don’t know him well enough to ask. It would seem – rude, presumptuous. I’ll just have to wait. See if he’ll make a move. I decide not to cut through the priory today. Although it’s a clear, bright day with lots of people around, I’m still spooked by the memory of the woman. Instead, I turn right and walk along the back streets.
At home, I kick off my shoes, put away the shopping, and make myself some lunch. I take my salad over to the sofa and flop down. As I eat, thoughts of my family come to mind. My sister yelling, and my mum crying. My mum hasn’t even called me since last weekend. I wonder if she ever will. Did she forgive Cara? Did she let her come back home? I don’t feel the urge to contact either of them. My mum doesn’t seem as bad as my sister, but neither of them feels like a proper family.
My brain hurts to think about all that, so I stop. Pushing them down into the empty chasms of my mind. My mum and sister are part of the old Mia. Right now, I’m going to concentrate on the new me. On the rest of my life. I polish off the last of my salad, take a swig of water, and head downstairs to the office.
A few minutes later, I’m sitting at my desk staring at my tablet – my laptop is still at the PC repair place. I’m browsing through pages on the British Rowing website, at the section on qualifications and coaching. There are various levels of skills and courses on offer, and I’m not sure which one would suit me best. Looks like I’ll have to call on Jack’s expertise once again. I hope he isn’t going to get sick of me.
I spend a while studying the images on the website. Happy people in their team kits, rowing on different stretches of water. But I’m beginning to feel a little sleepy, my eyes growing heavy. I think I may have to head back upstairs and take a nap. I blink and focus on the screen again, on an image of a girl on the water. She’s staring out at me, her smile fixed forever. The river around her, deep and dark. I should turn it off, but I can’t seem to stop looking at the water on the screen. The sky in the image appears to be darkening. It looks like the water is moving, growing choppier. It’s not a video, it’s a photo, so why is it moving?
My head swims. A whooshing sound envelops me, like water rushing into my ears. I grip the desk to steady myself, but it’s not the desk any longer, it’s the side of a boat.
***
It’s dark. Freezing. And I try to cling on to the edge of the boat as someone loosens my fingers one by one. This person means me harm. They want to hurt me, physically. I feel hands on my back – pushing. And now I’ve lost my grip. I’m flailing forwards, gasping in fear. There’s a sharp pain at the back of my head, blinding, throbbing. As I go under, I try to call out, but the water enters my mouth, my nose, my ears. I’m sinking, turning, falling. I thrash and spin around. The silent roar of water fills my head, and all I see is the wavery shape of someone’s face peering down through the black water at me as I fall away into the thick, cold darkness.
Twenty-Four
My mouth is dry, my head pounding. My cheek pressed against the hard, wooden floor. Where am I?
The office.
I’m in my office at home. The sun streams in through the windows, warming my cheek, though my fingers are numb. Icy. I clench my fists. What happened? I must have passed out. Fallen to the floor.
I grow cold as I remember the flashback. Chills down my spine. A knot in my stomach. The deep water. The terror of sinking. The river enveloping me in its chilly grasp. Someone pushed me into the water. Someone tried to kill me!
I stay on the floor, curling into a foetal position. Trying to remember, but wishing I could forget. It was real. Someone tried to kill me. I close my eyes and try to replay the memory. To visualise the face of my attacker. But I can’t. I open my eyes again and stare at the wood-grain of the floor, slide my hands between my thighs to warm them up. Blink. I’m too shocked to move. I don’t know what to do. The police told me they thought it was an accident. But I know now that it was deliberate. Someone was trying to harm me. To kill me.
But I’m not dead. I’m very much alive.
I uncurl my body and sit up, slowly. My brain feels as though it’s floating loose in my skull. Like I have the mother of all hangovers. A wave of nausea crawls over my scalp. I stop moving and take a steady breath. Thankfully, the sick feeling passes and I’m able to sit all the way up. As I grip the edge of the desk to lever myself to my feet, I recall my hands gripping the edge of the boat. The feeling of helplessness as my attacker pried my fingers free. Why would anyone want to kill me?
For my money?
Maybe.
But who? I can think of at least three people who don’t like me. But would they hate me enough to kill me?
I need Paracetamol. My head pounds so ferociously I can barely see. I lurch out of the office, my hands moving along the walls to steady myself. Head bowed, eyes half closed. Painkillers first. Then I’ll call the police.
I didn’t make it to get the painkillers, or to call the police. I fell asleep before I got there. Lay down on the end of the bed and closed my eyes. Now, I awake to darkness and silence. My headache has eased to a dull throb, and I shiver, wrapping my arms around my body. Remembering.
I should stir myself and call DS Wright, but what if my memory is unreliable. Jack said people with amnesia often have false memories. Maybe the flashback isn’t real. But it felt so vivid. I’m still shaking, for Christ’s sake. I stagger to my feet and reach across to hit the light switch. This place feels so empty and cold. My stomach is in knots. If my memory is real, then whoever tried to kill me might still be out there. They might try again. I glance out of the window at the darkness, at the glittering lights along the river, my thoughts looping back on themselves. I can’t think straight. I suddenly feel exposed standing here by the window. I check the doors to the balcony are locked, and pull the curtains closed, making sure there’s no gap for anyone to see through.
Leaving the bedroom, I make my way upstairs, switching on the lights as I go. My phone’s up here. My bag lies on the breakfast bar. I rummage around inside until I locate my mobile. There’s only one person I want to talk to right now – Jack.
I pace the lounge, waiting for him to arrive. From the sofas at one end of the room, I wa
lk past the dining table and reach the balcony doors at the other end, then I turn around and walk back again, chewing the skin around the edges of my nails, and trying to get my scattered thoughts into some kind of order. My bare feet sink into the carpet as I pace, my skin prickles with nerves.
Am I mad? Do I need medical help? Am I in danger? Do I need the police? I’m too anxious to call the emergency services. I’ll be taken to the police station, or to the hospital. I’ll be all alone. I’m sick of feeling so lonely. Scared. I need someone to be with me. Someone I trust.
When I called Jack, he answered straight away. I heard the quaver in my voice as I asked him if I could come over to his place. He told me not to worry. To sit tight. That he would come over to mine in a few minutes. That I didn’t sound calm enough to drive, and it was too far and too dark for me to walk alone. So now all I can do is pace until the doorbell rings. Jack will know what to do for the best. I’ll tell him what happened and he’ll set my mind at ease.
The minutes slide by and still no Jack. Is he coming? Did something happen? Where is he? I brave the balcony and peer down. No car headlights coming down the lane. My teeth are chattering, I’m so cold.
‘Mia! Is that you?’ I’m startled by my name being called from below. I squint down through the railings.
‘Jack?’
‘You okay?’ he calls up.
‘I’m coming down,’ I croak. Instantly, my shoulders relax. He’s here. He’s going to help me sort this out. Untangle my jumbled mind. Sieve through what’s true and what’s not.
I ignore the intercom, and lurch down the two flights of stairs to the ground floor, careless of the steepness of the staircase. Almost losing my footing several times. But I finally make it to the front door without mishap, wrench open the door to see a concerned-looking Jack standing there, his hands dug into the pockets of his jeans, his grey hoody zipped up against the chill night air.
The Girl from the Sea: A gripping psychological thriller with a heart-pounding twist Page 15
