Forgotten: a truly gripping psychological thriller (17 page)

Kai stopped, her heart beating wildly. This was a memory, she was certain. She hadn’t written about his eyes, hadn’t imagined his eyes while she was reading about him.

‘Kai?’

She shook her head, refusing to open her eyes and be drawn back to the present. She wanted to see him, to see Callum smiling down at her.

‘Kai, what’s wrong?’

The memory wouldn’t come. Light, irregular moving patterns like the sun through leaves again. Birdsong. Nothing. Static.

Frustrated she slapped the arm of the chair.

‘Fuck, I nearly had it!’

‘I’m sorry? What happened Kai?’

She sighed and opened her eyes to see Ellen’s worried expression.

‘That bit about his eyes and me teasing him. I’m sure that wasn’t in the journal, I remembered it. But that’s all – I know I was there and what I said, but I can’t see it.’

‘And you’re sure you remembered it?’ Ellen sounded sceptical. ‘Perhaps you’re just adding to what you’ve read, embellishing the story.’

Kai’s excitement began to fade. It was possible that she’d created a situation that she wished she could remember, something interesting that had happened to her. But she didn’t remember making it up. It wasn’t a conscious thing and again there was that nagging doubt. Was her mind playing tricks on her? Was she crazy? How can you invent a scenario and, in the space of a couple of days, forget that it is a fabrication and believe that it actually happened? Kai’s mind hummed with the high pitched whine of tension. What was real?

She looked around, taking in the room. This was real, it was exactly as she remembered from her previous visit. It was a small room, restricting. Perhaps Ellen thought that enforced physical closeness would lead to an atmosphere of trust. Kai simply found it oppressive. The walls were a pale colour, cream or a washed-out apricot, but the furniture was dark and dominating, there was something almost funereal about it. The desk could have comfortably housed a coffin, allowing the bereaved to view the corpse, all it needed was a vase of lilies and–

‘Kai? You’ve lost focus.’

That was exactly how she felt – blurred, lacking form.

‘I’m sorry, just got lost for a minute.’ She leaned forward with her forearms on her knees, head hanging as she drew in a deep breath. ‘Okay, let’s try again.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I’m sure. It was nothing important, I just find this room a bit claustrophobic.’

‘Really?’ Ellen looked round as though she’d never seen her office before. ‘I think it’s quite bright and airy considering its size.’

‘Must be part of my particular psychosis, feeling closed in all the time. Hardly surprising when this hospital has become my world. I think I need to get out more.’

‘That’s probably a good idea,’ Ellen agreed. ‘New forms of stimulation might trigger something, you might start making associations with your past.’

Kai smiled without allowing it to reach her eyes. ‘I meant it might just make me feel better, it might make me feel more real, more alive.’

‘Of course. God, I’m sorry! I’m thinking like a doctor too much. I’m sure it would help your state of mind to get out, see the town, have a beer.’

‘Now that I do remember. I’d have to be in a really bad way to forget beer.’

‘Sounds like you like a drink,’ Ellen suggested, her tone neutral.

‘I think I probably do,’ Kai laughed. ‘Right now I’d kill for one… or about ten.’

‘Do you think alcohol played a big part in your life? Is there a drink problem?’ suddenly Ellen was coldly professional, throwing Kai off balance.

‘I– I don’t know. I suppose anything’s possible but somehow I don’t think so. I’d just like to sit out in the sun with a cold beer.’

‘And your friends? Earlier you mentioned a friend from home.’

‘Penny,’ Kai said. ‘She saw me off at the airport. I’d e-mailed her and I think there was some friction between her and David. Perhaps I told her what he was really like – he certainly didn’t like her. I mention him calling her a ‘man-hating dyke’ or something like that. Hardly complimentary.’

‘Penny’s gay?’

Kai shrugged. ‘Sounds like it.’

‘But you’re just friends?’

‘I don’t know,’ Kai laughed. ‘It’s yet another possibility. Alcoholic, lesbian, who knows? I might be a mass murderer or a political assassin. I could be anyone, anything.’

Ellen’s expression told Kai that her humour wasn’t appreciated. She leaned back and gave the question serious consideration.

‘It doesn’t fit with this relationship that I’ve written about. There’s also more than a hint that I’m attracted to Callum, and I spent yesterday with a man, Mark, who comes to visit me and I think there’s something a little sexy about him.’

The doctor was quiet for a while, studying her nails then tapping a pen against the knuckles of one hand in an annoying rhythm. Kai realised the doctor was trying, in the absence of notes, to gather her thoughts and perhaps form some sort of conclusion. Suddenly Ellen smiled and held Kai’s eyes with her own deep brown ones.

‘Had enough?’ she asked.

Kai nodded.

‘Okay, have you learnt anything about yourself?’

‘Like what?’ Kai felt irritated, as though she’d been cheated. There was nothing new here except for the lightning flash memory of Callum.

‘Well, I think we know more about what sort of person you really are.’

‘We do?’ she asked, unable to conceal the heavy sarcasm in her tone.

‘Come on, Kai, look at what you’ve told me. You’ve come out of an abusive relationship with enough strength and confidence to travel – alone – to some difficult and unusual places. Whatever this man did to you you’re not blaming all men because you’re still attracted to Callum and possibly Mark. You’re a social person, you like a drink with your friends and one of your closest friends is gay so you’re probably quite liberal, broad-minded, whatever. I don’t think there’s anything sinister here, I think you’re frightened by your memory loss, which is a pretty normal reaction I’d say, but otherwise I think you’re pretty much okay.’

‘So, what now?’ Kai asked, struggling with the blanket of depression that was trying to smother her again.

Ellen smiled and checked her watch.

‘Now I’d like to buy you a beer. How does that sound?’

‘What?’ Kai was so surprised that she wasn’t sure that she’d heard the doctor properly.

‘I’d like to take you for a beer. I’m finished for the day and I’ve no plans, so how about it?’

‘Is it allowed? Aren’t there rules about socialising with patients?’

Ellen grinned and stood up stretching and yawning loudly.

‘Sorry, it’s been a long day. Well, technically you’re not my patient.’ She crossed to the closet in the corner, took off her suit jacket and shrugged on a faded cotton shirt. ‘You’re Ekachai’s, so he’s probably not allowed to take you drinking. Plus he’s a man and an offer to take you out could easily be misconstrued. So how about it?’

Kai practically leapt to her feet in her eagerness to leave.

‘You’re on, I just need to get cleaned up and– oh, shit! I don’t have any money.’

‘No problem,’ Ellen smiled. ‘My treat. Anyway, you’re in Thailand: most people come here because it’s cheap. So, go, wash, I’m dying of thirst here.’

X

The bar was busier than Kai had expected considering it was only five-thirty in the afternoon. It looked like it was a popular place with tourists, judging by the number of westerners occupying the tables, which were neatly arranged in shadowy alcoves. There seemed to be a bamboo theme running through the whole place – bamboo matting on the walls, pillars painted to look like thick canes and black and white bamboo print on the fabric covering the stools and the backs of the seats in the padded booths. The whole place was dimly lit, especially after the bright afternoon sun, and Kai struggled to focus in the gloom. She stood next to Ellen at the bar, reluctant to be left alone at a table among the afternoon drinkers. She tried not to stare as her eyes adjusted to the dimness, but it was hard not to become transfixed by the sight of other people, real people, maybe even English people, people she might have something in common with.

Nearly every table was occupied, some by groups but most by pairs of men and women obviously trying to isolate themselves from the other customers. Judging by some of the over-affectionate, even lewd behaviour, they must have found some sense of privacy. With just a quick scan of the nearest tables she saw a red-faced, rather sweaty-looking middle-aged man slide his hand up the skirt of his female companion; and a nearby pair whose kisses looked more like bites.

One thing that puzzled her was the number of mixed-race couples – western men and Thai women – dotted around the place. A loud fat man caught her attention. He stopped a young boy who was touring the tables trying to sell roses to any likely looking customers and ostentatiously bought the whole lot. His lady friend buried her face in his shoulder to hide her embarrassment when he presented her with the huge bouquet, but she still accepted them. As she pulled away from the man, Kai realised how different this woman was from the few other Thai women she’d seen in the hospital and on her brief trip out with Mark. Her hair was bleached in streaks and tied in thin plaits, each with a coloured bead at the end which swirled into complex patterns each time she flicked her hair back from her pale, heavily made-up face. She wore a waist-length denim jacket and microscopic shorts which gave a good view of her buttocks.

‘What’s that about?’ Kai whispered to Ellen.

Ellen turned to study the couple, scowling her disapproval. ‘Thailand’s most lucrative industry.’

Kai shook her head puzzled.

‘It’s what most men come here for,’ Ellen sighed. ‘Do you really think a guy like that could attract such a pretty girl with his looks and personality? She’s a hooker.’

‘Are we in some sort of seedy bar?’ Kai asked, completely baffled.

‘Only in the sense that every bar here has its seedy element. Personally I don’t get it. Everybody knows that the guy has paid the girl to be seen with him. What’s the point in showing her off like that, being so public about the fact that he has to pay for it? I know it’s an ego boost to be seen with a good-looking girl, or guy, but somehow that gets cancelled out when it’s just a business transaction.’

Kai looked at the other couples around her. So many obviously fit Ellen’s description – she even saw western men with Thai boys – and yet the other customers didn’t seem in the least bit disturbed. There were other people in the bar who seemed to be there simply to enjoy a drink and a chat with their friends. Kai shrugged,
live and let live
.

‘What are you having?’ Ellen asked, having finally attracted the attention of a hassled-looking barmaid.

‘The usual?’

Ellen studied her face for a few seconds checking that it was safe to smile.

‘Okay, funny. How about a cold Beer Chang?’

‘Sounds good to me. Shall I find us somewhere to sit?’

Ellen nodded and turned back to the barmaid to place her order while Kai headed for one of the few vacant booths, partly hidden behind a thick wooden pillar but with a good view of the bar. See but not be seen: not quite as good as sunglasses but fairly close.

Half an hour later she settled back in her seat, enjoying the beer buzz and Ellen’s company. The doctor soon had Kai transfixed with the story of her complicated background. Her father had been with the US marines during the Vietnam War and, like most of the soldiers, he’d looked forward to his R and R time in Bangkok. Kai had been puzzled when Ellen just assumed she would understand her Americanisms but got the gist when Ellen explained that much of Thailand’s sex industry had sprung up in the sixties to service the servicemen. Ellen’s father had met her mother on one of his forays into the big city.

‘Your mother was a prostitute?’ Kai asked, too shocked to manage any tact.

Ellen smiled. ‘It would have been a colourful story if she was, but she was just a waitress in a restaurant my dad used to visit. They saw each other across a crowded room and the rest is history.’

Much of Ellen’s personal history was rather sad, concerning the prejudice she’d faced as a mixed race child in a Midwest town and the struggle to become accepted in the male-dominated world of psychotherapy, but she managed to give all her stories a witty angle. She gave Kai an account of the time she was approached by an American man in the bar of a Chiang Mai hotel. She’d let him do all the persuading, telling her what a nice, gentle guy he was while she just nodded and smiled. When he’d finished she’d said in her broadest, fake New York accent: ‘Get outta here, buddy, and go back to your wife.’

Kai nearly had hysterics when Ellen described how he’d been so surprised that he’d gone to take a swig of his drink and completely missed his gaping mouth. It felt so good to be living again, to be doing something normal, to be in good company – the only thing missing was the fact that Kai couldn’t reciprocate with stories from her own life. She felt the imbalance in the relationship but Ellen didn’t seem to mind: she had enough anecdotes for both of them and clearly enjoyed sharing her stories, and her time, with Kai.

She’d just launched into a tale about a drunken binge during her college days when Kai’s attention was drawn to movement at the bar. The shock of recognition jolted her back to the present, her frown prompting Ellen to stop mid-sentence and turn round.

‘Who’s that?’ she asked squinting in the poor light.

‘Mark. I told you about him, the one who’s been visiting me,’ Kai said, her attention shifting from Mark to the figure at his side. She was leaning on the bar, arms crossed, facing outwards, scrutinising the other customers and affording Kai a clear view of her face. Her glance passed from table to table, much as Kai imagined her own had when she and Ellen had first arrived. However, this woman exhibited more than passing interest; she almost looked as though she were searching for something or checking out each couple like a disapproving aunt. Her features were strikingly pretty, almost little-girl-like, an impression enhanced by the baggy, collarless man’s shirt and baggy, bleached jeans she was wearing. As Mark turned and handed her a drink her face lit up with an adoring smile which contrasted starkly with the peculiar intensity of seconds before. Mark’s expression was lost in the shadow of the pillar he leaned against, but the way he clinked the young woman’s bottle with his own indicated approval.