Forgotten: a truly gripping psychological thriller (25 page)

I had dinner with Sandy this evening and she came armed with her guidebook to show me a trekking route not too far from Chiang Mai. It’s very tempting to get right off the beaten track and the route is broken down into stages with a village to stay in each night. Sandy did the whole route, alone, two years ago and had the time of her life. I tried to explain some of my fears; snakes, men… but she assured me that it was perfectly safe. I really enjoyed our walk today and it’s made me hungry for more, but I don’t think I have the confidence. It was a relief when Sandy finally gave up and allowed me to retreat into my cowardice.

I checked the book later and found out something interesting. The route Sandy described leads to an isolated village where there’s a recommended guesthouse. From there it’s possible to do guided walks in the forest. If I could get there I could stay for a few days and do some safe exploration. I just have to get off the bus in the middle of nowhere and walk for three hours along a well-marked path. It sounds simple when I put it like that. Now I’m really torn, I’d love to go there and do some relaxing walking for a couple of weeks. I wouldn’t even have to walk back to the road because the people who run the guesthouse can arrange a lift back. Sadly there’s no phone so there’s no chance of a pick-up to get there though – maybe I need to give it more thought.

Every nerve in my body had trembled with the anticipation of being caught. I knew I would be nervous, but this was more of a sexual thrill than ordinary nerves. It was a turn on.

It’s not really like I broke in, anyway, I’m paying for the room – the maid I bribed had understood that. What she hadn’t understood was that she had to wait outside. A threatening scowl and another wad of baht and she got the message.

That’s all the women here seemed to want – money. Phet has finally over-stepped the mark with me. She’d seen reports of the ‘accident’ in the papers, put two and two together and come up with blackmail. I caught her going through my pockets while I was in the shower. She hadn’t noticed me at first so I watched as she checked out my fake passport, then I asked her what the fuck she thought she was doing.

God, that smile as she demanded money to keep quiet! She’d been so fucking pleased with herself. It hadn’t taken long to wipe the grin off her face. I’m pretty certain that she won’t be doing much smiling for a good long while, or trying any more stunts like that one.

As I stepped into the hotel room I took time to appreciate the atmosphere, the stillness of the room and the tidiness. The whole room was almost pathologically neat. There were no clothes on the chairs or the bed, her discarded walking boots were paired up neatly next to the door, the clock and pile of leaflets on the bedside table were aligned with almost mathematical precision. It looked a lot like my own room. I like that – tidiness shows organisation and control.

I went straight to the bedside table: the small drawer was the most obvious place. Logic should have told me that the most obvious place was the least likely but I tried it anyway. Nothing. There was a magazine on the table, some women’s thing about clothes and hairstyles. I flicked through a couple of pages but quickly lost interest, turning instead to the bed. I pulled back the covers even though I knew that she would have been expecting a maid and she wouldn’t have left anything lying around on the bed. The bottom sheet was rumpled – she’s obviously having restless nights. Not surprising really – and it isn’t likely to get better any time soon if I have anything to do with it. I was so tempted to drop my trousers and get in between the sheets – just to relieve the aching in my groin. But that would have been sloppy, undisciplined and beneath me.

After the bed, I checked in the bathroom, but my search was a bit half-hearted – nobody would leave anything important in their bathroom and she was no exception. That only left the wardrobe.

I pushed the doors gently, assessing the quality of the lock. There was a little give but the mechanism seemed fairly solid. I could see that I couldn’t force the doors without breaking the lock and possibly splintering the wood. I tried pulling them towards me but, again, there was too little movement for me to be able to pop open the lock without leaving some sign. Frustrated, I was tempted to just kick the fucking doors down and take what I wanted. But that approach is no good. She’s started to trust me and I can’t afford to have her suspicious. If she’s in the least bit wary the final part of my plan won’t work. And it has to work. It’s perfect.

XIV

Kai wasn’t sure whether Mark had chosen the restaurant because it was expensive or because it was romantic. A quick look at the menu, discreetly posted next to the entrance, assured her that it fit the former criteria and the ambience was certainly a few steps removed from the café where she’d had lunch. The tables were generously spaced around a gravelled courtyard. Each was lit with a single candle in a red bowl, the shaded light attracting a flickering display of moths and flies from the gathering gloom.

In the absence of a waiter, Kai had allowed Mark to lead her to a corner table where he took a seat with his back to the prison-like wrought iron fence which guarded this oasis. His position forced Kai to sit facing him with the restaurant behind her, making her more reliant on following his lead. She turned around, craning her neck in search of a someone to bring them a menu and managed to catch the eye of one of the men chatting next to the bar. He picked up two thick, leather-bound menus, which looked more like volumes from a Victorian library than lists of meals, and scuttled over to their table, solicitous and eager.

‘Something to drink?’ the waiter asked, raising his eyebrows to punctuate the question.

‘Beer,’ Kai and Mark responded in unison, prompting a knowing smile from the man. He placed the menus carefully in front of each of them in turn and left them to choose. Kai quickly opened her menu, hoping to see something familiar that she could order with confidence.

‘You’ve developed quite a taste for the local brew,’ Mark observed, his menu still unopened on the table. He was smiling but there was something slightly judgemental about his tone.

‘Well, I don’t know how long it’s been since I last had a drink so I reckon I’m making up for lost time,’ Kai grinned, trying to detract from the slight hint of defensiveness that had crept into her tone.

‘Sounds quite reasonable to me,’ he grinned. ‘I’ll have to remember that one, I’m always looking for new excuses to drink.’

Kai studied him to see if he was teasing her. His eyes, reflecting the candlelight like twin pinpricks of fire, were friendly, open, and his smile seemed completely natural – it was hard for Kai to believe that he wasn’t completely genuine.

‘What you looking at?’ he asked, his tone mock-gruff.

‘I don’t know, it hasn’t got a label,’ Kai countered causing Mark to laugh aloud.

‘God, I haven’t heard that one since I was at school. Maybe part of your memory loss is remembering things that most other people have forgotten. You can probably remember advertising jingles from the eighties and stuff like that.’

‘Nice idea,’ Kai admitted. ‘I could probably make a fortune at a freak show but, sadly, I don’t have much control over what I remember. Sometimes things just come into my head, but I don’t know where they’re from.’

‘Such as?’ Mark asked, his eyes narrowing with interest. Kai looked down at her place setting, running the tip of one finger along the tines of the fork, wondering where to start and how much to say.

‘Like just now. I have no idea why I said that. I can’t remember anyone ever saying it to me. I can’t remember an incident from school that I connect with that phrase, it just popped into my head.’

Mark nodded, leaving Kai to continue. ‘So if I suddenly say something and it sounds like it’s a memory it might well be, but it’s all pretty random and unconnected. I’ve tried reading and watching TV to stimulate my brain, to see if anything is familiar, but neither seemed to work. I think my concentration span must be quite limited at the moment.’

‘You still getting headaches?’ Mark asked.

‘Sometimes,’ Kai admitted. ‘Mostly when I read. I try to limit my reading to no more than an hour at a time.’

‘Have you finished reading your journal?’

For a moment Kai felt uncomfortable, as though Mark had somehow got hold of a secret about her that he’d been waiting to reveal. She wanted to ask him how the hell he could possibly know about her diary then she remembered that he’d seen the journal in the hospital and that she’d spoken to him about it a couple of times.

‘Not yet,’ she admitted. ‘I feel a bit reluctant to read the whole thing. I want to get to know myself bit by bit. I think if I overload my consciousness that I might just end up confused about what I can remember and what I’ve read.’

‘And what have you read?’ Mark pushed on.

‘Well, I…’

‘Two beers,’ a voice behind her announced. The waiter appeared and placed a glass and a bottle in front of each of them. Kai watched her bottle sweat, wondering how best to answer Mark’s question. What had she read? How much had she learnt about her previous self? And how much was she willing to divulge?

The waiter stood expectantly next to the table and Mark laughed.

‘Sorry, we’ve not even looked at the menu yet. Can we have another two minutes please?’

The man nodded and left Kai and Mark to continue their conversation.

‘So, what do you fancy?’ Mark asked, opening his menu. To Kai’s relief he seemed to have forgotten his earlier question and was keen to concentrate on the food.

Kai looked down at her own menu and read the descriptions of each dish carefully. They all seemed familiar and she remembered her diary entry from Laos about eating in an Italian restaurant with another man who she hadn’t known very well. Perhaps this was a pattern, something she enjoyed.

‘I like the sound of puttanesca,’ she announced. ‘I think I must like Italian because most of this seems familiar. I’d have some soup to start but it’s way too hot.’

‘How about a salad?’ Mark suggested. ‘There’s one with tomato and mozzarella which sounds good.’

‘Okay. That’s me sorted then,’ she agreed, allowing him to take the lead.

He raised a hand and signalled the waiter who came eagerly to their assistance. He listened patiently while Mark ordered for both of them and left the table without writing anything down.

‘He must have a good memory,’ Mark commented. ‘Either that or he’s going to deliberately bring us the wrong food. It might make a change from spitting on the plates of awkward customers.’

‘Yuk,’ Kai shuddered. ‘I didn’t think we were that bad. Surely the worst he’ll do is leave it to go cold.’

Mark shrugged. ‘Hope so.’

They both smiled at the joke and Kai was relieved to feel herself relaxing. Mark seemed to have forgotten his question about the diary but she felt a need to give him something, not everything, but perhaps a general idea.

‘You know,’ she began. ‘Ever since I started to read my journal I’ve been feeling more in touch with myself. It’s like the barrier that keeps my memories from me gets thinner every time I read a page or two. And now I’ve left the hospital that feeling’s even stronger. My responses don’t surprise me as much. I think it might only be a matter of time before things start to come back.’

Mark looked down at his place setting, playing with the spoon, rearranging the napkin. For a moment Kai thought he hadn’t been listening but the grave look on his face as he glanced up at her convinced her that he’d heard every word.

‘Doesn’t that worry you, that everything might come back in a rush? Won’t it be like some sort of emotional overload?’

Kai considered for a minute. She didn’t feel overloaded so far and the few things she had remembered felt comfortable, like discovering a forgotten childhood toy or a familiar photograph.

‘I don’t know. I really don’t think I’ll have a complete re-run of my life in a few seconds. I’m hoping that I’ll try to remember something specific and it’ll suddenly be there. Or maybe something will happen and I’ll think
oh that’s like the time when…
I hope it will just feel familiar and normal. It’s really hard to explain. I was in a bookshop earlier today and I found a book by Margaret Atwood. The name was familiar and I somehow knew that I liked her work. It wasn’t a memory as such – just a feeling, an instinct. I feel like I’m putting my personality back together piece by piece and when I’ve completed the jigsaw the whole picture will include my memory.’

Mark nodded enthusiastically. ‘So you’ve remembered something. Is that all, just a book?’

Kai considered for a minute uncertain just how much to tell him. This was personal, something she needed to discover by herself. She had a strangely superstitious feeling that if she shared her secret with anyone she’d lose the ability to remember forever. Instinctively she lied.

‘That’s the only concrete example I’ve got at the moment. The rest is just a feeling. I can’t really explain it properly.’

‘And the journal’s helping?’

Kai shrugged. ‘I don’t know if it’s the journal or just time. Maybe it’s just a good combination. I think freedom has a lot to do with it as well. I was thinking myself round in circles in the hospital. Since I’ve been out I feel much more confident, more aware of myself.’

‘Maybe, because you’ve got other things to occupy you, you’re not obsessing on your problem all the time. It’s like when you try to remember the name of a song or an actor, the more you focus on it the further away the name gets but, as soon as you stop worrying at it, it just pops into your mind,’ Mark suggested, looking pleased to be able to show some degree of understanding.

‘That’s pretty much it,’ Kai agreed. ‘I’m hoping that if I stop getting stressed about the past then it won’t be so threatening and I’ll be able to remember things.’

Mark’s serious face suddenly brightened. ‘Food’s here,’ he announced as the waiter arrived with their salads. They ate in silence except for the obligatory polite comments on the quality of their starters. Kai was impressed with Mark’s suggestion – the food was well suited to a warm, humid evening and was very much to her taste. She found herself almost wishing she’d allowed him to choose her main course too. When they’d finished the attentive waiter cleared their plates asking about the quality with a simple raised eyebrow almost as if to say
‘well, what did I tell you’
before rushing off to hunt down the next course.