Remember Me? (15 page)

An odd expression flickers across the man’s face. Almost like disappointment. Then he nods.

“That’s right. I’m the guy from the car.”

“Jon’s our creative spirit,” says Eric, slapping him on the back. “He’s the talent. I may have the financial sense, but this is the man who
brings
the world”—he pauses momentously—“loft-style living.” As he says the words, he does the parallel-hands-sweeping-bricks gesture again.

“Great!” I try to sound enthused. I know it’s Eric’s business and everything, but that phrase “loft-style living” is really starting to bug me.

“Thanks again for the other day.” I smile politely at Jon. “You really saved my life!” I turn to Eric. “I didn’t tell you, darling, but I tried to drive the car and nearly hit the wall. Jon helped me.”

“It was my pleasure.” Jon takes a sip of his drink. “So, you still don’t remember anything?”

“Nothing.” I shake my head.

“That must be strange for you.”

“It is…but I’m getting used to it. And Eric’s really helpful. He’s made me this book to help me remember. It’s like a marriage manual. With sections and everything.”

“A manual?” Jon echoes, and his nose starts twitching. “You’re serious. A manual.”

“Yes, a manual.” I stare at him suspiciously.

“Ah, there’s Graham.” Eric isn’t even listening to the conversation. “I must just have a word. Excuse me.” He heads off inside, leaving me and Jon the architect guy alone.

I don’t know what it is about this man. I mean, I don’t even
know
him, but he rankles me.

“What’s wrong with a marriage manual?” I hear myself demanding.

“No. Nothing. Nothing at all.” He shakes his head gravely. “It’s a very sensible move. Because otherwise you might not know when you were supposed to kiss each other.”

“Exactly! Eric’s put in a whole section on—” I break off. Jon’s mouth is crinkled up as if he’s trying not to laugh. Does he think this is
funny
? “The manual covers all sorts of areas,” I say rather stonily. “And it’s been very helpful for both of us. You know, it’s difficult for Eric, too, having a wife who doesn’t remember the first thing about him! Or perhaps you hadn’t appreciated that?”

There’s silence. All the humor has melted out of his face.

“Believe me,” he says at last. “I appreciate it.” He drains his glass, then stares into the bottom of it for a few moments. He looks up and seems about to speak—then, as the sliding doors open, changes his mind.

“Lexi!” Rosalie comes tottering over toward us, glass in hand. “
Wonderful
canapés!”

“Oh, well…thanks!” I say, embarrassed to be receiving praise for something I had absolutely nothing to do with. “I haven’t had any yet. Do they taste good?”

Rosalie appears perplexed. “I’ve no idea, sweetie. But they
look
marvelous. And Eric says dinner’s about to begin.”

“Oh God,” I say guiltily. “I’ve just left him to it. We’d better go in. D’you two know each other?” I add as we start walking in.

“Sure,” says Jon.

“Jon and I are
old
friends,” Rosalie says sweetly. “Aren’t we, darling?”

“See you.” Jon nods, picks up his pace, and disappears through the glass doors.

“Awful man.” Rosalie makes a face at his departing back.

“Awful?” I echo in surprise. “Eric seems to like him.”

“Oh, Eric likes him,” she says disdainfully. “And Clive thinks he’s the bees’ knees. He’s visionary and wins prizes, blah blah blah…” She tosses her head. “But he’s the rudest man I ever met. When I asked him to donate to my charity last year, he refused. In fact, he laughed.”

“He
laughed
?” I say, shocked. “That’s terrible! What was the charity?”

“It was called An Apple a Day,” she says proudly. “I thought the whole idea up myself. The idea was, once a year we’d give an apple to every schoolchild in an inner-city borough. Full of lovely nutrients! Isn’t that so simple, it’s brilliant?”

“Er…great idea,” I say cautiously. “So, did it work out?”

“Well, it started off well,” Rosalie says rather crossly. “We gave out
thousands
of apples and we had special T-shirts and a van with an apple logo to drive about in. It was such fun! Until the council started sending us stupid letters about fruit being abandoned in the street and causing vermin.”

“Oh dear.” I bite my lip. The truth is, now
I
want to laugh.

“You know, this is the trouble with charity work,” she says darkly, lowering her voice. “The local bureaucrats don’t
want
you to help.”

We’ve reached the sliding doors and I stare in at the crowd. Twenty faces I don’t recognize are laughing and talking and exclaiming at each other. I can see jewels flashing and hear the rumble of men’s laughter.

“Now, don’t worry.” Rosalie’s hand is on my arm. “Eric and I have a plan. Everyone’s going to stand up and introduce themselves to you at dinner.” Her brow wrinkles. “Sweetie, you look freaked.”

“No!” I manage a smile. “Not freaked!”

This is a lie. I’m totally freaked. As I find my place at the long glass dining table, nodding and smiling as people greet me, I feel like I’m in some weird dream. These people are allegedly my friends. They all know me. And I’ve never even
seen
them before.

“Lexi,
darling
.” A dark woman draws me aside as I’m approaching my chair. “Can I have a quick word?” She lowers her voice almost to a whisper. “I was with you all day on the fifteenth and the twenty-first, okay?”

“Were you?” I say blankly.

“Yes. If Christian asks. Christian, my husband?” She gestures at the balding Mick-Jagger-guitar guy, who’s taking his seat opposite.

“Oh, right.” I digest this for a moment. “Were we really together?”

“Of course!” she says after a brief pause. “Of course we were, darling!” She squeezes my hand and moves away.

“Ladies and gentlemen.” Eric is standing at the other end of the gleaming table, and the chatter dies to a hush as everyone sits down. “Welcome to our home. Lexi and I are delighted you could make it.”

All eyes swivel to me, and I give an embarrassed smile.

“As you know, Lexi is suffering the aftereffects of her recent accident, which means her memory’s not too hot.” Eric gives a rueful smile. A man opposite laughs, then is shushed by his wife. “So what I propose is that each of you reintroduce yourselves to Lexi. Stand up, give your name, and maybe some memorable event that links you.”

“Do the doctors think this will trigger Lexi’s memory?” asks an earnest-looking guy to my right.

“No one knows,” Eric says gravely. “But we have to try. So…who wants to start?”

“Me! I’ll start!” Rosalie says, leaping to her feet. “Lexi, I’m your best friend, Rosalie, which you already know. And
our
memorable incident was that time we both got waxed and the girl got a bit carried away…” She breaks into a giggle. “Your
face
…”

“What happened?” says a girl in black.

“I’m not saying in public!” Rosalie looks offended. “But honestly, it was
totally
memorable.” She beams around the table, then sits down.

“Right,” says Eric, sounding a bit taken aback. “Who’s next? Charlie?”

“I’m Charlie Mancroft.” A gruff man next to Rosalie stands up and nods at me. “I suppose our memorable incident would be the time we were all at Wentworth for that corporate do. Montgomerie made a birdie on the eighteenth. Stunning play.” He looks at me expectantly.

“Of course!” I have no idea what he’s talking about. Golf? Or snooker, maybe. “Er…thanks.”

He sits down and a thin girl next to him gets to her feet.

“Hi, Lexi.” She gives me a little wave. “I’m Natalie. And my most memorable event would be your wedding day.”

“Really?” I say, surprised and touched. “Wow.”

“It was such a happy day!” She bites her lip. “And you looked so beautiful and I thought, ‘That’s what I want to look like when
I
get married.’ I actually thought Matthew would propose to me that day, but…he didn’t.” Her smile tightens.

“Jesus, Natalie,” mutters a guy across the table. “Not this again.”

“No! It’s fine!” she exclaims brightly. “We’re engaged now! It only took three years!” She flashes her diamond at me. “I’m having your dress! Exactly the same Vera Wang, in white—”

“Well done, Natalie!” Eric chimes in heartily. “I think we should move on…. Jon? Your turn.”

Across the table from me, Jon gets to his feet.

“Hi,” he says in his dry voice. “I’m Jon. We met earlier.” He lapses into silence.

“So, Jon?” prompts Eric. “What’s your memorable event involving Lexi?”

Jon surveys me for a moment with those dark, intense eyes, and I find myself wondering what he’s going to say. He scratches his neck, frowns, and takes a slug of wine, as though thinking hard. At last he spreads his arms. “Nothing comes to mind.”

“Nothing?” I’m slightly stung, despite myself.

“Anything at all!” Eric says encouragingly. “Just some special moment the two of you shared…”

Everyone is watching Jon. He frowns again, then shrugs, apparently stumped.

“I don’t recall anything,” he says at last. “Nothing I could describe.”

“There must be
something,
Jon,” a girl opposite says eagerly. “It could trigger her memory!”

“I doubt it.” He gives a brief half-smile.

“Well, all right,” says Eric, sounding a bit impatient. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s move on.”

By the time everyone around the table has stood up and recounted their anecdote, I’ve forgotten who the first people were. But it’s a start, I suppose. Gianna and her helper serve tuna carpaccio, arugula salad, and baked pears, and I talk to someone called Ralph about his divorce settlement. And then the plates are cleared, and Gianna is making her way around the table, taking coffee orders.

“I’ll make the coffee,” I say, jumping up. “You’ve done so much tonight, Gianna. Have a break.”

I’ve grown increasingly uncomfortable seeing her and her niece scurrying around the table with heavy plates. And the way no one even looks at them as they take their food. And the way that awful man Charlie barked at her when he wanted some more water. It’s so
rude.

“Lexi!” Eric says with a laugh. “That’s hardly necessary.”

“I want to,” I say stubbornly. “Gianna, sit down. Have a biscuit or something. I can easily make a few cups of coffee. Really, I insist.”

Gianna looks perplexed. “I’ll go and turn down your bed,” she says at last, and heads off toward the bedroom, her niece in her wake.

That’s not exactly what I meant by having a break. But anyway.

“There.” I smile around the table. “Now, who would like coffee? Hands up…” I start counting the hands. “And anyone for mint tea?”

“I’ll help,” Jon says suddenly, pushing his chair back.

“Oh,” I say, taken aback. “Well…okay. Thanks.”

I head into the kitchen, fill the kettle, and switch it on. Then I start looking in cupboards for cups. Maybe we have some special posh coffee cups for dinner parties. I briefly consult the marriage manual, but can’t find anything.

Meanwhile Jon is just pacing around the kitchen, his face screwed up as though in some distant daydream, not helping at all.

“Are you okay?” I say at last, with a flash of irritation. “I don’t suppose you know where the coffee cups are, do you?”

Jon doesn’t even seem to hear the question.

“Hello?” I wave at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be helping?”

At last he stops pacing and regards me, an even stranger expression on his face.

“I don’t know how to tell you this,” he says. “So I’m just going to tell you.” He takes a breath—then he seems to change his mind and comes over close, studying my face. “You really don’t remember? This isn’t some kind of game you’re playing with me?”

“Remember
what
?” I say, totally bewildered.

“Okay, okay.” He turns and resumes pacing, thrusting his hands through his dark hair, leaving it spiky on top. At last he turns to face me again. “Here’s the thing. I love you.”

“What?” I look at him in confusion.

“And you love me,” he continues, without giving me time to say anything more. “We’re lovers.”

“Sweetie!” The door bursts open and Rosalie’s face appears. “Two more orders for mint tea and a decaf for Clive.”

“Coming up!” I say, my voice sounding strangled.

Rosalie disappears and the kitchen door swings shut. There’s silence between us, the most prickling silence I’ve ever known. I can’t move or speak. My eyes keep flicking ludicrously to the marriage manual still lying on the counter, as though the answer might be in there.

Jon follows my gaze.

“I’m guessing,” he says in a dry, confidential tone, “that I’m not in the manual.”

Okay. I have to get a grip.

“I…don’t understand,” I say, trying to summon some composure. “What do you mean, lovers? You’re trying to tell me we’ve been having an
affair
?”

“We’ve been seeing each other for eight months.” His dark gaze is fixed on me. “You’re planning to leave Eric for me.”

I can’t stop a gurgle of laughter. At once I clap my hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude, but…leave Eric? For
you
?”

Before Jon can react, the door opens again.

“Hi, Lexi!” A red-faced man comes in. “Can I grab some more sparkling water?”

“Here.” I thrust two bottles into his arms. The door closes again and Jon shoves his hands in his pockets.

“You were about to tell Eric you couldn’t be with him anymore,” he says, speaking faster. “You were about to leave him. We’d made plans….” He breaks off and exhales. “Then you had the accident.”

His face is deadly serious. He really means all this.

“But…that’s ludicrous!”

For an instant Jon looks like I’ve hit him. “Ludicrous?”

“Yes, ludicrous! I’m not the unfaithful type. Plus, I have a great marriage, a fantastic husband, I’m happy—”

“You’re not happy with Eric.” Jon interrupts me. “Believe me.”

“Of course I’m happy with Eric!” I say in astonishment. “He’s lovely! He’s perfect!”

“Perfect?”
Jon looks as if he’s trying to stop himself from going further. “Lexi, he’s not perfect.”