Remember Me? (6 page)

I’m speechless. I’m beyond speechless. This cannot be my baby sister.

But it is. Amy’s turned into a tall, sassy teenager. Practically an adult. As she saunters around the room, picking things up and putting them down, I’m mesmerized by the height of her. The
confidence
of her.

“Is there any food here? I’m starving.” She has the same sweet, husky voice she always did—but modulated. Cooler and more street-wise.

“Mum’s getting me some lunch. You can share if you like.”

“Great.” She sits down in a chair and swings her long legs over the arm, displaying gray suede ankle boots with spiky heels. “So, you don’t remember anything? That’s so cool.”

“It’s not cool,” I retort. “It’s horrible. I remember up to just before Dad’s funeral…and then it just goes fuzzy. I don’t remember my first few days in hospital, either. It’s like I woke up for the first time last night.”

“Way out.” Her eyes are wide. “So, you don’t remember me visiting you before?”

“No. All I remember is you being twelve. With your ponytail and braces. And those cute hair clips you used to wear.”

“Don’t remind me.” Amy mimes puking, then frowns in thought. “So…let me get this straight. The whole of the last three years is a total blank.”

“Like a big black hole. And even before that it’s a bit foggy. Apparently I’m
married
?” I laugh nervously. “I had no idea! Were you a bridesmaid at the wedding or anything?”

“Yeah,” she says distractedly. “It was cool. Hey, Lexi, I don’t want to bring this up when you’re feeling so ill and everything, but…” She twists a strand of hair, looking awkward.

“What?” I look at her in surprise. “Tell me.”

“Well, it’s just that you owe me seventy quid.” She shrugs apologetically. “You borrowed it last week when your cash card wasn’t working and you said you’d pay me back. I don’t suppose you’ll remember…”

“Oh,” I say, taken aback. “Of course. Just help yourself.” I gesture at the Louis Vuitton bag. “I don’t know if there’s any cash in there…”

“There will be,” Amy says, swiftly unzipping it with a tiny smile. “Thanks!” She pockets the notes and swings her legs over the arm of the chair again, playing with her collection of silver bangles. Then she looks up, suddenly alert. “Wait a minute. Do you know about—” She stops herself.

“What?”

She surveys me with narrowed, disbelieving eyes. “No one’s told you, have they?”

“Told me what?”

“
Jesus.
I suppose they’re trying to break things to you gradually, but, I mean…” She shakes her head, nibbling her nails. “Personally, I think you should know sooner rather than later.”

“Know what?” I feel a beat of alarm. “What, Amy? Tell me!”

For a moment Amy seems to debate with herself, then she gets up.

“Wait here.” She disappears for a few moments. Then the door opens again and she reappears, clutching an Asian-looking baby about a year old. He’s wearing overalls and holding a beaker of juice, and he gives me a sunny smile.

“This is Lennon,” she says, her expression softening. “This is your son.”

I stare at them both, frozen in terror. What’s she talking about?

“I guess you don’t remember?” Amy strokes his hair fondly. “You adopted him from Vietnam six months ago. It was quite a story, actually. You had to smuggle him out in your rucksack. You nearly got arrested!”

I adopted a baby?

I feel cold to my guts. I can’t be a mum. I’m not ready. I don’t know anything about babies.

“Say hello to your child!” She carts him over to the bed, clicking in her spiky heels. “He calls you Moo-mah, by the way.”

Moo-mah?

“Hi, Lennon,” I say at last, my voice stiff with self-consciousness. “It’s…it’s Moo-mah!” I try to adopt a motherly, cooing voice. “Come to Moo-mah!”

I look up to see Amy’s lips trembling strangely. Suddenly she gives a snort of laughter and claps a hand over her mouth. “Sorry!”

“Amy, what’s going on?” I stare at her, suspicion dawning. “Is this really my baby?”

“I saw him in the corridor before,” she splutters. “I couldn’t resist it. Your face!” She’s in paroxysms of laughter. “‘Come to Moo-mah!’”

I can hear muffled cries and shouts coming from outside the door.

“That must be his parents!” I hiss in consternation. “You bloody little…Put him
back
!”

I collapse on my pillows in relief, my heart pounding. Thank fuck. I don’t have a child.

And I cannot get over Amy. She used to be so sweet and innocent. She used to watch
Barbie Sleeping Beauty
over and over with her thumb in her mouth. What’s
happened
to her?

“I nearly had a heart attack,” I say reproachfully as she comes back in, holding a can of diet Coke. “If I died, it would be your fault.”

“Well, you need to get savvy,” she retorts with an unrepentant grin. “People could feed you all kinds of bullshit.”

She takes out a stick of chewing gum and starts unwrapping it. Then she leans forward.

“Hey, Lexi,” she says in a low voice. “Have you really got amnesia or are you just making it up? I won’t tell.”

“
What?
Why would I make it up?”

“I thought there might be something you wanted to get out of. Like a dentist’s appointment.”

“No! This is genuine!”

“Okay. Whatever.” She shrugs and offers me the gum.

“No, thanks.” I wrap my arms around my knees, suddenly daunted. Amy’s right. People could take total advantage of me. I have so much to learn and I don’t even know where to start.

Well, I could start with the obvious.

“So.” I try to sound casual. “What’s my husband like? What does he…look like?”

“Wow.” Amy’s eyes open wide. “Of course! You have no idea what he’s like!”

“Mum said he was nice…” I try to hide my apprehension.

“He is lovely.” She nods seriously. “He has a real sense of humor. And they’re going to operate on his hump.”

“Yeah. Nice try, Amy.” I roll my eyes.

“Lexi! He’d be really hurt if he heard that!” Amy looks taken aback. “This is 2007. We don’t discriminate because of looks. And Eric is such a sweet, loving guy. It’s not
his
fault his back was damaged when he was a baby. And he’s achieved so much. He’s awe-inspiring.”

Now I’m hot with shame. Maybe my husband does have a hump. I shouldn’t be hump-ist. Whatever he looks like, I’m sure I chose him for a very good reason.

“Can he walk?” I ask nervously.

“He walked for the first time at your wedding,” says Amy, her eyes distant with memory. “He got up out of his wheelchair to say his vows. Everyone was in tears…the vicar could hardly speak….” Her mouth is twitching again.

“You little cow!” I exclaim. “He doesn’t bloody well have a hump, does he?”

“I’m sorry.” She starts giggling helplessly. “But this is
such
a good game.”

“It’s not a game!” I clutch at my hair, forgetting my injuries, and wince. “It’s my life. I have no idea who my husband is, or how I met him, or anything….”

“Okay.” She appears to relent. “What happened was, you got talking to this grizzled old tramp on the street. And his name was Eric—”

“Shut up! If you won’t tell me, I’ll ask Mum.”

“All right!” She lifts her hands in surrender. “You seriously want to know?”

“Yes!”

“Okay, then. You met him on a TV show.”

“Try again.” I lift my eyes to heaven.

“It’s true! I’m not bullshitting now. You were on that reality show
Ambition
. Where people want to get to the top in business. He was one of the judges and you were a contestant. You didn’t get very far on the show, but you met Eric, and you hit it off.”

There’s silence. I’m waiting for her to crack up laughing and produce some punch line, but she just swigs from the can of diet Coke.

“I was on a reality show?” I say skeptically.

“Yeah. It was really cool. All my friends watched, and we all voted for you. You should have won!”

I eye her closely, but her face is totally serious. Is she telling the truth? Was I really on the
telly
?

“Why on earth did I go on a show like that?”

“To be the boss?” Amy shrugs. “To get ahead. That’s when you had your teeth and hair done, to look good on TV.”

“But I’m not ambitious. I mean, I’m not
that
ambitious…”

“Are you kidding?” Amy opens her eyes wide. “You’re, like, the most ambitious person in the world! As soon as your boss resigned you went for his job. All the bigwigs at your company had seen you on telly and they were really impressed. So they gave it to you.”

My mind flashes back to those business cards in my diary.
Lexi Smart, Director
.

“You’re the youngest director they’ve ever had in the company. It was so cool when you got the job,” Amy adds. “We all went out to celebrate, and you bought us all champagne…” She pulls her chewing gum out of her mouth in a long strand. “You don’t remember
any
of this?”

“No! Nothing!”

The door opens and Mum appears, holding a tray bearing a covered plate, a pot of chocolate mousse, and a glass of water.

“Here we are,” she says. “I’ve brought you some lasagne. And guess what? Eric’s here!”

“Here?”
The blood drains from my face. “D’you mean…here in the hospital?”

Mum nods. “He’s on his way up right now to see you! I told him to give you a few moments to get ready.”

A few
moments
? I need more than a few moments. This is all happening way too fast. I’m not even ready to be twenty-eight yet. Let alone meet some husband I allegedly have.

“Mum, I’m not sure I can do this,” I say, panicked. “I mean…I don’t feel up to meeting him yet. Maybe I should see him tomorrow. When I’m a bit more adjusted.”

“Lexi, darling!” remonstrates Mum. “You can’t turn your husband away. He’s rushed here from his business especially to see you!”

“But I don’t know him! I won’t know what to say or what to do…”

“Darling, he’s your
husband
.” She pats my hand reassuringly. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“He might trigger your memory,” chimes in Amy, who has helped herself to the chocolate mousse pot and is ripping the top off. “You might see him and go ‘Eric! My love! It all comes back to me!’”

“Shut up,” I snap. “And that’s
my
chocolate mousse.”

“You don’t eat carbs,” she retorts. “Have you forgotten that too?” She waves the spoon tantalizingly in front of my face.

“Nice try, Amy,” I say, rolling my eyes. “There’s no way I would ever have given up chocolate.”

“You
never
eat chocolate anymore. Does she, Mum? You didn’t eat any of your own wedding cake because of the calories!”

She has to be bullshitting me. I wouldn’t have given up chocolate, not in a million years. I’m about to tell her to piss off and hand over the mousse, when there’s a knock at the door and a muffled male voice calls, “Hello?”

“Oh my God.” I look wildly from face to face. “Oh my God. Is that him? Already?”

“Hold on a moment, Eric!” Mum calls through the door, then she whispers to me. “Tidy yourself up a bit, sweetheart! You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge.”

“Give her a break, Mum,” says Amy. “She was dragged through the wreckage of a
car,
remember?”

“I’ll just comb your hair quickly…” Mum comes over with a tiny handbag comb and starts jerking at my head.

“Ow!” I protest. “You’ll make my amnesia worse!”

“There.” She gives a final tug, and wipes at my face with the corner of a hanky. “Ready?”

“Shall I open the door?” says Amy.

“No! Just…wait a sec.”

My stomach is churning in dread. I can’t meet some total stranger who’s apparently my husband. It’s just…too freaky.

“Mum, please.” I turn to her. “It’s too soon. Tell him to come back later. Tomorrow. Or we could leave it a few weeks, even.”

“Don’t be silly, darling!” Mum laughs. How can she
laugh
? “He’s your husband. And you’ve just been in a car accident and he’s been worried sick, and we’ve kept him waiting long enough, poor chap!”

As Mum heads toward the door I’m gripping the sheets so hard, the blood is squashed out of my fingertips.

“What if I hate him? What if there’s no chemistry between us?” My voice shoots out in terror. “I mean, does he expect me to go back and
live
with him?”

“Just play it by ear,” Mum says vaguely. “Really, Lexi, there’s nothing to worry about. He’s
very
nice.”

“As long as you don’t mention his toupee,” puts in Amy. “Or his Nazi past.”

“Amy!” Mum clicks her tongue in reproof and opens the door. “Eric! I’m so sorry to keep you. Come in.”

There’s an unbearably long pause. Then into the room, carrying an enormous bouquet of flowers, walks the most drop-dead gorgeous man I’ve ever seen.

Chapter 5

I can’t speak. All I can do is gaze up at him, a bubble of disbelief rising inside me. This man is seriously, achingly good-looking. Like, Armani model good-looking. He has medium-brown curly hair, cropped short. He has blue eyes, broad shoulders, and an expensive-looking suit. He has a square jaw, impeccably shaved.

How did I land this guy? How? How?
How?

“Hi,” he says, and his voice is all deep and rounded like an actor’s.

“Hi!” I manage breathlessly.

Look at his huge chest. He must work out every day. And look at his polished shoes, and his designer watch…

My eyes drift back to his hair. I never thought I’d marry someone with curly hair. Funny, that. Not that I have anything
against
curly hair. I mean, on him it looks fabulous.

“My darling.” He strides to the bed in a rustle of expensive flowers. “You look so much better than yesterday.”

“I feel fine. Um…thanks very much.” I take the bouquet from him. It’s the most amazing, trendy designer-looking bouquet I’ve ever seen, all shades of white and taupe. Where on earth do you get
taupe
roses?

“So…you’re Eric?” I add, just to be one hundred percent sure.

I can see the shock reverberate through his face, but he manages a smile. “Yes. That’s right. I’m Eric. You still don’t know me?”

“Not really. In fact…not at all.”

“I told you,” Mum chips in, shaking her head. “I’m
so
sorry, Eric. But I’m sure she’ll remember soon, if she makes a real effort.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I shoot her an affronted look.

“Well, darling,” she says, “these things are all a matter of willpower, I’ve read. Mind over matter.”

“I’m trying to remember, okay?” I say indignantly. “You think I
want
to be like this?”

“We’ll take it slowly,” Eric says, ignoring Mum. He sits down on the bed. “Let’s see if we can trigger some memories. May I?” He gestures toward my hand.

“Um…yes. Okay.” I nod, and he takes my hand in his. It’s a nice hand, warm and firm. But it’s a stranger’s hand.

“Lexi, it’s me,” he says in firm, resonant tones. “It’s Eric. Your husband. We’ve been married for nearly two years.”

I’m too mesmerized to reply. He’s even better-looking up close. His skin is really smooth and tan, and his teeth are a perfect gleaming white…

Oh my God—I’ve had sex with this man
shoots through my mind.

He’s seen me naked. He’s ripped my underwear off. We’ve done who-knows-what together and I don’t even
know
him. At least…I assume he’s ripped my underwear off and we’ve done who-knows-what. I can’t exactly ask, with Mum in the room.

I wonder what he’s like in bed. Surreptitiously I run my eyes over his body. Well, I married him. He must be pretty good, surely….

“Is something on your mind?” Eric has noticed my wandering gaze. “Darling, if you have any questions, just ask away….”

“Nothing!” I flush. “Nothing. Sorry. Carry on.”

“We met nearly three years ago,” Eric continues, “at a reception at Pyramid TV. They make
Ambition,
the reality show we were both involved in. We were attracted instantly. We were married in June and honeymooned in Paris. We had a suite at the George V. It was wonderful. We went to Montmartre, we visited the Louvre, we had café au lait every morning….” He breaks off. “Do you recall any of this?”

“Not really,” I say, feeling guilty. “Sorry.”

Maybe Mum’s right. I should try harder to remember. Come on. Paris. The
Mona Lisa.
Men with stripy shirts.
Think.
I cast my mind back, desperately trying to match his face with images of Paris, to trigger some memory….

“Did we go up the Eiffel Tower?” I say at last.

“Yes!” His face lights up. “Are you starting to remember? We stood in the breeze and took photos of each other—”

“No.” I cut him off. “I just guessed. You know, Paris…Eiffel Tower…it seemed quite likely.”

“Ah.” He nods with obvious disappointment, and we lapse into silence. To my slight relief, there’s a knock at the door and I call out, “Come in!”

Nicole enters, holding a clipboard. “Just need to do a quick blood pressure check—” She breaks off as she sees Eric holding my hand. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Don’t worry!” I say. “This is Nicole, one of the nurses who’s been looking after me.” I gesture around the room. “This is my mum, and sister…and my husband, who’s called”—I meet her eyes significantly—“Eric.”

“Eric!”
Nicole’s eyes light up. “Very nice to meet you, Eric.”

“It’s a pleasure.” Eric nods at her. “I’m eternally grateful to you for looking after my wife.”

Wife.
My stomach flips over at the word. I’m his wife. This is all so grownup. I bet we have a mortgage, too. And a burglar alarm.

“My pleasure.” Nicole gives him a professional smile. “Lexi’s a great patient.” She wraps the blood pressure cuff around my arm and turns to face me. “I’ll just pump this up….”

“
He’s gorgeous!
” she mouths, giving me a surreptitious thumbs-up, and I can’t help beaming back.

It’s true. My husband is officially gorgeous. I’ve never even had a
date
with anyone in his league before. Let alone get married to them. Let alone go and eat croissants in the George V hotel.

“I’d very much like to make a donation to the hospital,” Eric says to Nicole, his deep, actory voice filling the room. “If you have any special appeal or fund…”

“That would be wonderful!” exclaims Nicole. “We’ve got an appeal right now for a new scanner.”

“Maybe I could run the marathon for it?” he suggests. “I run every year for a different cause.”

I’m nearly bursting with pride. None of my other boyfriends has ever run the marathon. Loser Dave could barely make it from the sofa to the TV.

“Well!” says Nicole, raising her eyebrows as she lets the blood pressure cuff deflate. “It’s a real pleasure to meet you, Eric. Lexi, your pressure looks fine…” She writes something on my notes. “Is that your lunch there?” she adds, noticing the untouched tray.

“Oh yes. I forgot all about it.”

“You must eat. And I’m going to ask everyone not to stay
too
much longer.” She turns to Mum and Amy. “I know you want to spend time with Lexi, but she’s still fragile. She needs to take it easy.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes.” Eric clasps my hand. “I just want my wife well again.”

Mum and Amy start to gather their things—but he stays put.

“I’d like a few moments, just the two of us,” he says. “If that’s okay, Lexi?”

“Oh,” I say with a dart of apprehension. “Er…fine!”

Mum and Amy both come over to hug me good-bye, and Mum makes another quick attempt to straighten my hair. Then the door closes behind them and I’m left alone with Eric, in a still, strange silence.

“So,” Eric says at last.

“So. This is…weird.” I attempt a little laugh, which immediately peters out to nothing. Eric is gazing at me, his brow furrowed.

“Have the doctors said whether you’ll ever retrieve your memories?”

“They think I will. But they don’t know when.”

Eric gets up and strides to the window, appearing lost in thought. “So it’s a waiting game,” he says at last. “Is there anything I can do to speed the process?”

“I don’t know,” I say helplessly. “Maybe you could tell me some more about us and our relationship?”

“Absolutely. Good idea.” He turns, his frame silhouetted against the window. “What do you want to know about? Ask me anything at all.”

“Well…where do we live?”

“We live in Kensington in a loft-style apartment.” He proclaims the words as though they’re capitalized. “That’s my business. Loft-style living.” As he says the phrase
loft-style living
he makes a sweeping, parallel-hands gesture, as though he’s moving bricks along a conveyor belt.

Wow. We live in Kensington! I cast around for another question to ask, but it all seems so arbitrary, like I’m padding out time in an interview.

“What sort of things do we do together?” I say eventually.

“We eat fine food, we watch movies…We went to the ballet last week. Had dinner at The Ivy afterward.”

“The Ivy?” I can’t help gasping. I’ve been to dinner at The Ivy?

Why
can’t I remember any of this? I shut my eyes tightly, trying to mentally kick-start my brain into action. But…nothing.

At last I open my eyes again, feeling a bit dizzy, to see Eric has noticed the rings on the cabinet. “That’s your wedding ring, isn’t it?” He looks up, puzzled. “Why is it here?”

“They took it off for the scans,” I explain.

“Shall I?” He picks up the ring and takes hold of my left hand.

I feel a sudden prickle of alarm.

“I…um…no…” Before I can stop myself I yank my hand away and Eric flinches. “I’m sorry,” I say after an awkward pause. “I’m really sorry. I just…you’re a stranger.”

“Of course.” Eric has turned away, still holding the ring. “Of course. Stupid of me.”

Oh God, he looks really hurt. I shouldn’t have said “stranger.” I should have said “friend I haven’t met yet.”

“I’m really sorry, Eric.” I bite my lip. “I do want to know you and…love you and everything. You must be a really wonderful person or I wouldn’t have married you. And you look really good,” I add encouragingly. “I wasn’t expecting anyone nearly so handsome. I mean, my last boyfriend wasn’t a
patch
on you.”

I look up to see Eric staring at me.

“It’s strange,” he says at last. “You’re not yourself. The doctors warned me, but I didn’t realize it would be so…extreme.” For a moment he looks almost overcome, then his shoulders straighten. “Anyway, we’ll get you right again. I know we will.” He carefully puts the ring back on the cabinet, sits down on the bed, and takes my hand. “And just so you know, Lexi…I love you.”

“
Really?”
I beam delightedly before I can stop myself. “I mean…fab. Thanks very much!”

None of my boyfriends has ever said “I love you” like that—i.e., properly, in the middle of the day, like a grownup, and not just pissed or while having sex. I have to reciprocate. What shall I say?

I love you too.

No.

I probably love you too.

No.

“Eric, I’m sure I love you too, deep down somewhere,” I say at last, clasping his hand. “And I’ll remember. Maybe not today. And maybe not tomorrow. But…we’ll always have Paris.” I pause, thinking this through. “At least, you’ll have it. And you can tell me about it.”

Eric looks slightly mystified.

“Eat your lunch and take a rest.” He pats my shoulder. “I’ll leave you in peace.”

“Maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow and remember everything,” I say hopefully as he gets to his feet.

“Let’s hope.” He scans my face for a moment or two. “But even if you don’t, my darling, we’ll sort this out. Deal?”

“Deal.” I nod.

“See you later.”

He lets himself out quietly. I sit still in the silence for a moment. My head’s starting to throb again and I’m a bit dazed. It’s all too much. Amy has blue hair and Brad Pitt has a love child with Angelina Jolie and I have a gorgeous husband who just said he loves me. I’m half-expecting to go to sleep and wake up back in 2004, hungover on Carolyn’s floor, and find this was all a dream.