Fractured(46)

‘And that would be…?’

I gave a deep sigh and looked at the words on the sheet before me that meant absolutely nothing to me.

‘It’s where I live’ – I paused, as though in court – ‘allegedly.’

I tried to appear relaxed, but as the motorway ate up mile after mile I began to get more and more nervous. Going into London, to where I lived and worked, was my last hope of reclaiming my real life. But it was only now that I stopped to contemplate what exactly I would find when I got there. There were keys in my bag which I didn’t recognise. Presumably they would fit the door of the address my father had given me that morning. But what of my other home, the flat I lived in above the launderette? What would everyone say when that too proved to be mine? Filled with belongings and paraphernalia from another life entirely. Could they both exist side by side? How could that even be possible?

A word began to whisper in my mind. A word much more scary and unknown than the dreaded amnesia one: schizophrenia. Couldn’t that take the form of multiple personalities? All at once I was convinced I had read an article quite recently about that very subject. Could that be what I was suffering from? Was I actually mentally ill?

To silence the voice, I grabbed on to any random thought to fill the silence.

‘Jimmy, I never thought to ask before now: are you married?’

Our car swerved slightly in its lane, earning an angry beep from the lorry behind us.

‘Married? Er, no. Where did that come from? Don’t you think you would know by now if I was?’

I shrugged. ‘Not necessarily. I didn’t know I was engaged.’

‘Point taken.’

A further mile clicked onto the clock on the dashboard before I pursued it again. ‘So, is there anyone on the scene?’

He laughed softly under his breath but said nothing, which only piqued my curiosity more.

‘Girlfriend? Lover? Boyfriend?’

‘No, no and definitely no, thank you very much.’

‘Why not?’

‘What are you asking me? Why aren’t I gay?’

I gave his arm a gentle nudge. ‘You know what I’m asking. Why is there no one? You’re a great guy. You’d make a terrific partner for someone. How come you’re alone?’

For the first time he looked uncomfortable and it surprised me that I had ventured too far into forbidden territory. There was a time when nowhere was out of bounds. But perhaps it was all different now.

‘The job, for one: long hours, weird shifts. It doesn’t help a relationship. Or maybe I just prefer it this way.’

I felt there was more to be asked here, more that he wasn’t saying, but perhaps this wasn’t the time, so I let the subject drop, to his obvious relief.

By then we were winding through the back streets of London, and it took us longer than we had thought to locate the address we were seeking. Eventually, after several wrong turns, we pulled up in front of an ornately porticoed converted Victorian building.

‘Here we are,’ announced Jimmy, swinging the car into a vacant parking bay in the small courtyard at the front of the building. ‘Home.’

‘Not mine,’ I muttered bleakly, but nevertheless reached for the handle and got out of the car. I stood for a moment in the cold morning air, looking up at the totally unfamiliar building. There was nothing whatsoever about it that looked even remotely familiar.

‘Come on then, let’s go check it out.’ He reached out his hand, and with obvious reluctance I allowed him to lead me towards the building’s stone steps.

I thought we were going to be stymied at the first hurdle, for as we neared the entrance we could see that the building had a security door with a keypad entry system to gain access. I halted halfway up the three shallow steps.

‘That’s that then,’ I proclaimed, and knew the relief in my voice was obvious.

‘Not so fast,’ Jimmy urged, continuing to pull me towards the door. At that precise moment a blue-uniformed nurse appeared on the inside of the glass entrance, clearly hurrying to exit the building. As she opened the door, Jimmy hurried up the steps to catch it before it closed behind her. The nurse eyed him suspiciously for a moment, then saw me and clearly decided not to challenge our entry.

‘Thank you,’ said Jimmy as we passed the nurse on the threshold.

Automatically I too voiced our gratitude, ‘Yes, thanks.’

She was through the doorway and already descending the stone steps before she called out cheerfully over her shoulder.

‘No problem, Rachel.’


We were both silent in the lift as it ascended. And the tension followed us out when the doors slid open on the fifth floor. The corridor spread before us, leading both to the left and the right.