Sometimes I Lie(5)

She wraps something around my upper left arm and I conclude it is a tourniquet as it tightens on my flesh. She gently puts my arm back down and walks around to the other side. The second nurse, I presume that’s who they are, stands at the end of my bed. I hear the sound of paper being manipulated by inquisitive fingers and I imagine that she is either reading a novel or my hospital file down there. The sounds sharpen themselves.

‘Last one to hand over, then you can skedaddle. What happened to this one?’ asks the woman closest to me.

‘Came in late last night. Some sort of accident,’ replies the other, she is moving as she speaks. ‘Let’s get some daylight in here, shall we, see if we can’t cheer things up a bit?’ I hear the scratchy sound of curtains being reluctantly drawn back and find myself enveloped in a brighter shade of gloom. Then, without warning, something sharp stabs my arm. It is an alien sensation and the pain pulls me inside of myself. I feel something cool swim beneath my skin, snaking into my body until it becomes a part of me. Their voices bring me back.

‘Have they called the next of kin?’ asks the older-sounding one.

‘There’s a husband. Tried several times, straight to voicemail,’ replies the other. ‘You’d think he’d have noticed his wife was missing on Christmas Day.’

Christmas Day.

I scan my library of memories, but too many of the shelves are empty. I don’t remember anything about Christmas. We normally spend it with my family.

Why is nobody with me?

I notice that my mouth feels terribly dry and I can taste stale blood. I’d give anything for some water and wonder how I can get their attention. I focus all of myself on my mouth, on forming a shape and making a dent, however tiny, in the deafening silence, but nothing comes. I am a ghost trapped inside myself.

‘Right, well, I’m off home, if you’re happy?’

‘See you later, say hi to Jeff.’

The door swings open and I can hear a radio in the distance. The sound of a familiar voice reaches my ears.

‘She works on Coffee Morning, by the way, they found her work pass in her bag when they brought her in,’ says the nurse who is leaving.

‘Does she now? Never heard of her.’

I can hear you!

The door swings shut, the silence returns and then I am gone, I am not there any more, I am silently screaming in the darkness that has swallowed me.

What has happened to me?

Despite my internal cries, on the outside I am voiceless and perfectly still. In real life I’m paid to talk on the radio but now I am silenced, now I am nothing. The darkness churns my thoughts until the sound of the door opening again makes everything stop. I presume that the second nurse is leaving me too and I want to shout out, to beg her to stay, to explain I’m just a little lost down the rabbit hole and need some help finding my way back. But she is not leaving. Someone else has entered the room. I can smell him, I can hear him crying and I sense his overwhelming terror at the sight of me.

‘I’m so sorry, Amber. I’m here now.’

He holds my hand a little too tightly. I am the one who has lost myself, he lost me years ago and now I will not be found. The remaining nurse departs, to give us space or privacy or perhaps just because she can sense the situation is too uncomfortable, that something is not as it should be. I don’t want her to go, I don’t want her to leave me alone with him, but I don’t know why.

‘Can you hear me? Please wake up,’ he says, over and over.

My mind recoils from the sound of his voice. The vice tightens around my skull once more, as though a thousand fingers are pushing at my temples. I can’t remember what happened to me, but I know, with unwavering certainty, that this man, my husband, had something to do with it.





Then

Monday, 19th December 2016 – Afternoon


I was grateful at first, when Matthew said I could take the rest of the day off. The team had already scattered for lunch, which meant I could avoid any questions or fake concern. It’s only now, as I make my way along Oxford Street, like a salmon swimming against a tide of tourists and shoppers, that I realise he did it for himself; no man wants to sit and stare at a woman’s tear-stained face, knowing that he’s responsible.

Despite being a December afternoon, the sky is bright blue, the sun pushing its way through the scattered unborn clouds to create the illusion of a nice day against a backdrop of haze and doubt. I just need to stop and think, so I do. Right in the middle of the crowded street to the annoyance of everyone else.

‘Amber?’

I look up at the smiling face of a tall man standing right in front of me. At first, nothing comes, but then a flicker of recognition, followed by a flood of memories: Edward.

‘Hi, how are you?’ I manage.

‘I’m great. It’s so good to see you.’

He kisses me on the cheek. I shouldn’t care what I look like, but I wrap my arms around myself as though I’m trying to hide. I notice he looks almost exactly the same. He’s hardly aged at all, despite the ten years it must have been since I last saw him. He’s tanned, as though he’s just come back from somewhere hot, flecks of blond in his brown hair, no hint of grey. He looks so healthy, clean, still uncommonly comfortable in his own bronzed skin. His clothes look new, expensive and I expect the suit beneath the long woollen coat is handmade. The world was always too small for him.