Chapter 12
‘Robyn Parker?’
She let her eyes drop from the TV set suspended high in the corner of the room to the young woman in the white coat standing at the end of her bed. She was holding a clipboard, waiting for a response. She wasn’t going to get one.
‘I’m Dr Jamieson,’ the woman in the white coat continued. ‘I want to speak to you about—’
‘Robyn.’ A man’s voice interrupted.
She turned her head away from the doctor and looked at the young man standing in the doorway.
‘David.’ She smiled and held out her hand as he entered the room, a couple of magazines tucked under his arm and a bouquet of flowers behind his back. She could see them but pretended she couldn’t.
‘How are you today?’ He clasped her hand. ‘I got you these.’ He put the magazines on her bed, and then, with a flourish, withdrew his hand from behind his back.
She did her best to act surprised.
‘Shall I put them in a vase?’ he asked. He glanced around the room and then caught sight of the doctor standing with her arms folded at the end of the bed.
‘Oh.’ He stopped when he saw the doctor. ‘Excuse me.’ He looked back at Robyn. ‘Is everything OK?’ he asked anxiously.
‘I need to speak with Robyn.’ The doctor unfolded her arms. ‘So, if you don’t mind …’ She indicated the door.
‘No – he can stay,’ Robyn said abruptly, giving the doctor a look of defiance. ‘Why am I still here? The nurse said I had to stay in for observation.’
David walked around the bed, taking a seat by the window. Robyn smiled at him.
Dr Jamieson glanced at David. ‘You were at the scene of the accident, weren’t you?’
He nodded. ‘Yep. Piece of luck, being in the right place at the right time like that.’ David smiled.
‘Yes, it was,’ Dr Jamieson said flatly. She continued to look at him. His smile faded in the awkward silence.
‘Maybe I should leave.’ He got up.
‘No.’ Robyn shook her head. ‘Please don’t go.’
The doctor spoke to David again. ‘Do you mind if I ask you how long you and Robyn have been seeing each other?’
‘Seeing each other?’ David repeated. ‘You mean like dating?’ He looked at Robyn. They both laughed.
Dr Jamieson frowned.
‘I’ve been seeing Robyn since yesterday. We aren’t dating. Although,’ he looked at Robyn, ‘I suppose if you call visiting a very pretty lady in hospital on Boxing Day dating , then …’
Robyn leaned over and slapped him playfully on the arm.
‘So you two didn’t know each other before the accident yesterday?’
‘Never seen her before in my life.’ David winked at Robyn playfully. ‘Although I wish I had.’
‘In that case, Robyn and I will need to speak privately.’
They both looked at her, then exchanged glances. David got up. ‘I’ll go and get myself a coffee.’
Dr Jamieson nodded.
He squeezed Robyn’s hand, then left.
Dr Jamieson pulled up a chair and sat down by the side of Robyn’s bed. She tapped the clipboard.
Robyn’s stomach churned. She touched the bandage on her forehead. ‘It’s a brain tumour, isn’t it?’
‘No it isn’t, Robyn – nothing like that. It’s a bump on the head.’
‘Then why—?’
‘The memory loss?’ Dr Jamieson finished.
Robyn nodded.
‘The head trauma has, in your case, led to temporary amnesia. The CAT scan is back, and I can assure you it isn’t a tumour.’
Robyn sank back on the pillows, relieved. ‘But why can I remember everything since the accident, but nothing before it?’
Dr Jamieson didn’t answer.
‘And why can I remember how to eat, how to dress, all those things?’
Dr Jamieson sighed and leaned forward in her seat. ‘Despite all the advances in medical science, we are only beginning to understand the workings of the human mind. Sometimes people do lose their memories to such an extent that they have to be taught everything from scratch; reading, writing, even walking in some cases, usually as a result of some severe trauma to the head.’
Robyn ran her fingers along her bandage. ‘But mine wasn’t that bad?’
‘No.’ Dr Jamieson shook her head. ‘Some suffer from selective amnesia, which is probably the end of the spectrum that you fit into, where you can remember how to use a knife and fork, dress yourself, things like that, but for some reason memories of your past, people you knew, experiences you’ve had, are temporarily closed off to you.’
‘Selective?’ Robyn repeated.
‘Yes. In such circumstances, the theory is that the mind is choosing not to remember. It might not be physical.’
‘How do you mean?’ Robyn wasn’t sure she liked where this is leading.
‘Children who suffer a trauma in their childhood – maybe they were abused – often shut a door on that memory; bury it so deep in their subconscious that as adults they genuinely cannot remember the events that happened to them. It’s a psychological rather than a physical trauma that has caused their memory loss, and it is usually selective, involving those events that they can’t cope with and they need to forget – for now. It is possible that as adults we have the ability to protect ourselves, in the way a child’s mind can, from some traumatic event.’
Robyn was quiet for a moment, taking the information in. She fiddled with her bedsheet, smoothing it out on her lap. Without looking up, she said, ‘Are you saying that my memory loss is not to do with me hitting my head in the car accident?’
‘It’s a possibility, Robyn. Only you will be able to answer that. Give it time.’
Robyn looked up. ‘But how much time? I couldn’t even remember my own name.’
‘I can’t quantify that, Robyn. But something will trigger your memory; a familiar face, a place, your belongings even. There were letters in the car from your mother, some unopened. Perhaps you could read those. It might help. You know, you are a lot luckier than some. At least you had identification – of sorts.’
‘Of sorts?’
‘The police on the scene couldn’t find a handbag or purse, or your driving licence, but they did run a background check on the car, and your name came up as the owner.’
‘That’s lucky,’ said Robyn, although she wasn’t feeling particularly lucky. ‘What happened to my purse?’
‘I would imagine that some of your belongings got thrown from the car during the accident. The woodland is quite dense along that stretch of road. Although the police couldn’t find it, perhaps some hikers or dog walkers will come across a purse or handbag eventually.’
Robyn swallowed. She hoped her driving licence was in her purse. She’d be in trouble for driving with no licence if she couldn’t find it to show them if they wanted to see it.
‘Some people wake up with nothing – no clue as to who they are, and it can take them years to put all the pieces back into place.’
‘Years!’ said Robyn alarmed. ‘Are you saying …?’
‘That’s a worst-case scenario when there aren’t any familiar triggers. But take heart, Robyn – I’m sure yours will return soon. Just give it time. Try not to get anxious about it, and it will come.’
Robyn didn’t like her predicament, but then Dr Jamieson was right: she supposed she was luckier than some under the circumstances.
‘Robyn.’
She looked at the doctor.
‘There’s something else, isn’t there?’ Her stomach churned again.
‘This is difficult.’ The doctor paused.
Robyn stared at her intently.
‘Robyn, before the accident you may have been aware that—’ She halted. ‘It’s incidental now,’ she said, more to herself than to Robyn. She took a deep breath before she continued. ‘The memory loss complicates this.’
‘Complicates what?’ Robyn watched the doctor walk over and sit down in the chair by her bed.
She said softly, ‘You were pregnant, Robyn.’
‘I’m pregnant?’ Robyn said in alarm, involuntarily pushing herself up in the bed.
‘No.’ Dr Jamieson rested a hand on her shoulder. ‘I’m so sorry, but you lost the baby in the accident.’
Robyn stared straight ahead, unable to take it in.
Dr Jamieson continued. ‘I know this must be hard for you. You may have known you were pregnant, but it was in the very early stages.’
‘So I might have lost it anyway.’ Robyn turned to the doctor with pleading eyes.
‘According to David, it sounds as though you weren’t wearing a seatbelt and were nearly thrown from the car, so—’
Robyn held her hand up. The doctor didn’t have to say any more.
‘But yes, it was in the very early stages, so if it hadn’t been for the accident, you might not have carried it to full term anyway.’
Robyn knew the doctor was just being kind. She hadn’t worn her seatbelt, and she couldn’t even remember if she’d known she was pregnant.
‘The father?’ Robyn said in a quiet voice.
‘I can’t help you with that. But you see now why I had to ask David to leave the room.’
‘Yes, of course.’
Robyn watched Dr Jamieson get to her feet and pause by her bed. ‘Shall I send David in now?’
‘No.’ Robyn looked up at the young doctor. ‘Can you tell him I feel tired and that I’m resting?’
‘Alright, Robyn.’
‘Thank you.’
‘But that he can come back tomorrow if he likes,’ she added quickly. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing her only visitor.
‘Oh, I’m sure he’ll come back tomorrow. He knows how crummy being laid up in a hospital bed is.’
‘He does?’
‘He’s quite the local celebrity.’
‘How come?’
‘He’s our most famous sports star from this small town.’
‘Sport?’
‘Ice hockey.’
Robyn shook her head. She didn’t know anything about ice hockey. David had not talked about it.
‘Until he ended up back here with a shattered knee and a shattered career.’
‘I had no idea.’
‘It’s probably not the easiest thing in the world for him to talk about, having lost so much.’
‘You know David, then?’
‘We went to high school together, and we both got out of this small town – he did it on a scholarship, and I went to medical school in London. But we’ve both ended up back here. Mine’s a happier story, though. I chose to come back. After all those years of working hard to leave Scotland, once I’d left, I missed this part of the world. The Cairngorms, and the people, are just so lovely. So I came back.’
‘What about David? How does he feel about being back here?’
‘I don’t know. You’d have to ask him.’ There was a slight, almost undetectable edge to her voice, and Robyn wondered if the young doctor and David had a past.
For a moment, all Robyn’s worries seem to dissipate in the knowledge that hers wasn’t the only sad story. At least she could try to pick up the pieces of her life, even if she had lost part of her memory. It didn’t sound as though David would be so fortunate. She wanted to know more, but at that moment, the doctor’s bleeper went off. Robyn watched her lift the little black box from her trouser waistband and read the message.
‘Just a few more days, Robyn – then you’ll be free to go.’
Free to go where? thought Robyn as she watched the doctor walk to the door. All she knew was her name. But where had she come from, and where had she been going yesterday – Christmas Day?
Dr Jamieson stopped at the door. ‘I know it’s no fun at all spending Christmas in hospital. But merry Christmas anyway.’
‘But when can I leave the hospital?’ She watched the doctor flick through a file. ‘Can’t you be a bit more specific than a few more days ?’
Dr Jamieson looked up. ‘It’s Boxing Day. I will discharge you before New Year. All being well, in three days’ time – the day before New Year’s Eve.’
Robyn felt better on hearing a firm date for being able to leave the hospital. ‘Dr Jamieson?’ she called as the door was closing.
The door flew open. ‘What is it, Robyn?’
‘I would rather nobody knew about …’ The door was wide open and Robyn didn’t want to spell it out.
‘No one will know unless you choose to tell them.’ Dr Jamieson smiled reassuringly.
‘And my memory … I’d rather keep that to myself for the moment too.’
‘All right, Robyn. We don’t discuss patients’ medical histories unless it’s with another health professional. Although if the police have any questions, do I have your permission to tell them about your memory loss, if necessary?’
Robyn nodded, realising that if she was questioned, at least a medical professional would corroborate her story.
‘But if you’re asking whether I’ll tell David, of course nothing we’ve talked about leaves this room, unless you want it to.’
Robyn sighed in relief and sank back into her pillow. The doctor understood. She wanted to be reassured that the conversation would remain private, especially after the doctor had told her that she knew David.
The doctor didn’t leave the room. She pulled the door to behind her, keeping her hand on the doorknob, and lowered her voice. ‘You might find it easier if you tell people about your memory loss, otherwise you might find yourself making things up – you know, to cover for what you can’t remember. And you know where little white lies lead to.’
‘Even bigger white lies.’ Robyn nodded. ‘I know. It’s just that, this may sound silly, but I feel kind of …’ She was searching for the word to describe how she was feeling.
‘Vulnerable?’
‘Yes, that’s it. I guess it’s like how you feel when you meet people for the first time and you don’t know anything about them. But do you know what it feels like to meet strangers who might know more about you than you know yourself?’
‘Scary, I imagine.’
‘Yes. This is going to sound stupid, but until I know me, I’d rather—’
‘Not let your barriers down.’
Robyn nodded. She frowned. ‘Besides, if I tell people I’ve got this selective amnesia thing, they’re liable to think I’m a bit crazy – or lying.’
‘Well, I one for one know you’re not crazy – or lying. I’m afraid the look on your face when I told you that you had been pregnant said it all.’
‘I wish I could just remember.’
‘I know,’ Dr Jamieson said empathetically. ‘Look, I think you should do what you feel is best under the circumstances, Robyn. Go with your instincts, because that’s just about all you’ve got to go on at the moment.’ The doctor smiled at her for the first time. Her bleeper went off again. She rolled her eyes. ‘Sorry, but I have to go.’ She quietly shut the door.
Robyn stared up at the TV in the corner of the room as a newsreader appeared on the screen. She watched the blonde woman’s expression theatrically turn serious as the word Accident flashed up on a bulletin board behind her and her bright red lips moved as she started to speak.
Robyn could hear her voice, but only faintly. She wanted to hear this. It could be about her accident. She kept her eyes glued to the television set as she reached for the controls on the side table next to her bed. Her hand brushed them and there was a loud clatter as they slid off the table onto the floor.
‘Damn!’ she exclaimed loudly as she peered over the side of her bed. The controls were on the floor just beneath her, within easy reach, but the battery lid had come off. She could see one battery over by the door and the other had disappeared under her bed. Robyn threw off the bedcover and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She knew she wasn’t meant to get out of bed.