Chapter 20
Robyn was getting used to Gayle’s constant ruminations over her mysterious past. Robyn didn’t think mysterious was the right word to describe her past. She was just an art student at college who’d had an unfortunate accident over the Christmas holidays and lost her memory – nothing more.
She tried not to think about that huge sum of money that had been deposited into her bank account.
Gayle thought it was rather exciting, losing your memory and discovering yourself again.
‘In fact, the best bit about it would be if you had lost your memory for good.’
Robyn looked aghast.
‘No, really.’ Gayle continued. ‘Just look at it this way. All the negative things that you learnt about yourself over the years would be forgotten.’
‘But so would the good things,’ Robyn intervened.
Gayle reached for the bottle of wine on the coffee table. She poured herself another large glass of wine and offered Robyn a refill.
Robyn shook her head. She was having trouble keeping her eyes open as it was. She wanted to go to bed, but didn’t want to disappoint Gayle, who wanted to stay up and chat.
It didn’t help that the old-fashioned sofas, covered in green leaf-effect throws, were so squishy and comfortable. The heating was on full blast – Gayle had fiddled with the night storage heaters, and for the first time in a long time they were emitting more heat in the evening than during the day.
However, the downside was that this made Robyn feel even more sleepy. Perhaps I should stop snuggling under the soft, cosy throw? Robyn didn’t want to move from her spot on the sofa in front of the open fire, the red-hot coals throwing out yet more heat. Despite the large TV in the corner of the room, Robyn’s eyes kept being drawn back to the mesmerising warm yellow flames flickering in the hearth. She could feel her eyelids growing heavy.
Gayle was sitting in a matching armchair to one side of the sofa, under an old-fashioned standard lamp with a huge shade, her feet on a footstool. As if sensing that Robyn might fall asleep, she turned the sound on the television up. An old black-and-white movie was on, scheduled to end at midnight.
Robyn wasn’t enjoying the movie, but she didn’t like to mention it to Gayle, who seemed to be enjoying it. Despite having mentioned Gone with the Wind , Robyn had discovered something else about herself – she didn’t care for old movies; not at all.
‘Perhaps I will have another glass of wine, after all,’ Robyn said, sitting up and planting her feet on the modern, Aztec-style rug. Apparently, Gayle had bought it to cover the old carpet in the lounge. It looked out of place in the room, with its old-fashioned furnishings, but Gayle seemed so pleased with the rug that Robyn didn’t want to tell her what she really thought.
She poured herself another glass of wine – this time a rosé from one of the three bottles on the table – and sat back down on the sofa to finish the movie. She helped herself to some nachos. There were also bowls of crisps, popcorn, and peanuts. She wasn’t particularly hungry after the hotpot and dumplings that Gayle had served up for dinner, but she did like the little nibbles Gayle had put out.
Robyn stared at the TV, willing midnight to come round quickly. She didn’t know how she’d get to the end of the movie without falling asleep. The television was rented, apparently, from a local electrical store. It was about the only modern thing in the lounge, other than the rug. The sofas, the antique furniture, the old prints in heavy wooden picture frames, the wallpaper and the carpet were just like the rest of the house – dated and dark.
Gayle commented, ‘Can you imagine what it would be like to discover what you are good at and what you enjoy in life without any knowledge of what untrue things people have told you about yourself over the years?’
‘Which self-help book did that come from?’ Robyn said in mock humour.
To Robyn’s surprise, Gayle reeled off the title of some book by a professor of psychology and even gave the chapter heading.
‘I have the book, if you want to borrow it?’
‘No, thank you.’
‘Suit yourself. But it’s in the library if you change your mind.’
‘There’s a library?’
‘I thought you went exploring?’
‘I did. I started in the attic, and was going to work my way down, but then I found the photo albums up there.’
They both glanced at the piles of photo albums littering the long coffee table. After dinner, they’d spent most of the evening, before putting on the late-night movie at ten, looking through them. Gayle had reminisced about her childhood there – her father had been a doctor, her mum a nurse – and the wonderful time she and her siblings had had growing up in the big old house.
‘Ah, that’s where you were when I called you for lunch and got no answer. I thought you’d gone for a lie-down and had a nap. I did knock softly on your door.’
‘I was in the attic the whole time.’
‘Blimey, you must have got cold up there. As my mum would say, you’re lucky you didn’t catch your death.’
They both paused for a moment to glance at Gayle’s mother, who was sitting in an old-fashioned, high-backed chair, knitting as she watched the television. Apparently, she tended to wake up at night, and sleep during the day, which was difficult for Gayle.
Robyn felt ever so guilty for what she was going to say next. ‘Gayle, I found an old electric heater up there, so I kind of used that. Sorry. Bet it cost a fortune.’
‘Well, fortunately I’m not paying for it. The bills are still in my mother’s name, and I know she’s got direct debits set up for that sort of thing.’
‘Still, I feel bad.’
‘Please don’t. I’m just so pleased you found the photo albums. I had no idea what my parents had done with them. And I haven’t had a chance to look for them.’
‘There’s a lot of stuff in the attic. Hope you don’t mind …’ Robyn looked down at the Christmas jumper she’d found in a trunk of old clothes. She’d slipped it on up there before she found the heater, and had kept it on.
Gayle smiled approvingly. ‘Actually, it suits you, and it makes a nice change from all the grungy black clothing you seem to wear.’
‘I know. To be honest, Gayle, I don’t much like my clothes.’
‘There, you see. I told you there were some advantages to losing your memory and starting your life anew. You’re taking stock and making changes already.’
Robyn still wanted her memories back. ‘It’s only a Christmas jumper.’
‘Yes, but who knows where it will lead. This might be the start of the new you.’
Robyn would rather know the old her before she decided she needed to change.
‘Why don’t we make some New Year’s resolutions?’
‘Tonight? But it’s not New Year’s Eve until tomorrow.’
‘I know, but who knows what you young-uns will be up to on New Year’s Eve. You know New Year’s Eve celebrations are a big deal in Scotland.’
Robyn nodded, although she couldn’t imagine this young-un would be up to much of anything. She imagined she’d be sitting there with Gayle and her mum the next evening, seeing in the New Year together. And she didn’t mind that – not at all. But she was happy to go along with making New Year’s resolutions that night, if that was what Gayle wanted.
‘Is that what you normally do, Gayle – make New Year’s resolutions?’
‘Not at all, but like you, I want to start over.’
Robyn already knew what her New Year’s resolution would be, apart from getting her memories back. There was something she wanted to do – and she was starting first thing in the morning. She grinned at Gayle.
Gayle narrowed her eyes. ‘I know that look. One of my sisters used to pull an expression like that when she was up to something. What are you up to?’
Robyn’s attention was drawn to the photo albums. ‘You’ll see.’