Chapter 17
FAYE
“I thought I’d drive tonight,” Alistair says, gesturing to his red BMW parked on the drive. “It takes a little while to get there but it’s worth it, I promise.”
“And you don’t mind not drinking?” I step out and drape the shawl around my shoulders as the evening breeze chills the back of my neck.
“Not at all.” He grins. “Not when I’m with someone who is so fun to be around.”
I can’t help but smile at his flattery. Alistair makes a point of opening the door for me and I climb into the car. He gets in and we’re soon on the road, heading to the surprise destination.
“Is this radio station okay?” he asks.
I nod, not really listening to the music.
“You seem distracted today,” he says. “Is everything okay?”
He turns off the main road and heads away from the coast onto the darker, narrower roads that lead into the countryside.
“Course it is,” I say, making sure to smile.
“Ah,” Alistair says. “I thought maybe you were worried about the photo. I… Sorry to bring it up, but I wanted to clear the air and let you know that I saw it.”
My heart sinks. “You saw it?”
“Yes, but it’s completely fine. Please don’t be embarrassed or upset about it.”
The North York Moors loom ahead, and I wonder where we’re going as I try to control the blush crawling up my cheeks.
I clear my throat before speaking again. “The thing is… I need to explain because the context around that photo is a little complicated.”
“That’s okay,” he says. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to… it’s just that I’m not even sure what to think myself.
” I shake my head. My thoughts about the situation are so broken and twisted that I don’t know how to put them into words.
But Alistair is silent, waiting for me to continue.
“It doesn’t make sense. I don’t remember it. And…” I sigh.
This is it. The moment of honesty. Time to tell him all about the dementia diagnosis. So why am I not saying anything?
Maybe I don’t have to tell him. If Alistair is someone who wants to live in the moment. If he’s more concerned with having fun than anything serious, then maybe there’s no need right now.
I don’t want his pity and I don’t want to ruin whatever fun we could have tonight. I can have tonight, can’t I?
“Are you okay, Faye?”
His question breaks the silence I’ve left brewing too long.
“Yes, sorry. It’s just all so strange. I honestly have no memory of that photo being taken.
I met with the guy who took it and he said he saw blood on the back of my head.
But I haven’t hurt my head recently. And I couldn’t find the muddy shirt in my laundry basket.
And what would I be doing on Seeley Moor like that for God’s sake? I just refuse to believe it’s me.”
A long breath escapes my lips. With it, comes all of the worry and concern I’ve been holding inside my body.
He pauses for some time, taking it all in and then he asks. “So, if it isn’t you… did someone photoshop it, do you think?”
I glance around at our surroundings. We’re really in the middle of the moors now. The thin road snakes through the dark valley, no lights, no sign of life.
“I don’t think so,” I say. “The photographer gave me several other photos from other angles. I could buy him faking one, maybe two. But not that many.” I let out a slightly nervous laugh. “You’re going to think I’m completely bonkers when I tell you what I think.”
He gives me a wry smile that’s followed up with the softest caress of my knee. “Try me.”
“It’s a long story.”
“We’ve got another twenty minutes before we arrive.”
Alistair turns down the radio and I tell him all about Rachel Lacey giving me up for adoption and finding my sister Dina. I tell him the crazy theory I have that my identical twin could be out there.
Once I’m done, he cocks his head to one side and says, “Okay. So, what are you doing to find your twin?”
I could laugh. Never in a million years did I think he would respond that way. But there’s no hint of doubt in his open, interested eyes. He really seems to believe me.
“Nothing yet. I honestly don’t know where to begin.”
“What about the photo?” Alistair suggests. “If you’re right then the woman in the photo must have been in the same area as you. Maybe she’s trying to find you.”
“But why would she be in a state of undress like that?” I ask.
“I don’t know, but whatever the reason, it seems as though she needs a caring family member to help her,” he says. “And you’re a smart, sensitive woman. Which means she needs you, Faye.”
He pulls into the carpark of a small, countryside pub.
“Oh,” I say. “We’re here.”
The drive went by in no time. I got so lost in our conversation.
Alistair not only listened, but believed me right away when I told him my madcap theory.
He makes me feel heard and safe. I smile and then take in our surroundings.
This small pub seems odd to be a grand surprise, but perhaps it has a special restaurant.
One glance at the parked cars tells me that the clientele are big spenders.
Alistair’s BMW slides in next to a metallic Range Rover.
“So, it might seem pretty ordinary on the outside, but the food is amazing,” he says. “It’s worth the drive. Believe me.”
On the walk into the restaurant, Alistair slips an arm over my shoulder and in return, I slip mine around his waist. His body is warm and firm.
As we walk through the door, I realise this is my first time in a crowded place since the photo went viral and I’m not sure if people will recognise me, or who they assume to be me.
We’re shown to our seats, a small table by the window, and Alistair orders a wine for me and a coke for him.
Low ceilings and old-fashioned beams criss-cross above our heads.
The room pulses with the buzz of conversation which thrums through me pleasantly.
I haven’t been to a fancy place like this for a long time.
I smile as I pick up the leatherbound menu to peruse the options.
“The salmon is good here,” he says. “But go with your instincts because it’s all amazing.”
I appreciate him not being pushy. Some men like to order for you, and I’ve never been a fan of that. But in the end, I go with his recommendation of the salmon to pair with my white wine.
Across the other side of the restaurant, I notice a man staring at me. He’s in his thirties, with dark hair and deep-set eyes. I meet his gaze for a moment, thinking it will make him turn away. But he doesn’t. He continues to stare. I shake my head slightly and turn back to my date.
“You know,” I say, “I could do with some help investigating this possible twin. I know it’s a bit of a strange request, but so far you seem to be the only person who believes me. So do you fancy helping me out with this? And maybe you and I can get to know each other a little better as we do it?”
Alistair tucks a lock of hair behind my ear and kisses me lightly on the lips. “If it means spending more time with you, count me in.”