Coming Home

‘You’ve finished your soup, then.’ I jumped as Tara appeared to take my tray, her lips pursed in what I took to be disapproval. ‘Vincent said you could use the guest bedroom when you’re ready to go up.’

I noticed she was no longer referring to her employer by his surname and wondered if she’d been listening in on our conversation. Looking at my watch, I gasped to find it was almost nine o’clock in the evening. It had felt like some time in the early afternoon when I’d woken in the snow. Where had the rest of the day gone? I rubbed a hand over my eyes and tried not to feel too sorry for myself as the thought erupted from nowhere: where had the rest of my life gone?

My hands and feet felt defrosted now and I was about to offer to help Tara with the tray when I remembered I was still wrapped in a blanket. She must have seen my move.

‘You stay right there while I take this to the kitchen,’ she instructed, some of the earlier hostility returning to her voice. ‘I can bring you some magazines or you could watch TV, if you like, until you’re ready to go upstairs.’

I guessed she would have liked to add, ‘And think yourself lucky you’ve been allowed to stay here at all,’ but she contented herself with handing me the TV controls and opened a neat mahogany cupboard in the far recess beside the fireplace before hurrying off.

The TV showed pictures of raging blizzards, cars abandoned on motorways and a well-muffled news reporter being buffeted by the storm while snowploughs battled through the suburban roads behind her. My gaze drifted to the narrow shelf above the TV cabinet where a family photo stood in pride of place. Leaning forward, I made out Vincent with Jadie and Tara; all three of them smiling into the camera. I scanned the room and saw another photo of Tara, standing in what looked like a park, her hands resting on the handle of a pushchair out of which peeked a toddler wrapped up in blankets. Whether it was Jadie or her sister I couldn’t tell, but I did understand that Tara had been part of this family for a long time.

‘Could you tell me where the loo is?’ I called, hearing footsteps behind me.

‘Down the hall there at the very end, next to the room that’s full of boots and coats,’ she called back.

Getting awkwardly to my feet, I hugged one of the blankets round me and followed her directions. There was an ancient oak staircase behind the couch, which opened directly into the sitting room. Beyond that the rest of the house disappeared round a corner, the whole house appearing to be a huge reverse L shape. I padded through the wood-panelled sitting area, my bare feet slapping on the cold wood flooring as I passed the bottom of the staircase. The rest of the rooms led off the long arm with a boot room and downstairs toilet at the furthest end, opposite a back door, presumably opening on to a garden.

As soon as the loo door closed behind me, I turned to face the small mirror that hung over the washbasin and stared at my features for several long minutes. Running a hand over tawny shoulder-length hair, I peered into a stranger’s hazel eyes, trying to find something familiar in my reflection. My fingers traced the outline of the butterfly plaster Tara had used on my cut. It wasn’t too awful, despite the blossoming blue bruise surrounding it. It was an odd feeling looking at that face: I realised I hadn’t expected to look like this…Who was I and what was my name?

I crept back along the length of the L, tiptoeing past three doorways. The nearest door was open a crack, with light spilling out. I peeped in to see Vincent sitting at a wide desk, his features in profile, studying a computer screen; he had a telephone pressed to his ear. I tiptoed quickly past. The light in the passage spilled into the next darkened room where I glimpsed a formal dining table surrounded by elegant chairs. The last room, the one nearest the sitting room, was the kitchen. Pausing in the doorway, I took in the warm domesticated scene. This was obviously the hub of the household. A modern cooker stood against the far wall with a huge pan resting on the hob, a soup ladle protruding. A cloth-covered table still showed signs of where the family had eaten their last meal. A doll with flaxen hair lay on a chair next to the table, but otherwise there wasn’t much to show that a six-year-old child lived here.

‘Will you come up and kiss me good night?’ asked a husky little voice from behind me.

I turned to see Jadie standing behind me, clad in a pair of pink pyjamas and fluffy animal slippers. She walked past me to collect her doll, then turned back into the hall, making for the stairs. She paused at the foot of the staircase and put her head on one side, studying my features. ‘Say you will,’ she pleaded.

‘Well, if Tara doesn’t mind…’ I was a bit dubious. It seemed an odd request of a virtual stranger but then everything about this little girl was baffling. ‘I don’t even know where your bedroom is.’

‘It’s next to Amber’s.’

‘Er, right.’ The child seemed to think I’d automatically know where her sister’s room was. ‘Well, maybe I’ll come up in a minute.’

‘I’ve got to have my physio first,’ Jadie said quietly.

‘Your physio?’ I repeated, mystified. ‘Have you hurt yourself?’

Jadie smiled as if I’d made a joke. ‘No, silly, my back patting.’

Before I could question her further, Tara called from somewhere upstairs and Jadie tucked her doll under her arm and climbed up towards her.

Bemused, I returned to the comparative safety of the couch. Sitting staring into the crackling fire I wondered what twist of fate had brought me to this curious household. I sat for a long time, trying to recall something familiar, my mind eventually drifting.

Chapter Five (#ulink_504556b5-4415-593b-bc8e-29d2faccaefb)

‘I think Jadie wants you to go up to her.’ Tara’s voice made me jump for the second time that evening. ‘She’s hovering by her door with her favourite book and she won’t let me read it to her.’

I turned and saw Tara staring at me. She looked as uncomfortable as I felt. ‘I can’t imagine why, but she asked me to go up and kiss her good night,’ I explained apologetically.

‘She told you that?’

I nodded.

‘In actual words?’ She came round from behind the couch and seated herself next to me.

‘Yes. She asked me just now when she came down for her doll.’

‘I thought that might be what she wanted, because she wouldn’t let me turn off the light. She kept getting out of bed and standing by the door. I wasn’t sure I believed you before when you told me she’d spoken to you. I don’t understand it.’

‘Nor do I,’ I admitted. ‘Have you told her father she’s spoken to me?’

Tara shook her head. ‘I didn’t want to get his hopes up; the thought crossed my mind that you might be some sort of con artist, a trickster…I don’t know.’

I couldn’t say I blamed her. ‘Shall I go up to her?’ I asked.

I watched Tara struggle with herself. I could see she didn’t entirely trust me, but she obviously cared for Jadie and didn’t want to let her down. ‘I don’t see why not,’ she said at last. ‘But I’ll come up with you and wait on the landing where she can’t see me—if you don’t mind?’

‘Of course I don’t mind,’ I found myself responding immediately to the woman’s softer side. It was the first time she’d spoken to me with anything other than suspicion and distrust. Jadie was in her care: she was quite right not to leave her alone with a stranger.

Tara inclined her head in a gesture of thanks. We tiptoed up the stairs, the blanket draped about my shoulders like a thick cloak. Tara pointed out Jadie’s bedroom door. Jadie was sitting on the edge of her bed, apparently waiting for me.

‘Hi.’ I was feeling horribly self-conscious with Tara listening outside the door. The thought occurred to me that maybe I had a child of my own somewhere and I felt a further jolt of unease. But somehow I didn’t feel this was the case and I hoped my instincts could be relied upon as I perched next to Jadie on the edge of the pink quilted bedspread and looked down at her, unsure what she expected of me.

She held out the book, then climbed under her quilt and waited for me to pick it up.

‘You want me to read you a bedtime story?’ I willed her to talk so that Tara could hear her, but infuriatingly she just nodded. I picked up the book of fairy stories and I read out a story about a princess and a wicked witch, showing her the pictures as I went.

‘…And they all lived happily ever after,’ I finished, closing the book. ‘Now I’m going back downstairs and you must get to sleep. I’m staying in your grandma’s room tonight, so I’ll see you in the morning.’

She held out her arms for a hug and I only hesitated a moment before bending forwards and sliding my own arms round her slight form. As I held her I became aware of an ache deep in my chest. What was it about this child that made me feel so sad and yet so happy at the same time? I hugged her closely for a second or two, feeling the warmth of her body through the blanket. To my surprise she reached up, brought her face close to mine and planted a kiss on my cheek. ‘Night-night,’ she whispered.

‘Night-night, Jadie. See you tomorrow.’

Tara was waiting for me when I turned out the light and we crept back along the landing to the top of the stairs. I realised I was shaking.

‘Did you hear her?’ I asked, trying to keep my tone light.

Tara shook her head. ‘No, I didn’t hear her say anything. Did she speak to you again?’

‘Only to whisper good night.’

We returned to the sitting room, where Tara gave the fire a prod with the poker, sending red sparks flying up the chimney. I watched as she put a couple of small logs on the fire from a basket in the hearth and hung the tongs back on a brass stand. The activity seemed somehow familiar to me, as if I’d seen her do it before and I felt a shiver run down my spine in spite of the extra warmth.

Tara obviously felt something too. ‘Who are you?’ She leaned back on her haunches, studying me much as Jadie had done earlier. ‘What are you really doing here?’

‘I don’t know.’ I made an awkward grimace. ‘Did Vincent tell you that I’ve lost my memory?’

‘He did. I wasn’t sure I believed it, though, any more than I believed Jadie had spoken to you.’ She pulled herself up off the floor, came over to the sofa and sat beside me. She didn’t look at me while she absently picked at her nails. Her voice was lower when she spoke again, and full of misgivings. ‘It’s really odd. I mean, you don’t know who you are and Jadie’s treating you as if she already knows you.’ She paused, frowning. ‘And why has she decided to talk to you? I do believe she spoke to you because otherwise you couldn’t have known about Amber. I just don’t understand why, after all this time, she chose to break her silence with you.’

‘Maybe because I’m a stranger,’ I suggested. ‘I had no expectation that she couldn’t talk and therefore it was a natural thing to do.’ I yawned, belatedly covering my mouth with my hand. ‘I’m sorry; it’s been a heck of a day.’