Community Page 17

  Michael couldn’t think what else to say. Catherine reached out and touched his arm and said, ‘Goodnight, Greg, what’s left of it.’

  Doctor Hamid said, ‘Take good care.’

  He climbed back into the Jeep and closed the door. He sat for a while behind the wheel, feeling stunned. Nothing made any sense any more. He did know Natasha Kerwin, he was absolutely sure of it. Yet Kingsley Vane had told him that his amnesia was getting worse, and Catherine had warned him against inventing memories just to fill in the gaps.

  He started the engine and drove slowly out of the clinic gates. Henry was standing in his security booth, staring at him with what looked like a satisfied sneer on his face. Michael felt strongly inclined to give him the finger, but what would be the point of that? Henry might not even be real.

  He drove down the road and parked the Jeep in Isobel’s driveway, closing the door as quietly as he could. He let himself into the house and it was silent. He undressed quickly in his own room, and then crept naked along the hallway to Isobel’s room.

  Isobel was still sleeping, in exactly the same position in which he had left her. The closet door was an inch ajar, and inside he could see Belle’s glossy black eyes staring at him. He closed the door, making sure that the catch clicked. Isobel mumbled and stirred and said, ‘Emilio?’

  Michael lifted the covers and eased himself into bed next to her, wrapping his arms around her even though she felt so cold. He cupped her left breast in his hand and her nipple was crinkled tight and hard, like a raisin taken out of the fridge.

  Thus in the winter.

  He shut his eyes but after a few minutes he opened them again. He couldn’t stop thinking about Natasha Kerwin and wondering how she was. He could see her face in his mind’s eye, looking up at him. Her beautiful, perfect face. Pray God that he hadn’t hurt her.

  Stands the lonely tree.

  He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew Isobel was shaking his shoulder, and the bedroom was filled with sunlight.

  ‘Wake up, Rip Van Winkle! Do you know what time it is?’

  He lifted his head off the pillow, trying to focus on her. As he did so, he saw something totally impossible. He squeezed his eyes tight, and shook his head, and when he looked at her again, everything was flush-centered.

  ‘What’s the matter, baby?’ she asked him.

  ‘Tired, that’s all. Didn’t sleep very well.’

  She kissed him, poking the tip of her cold tongue between his lips. ‘You should have woken me.’

  She sat up in bed and looked around. When she saw all her clothes on the floor, she said, ‘Did I drink too much last night?’

  ‘A little, yes.’

  ‘I mustn’t do that, Greg. You won’t let me do it again, will you? Doctor Hamid says it’s bad for my substance.’

  ‘Your substance? What the hell is your substance?’

  ‘Damned if I know,’ she said, standing up. ‘I didn’t ask him.’ Michael kept his eyes on her in case he saw that impossible thing again, but he didn’t. He didn’t really know what it was that he had seen, or if he had seen it at all. It had probably been no more than an optical illusion – an indoor mirage created by the sunlight which was reflected from the multiple mirrors on the closet doors.

  He climbed out of bed, too, and she came across to him and put her arms around his waist. ‘Do you know what we remind me of?’ she asked him, looking serious.

  Michael shook his head. ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘Adam and Eve, before they found out what was going on.’

  He kept his eleven o’clock appointment with Catherine. She was wearing a very severe gray suit, and black pantyhose, and her hair was pinned tightly in a French pleat. He had the feeling that she was angry about something, or out of sorts. Even her perfume smelled bitter. Maybe she was suffering from PMS.

  ‘You’re taking your Vinpocetine regularly?’ she asked him, without looking up from her clipboard.

  ‘Of course, yes. How’s Natasha Kerwin?’

  ‘Miraculously well, thank you.’ Still without raising her eyes.

  ‘Is she conscious?’

  ‘Yes, as a matter of fact. She’s very weak, but that’s only to be expected.’

  ‘You mean that’s only to be expected after being taken out of her bed in the intensive-care unit in the middle of the night and driven around Siskiyou County for two hours?’

  Now Catherine lowered her clipboard and looked at him directly. ‘Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. But fortunately for you, the outcome has been unexpectedly positive. We should thank you, I suppose, for making up our minds for us.’

  ‘I don’t follow.’

  ‘It happens every day in medicine. We have to make critical choices about how to treat people, and sometimes it’s hard to know if we’re going to do them more harm than good. In Natasha Kerwin’s case, you took the decision out of our hands.’

  ‘What the hell did I do? By the time we got back here, she looked like she was really, really sick.’

  ‘She was. But now she’s conscious, and she’s talking, and we have every expectation of a speedy recovery.’

  ‘And I did that?’

  ‘In a manner of speaking, yes.’

  Michael didn’t know what to say to that. When he had last checked up on Natasha Kerwin, at the intersection with Summit View, he would have said that she was critically ill. In fact, he had brought her back to the clinic because he had been convinced that if he didn’t, she would die.

  ‘Can I see her?’ he asked.

  Catherine hesitated for a moment. ‘I’m not too sure that’s a good idea. Do you still think you know her?’

  ‘Does that make any difference?’

  ‘Not really. I’m just asking from the point of view of your recovery.’

  ‘Mr Vane told me last night that I couldn’t possibly know her. Geographically impossible, that’s what he said. Apparently we were brought up more than a thousand miles apart.’

  ‘That wasn’t what I asked you. What I asked you was, do you still think that you know her?’

  ‘What if I said no?’

  ‘If you said “no” I would say that you were showing some signs that your neural pathways were mending. When you come to understand that a false memory is exactly that – false – that’s a real step forward. That’s even more important than remembering things that actually happened.’

  ‘OK. So, can I see her?’

  ‘Not today. She’s not quite ready for visitors yet. But maybe tomorrow or the day after. Now … can we get back to your recollection therapy? Do you remember your seventh birthday party?’

  ‘My what? My seventh birthday party? No, I don’t.’

  ‘Well, try. You dressed up as somebody special. One of your superheroes. Can you remember which one?’

  ‘No, I can’t. Did my so-called sister tell you this?’

  Catherine lowered her clipboard again. ‘Greg … you mustn’t be so suspicious and so hostile. Everybody here is trying so hard to help you find your way back.’

  ‘Are you? I don’t know. I’m really not so sure about that.’

  ‘Try, Greg. You have to try, otherwise you won’t make any progress at all.’

  ‘All right,’ said Michael. ‘Spider-man.’

  ‘That’s it!’ smiled Catherine, lifting up her clipboard and ticking a box. ‘That’s exactly right! It was Spider-man.’

  Michael watched her as she scribbled an additional comment. Then he said, ‘That was only a guess, Catherine. I don’t really remember it at all.’

  After his session with Doctor Connor, Michael went for a physical check-up from Doctor Hamid.

  Doctor Hamid said very little, but continued to smile while he checked Michael’s blood pressure and heart rate and felt his spine for any obvious signs of displacement of his vertebrae.

  ‘I think you are quite fine,’ he said, as Michael buttoned up his shirt. ‘Your usual CT scan is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon so I will be able to mak
e one hundred per cent sure then that you have not suffered any setback in your healing process.’

  ‘I can go now?’

  ‘Of course. I will see you tomorrow.’

  As Michael opened his consulting-room door, however, Doctor Hamid said, ‘You will not try such an escapade again, will you?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’m not sure I can make any promises.’

  Doctor Hamid swiveled around in his chair and took off his spectacles. ‘The entire clinic is covered by closed-circuit television. You didn’t think that we would be so lax in our security, did you? Perhaps I should not be telling you this, but we have been aware all of the time that you were attempting to take Ms Kerwin away.’

  Michael stared at him in disbelief. ‘You knew?’

  ‘Of course we knew. We saw you the first time when you entered Ms Kerwin’s room with Jack Barr, and our security people were watching when you came back with Lloyd Hammers.’

  ‘Well, if you knew, why the hell didn’t you stop me?’

  ‘It was important for us to find out how far you were prepared to go.’

  ‘But, for Christ’s sake, I was putting Natasha Kerwin’s life at risk. I thought it was worth it, to get her out of here before you pulled the plug on her. But if you knew that I couldn’t get out of here, all you were doing was jeopardizing her recovery for no reason at all – except what? To find out how far I was prepared to go? I don’t even understand what that means.’

  Doctor Hamid said, ‘Ms Kerwin was and still is in a very serious condition. She was involved in a catastrophic automobile accident in which she suffered extensive brain trauma. There seemed to be no point in keeping her on life support. Therefore we allowed you your little adventure for your sake – so that we could evaluate how attached you felt to Ms Kerwin and how delusional you were.’

  Michael closed the door and came back across the consulting room to stand right in front of Doctor Hamid’s desk. ‘I still don’t get it. What about her relatives? What about her mom and dad? Didn’t you ask them how they felt about taking her off life support?’

  Doctor Hamid looked away to the left, and Michael thought: Whatever you’re going to say to me now, it’s going to be a lie.

  ‘Ms Kerwin’s parents have already given us permission to take her off life support. So whatever happened to her after that was academic.’

  ‘But now she’s recovering? That’s what Doctor Connor told me, anyhow.’

  ‘Yes. It seems as if she is.’

  ‘So what exactly are you telling me?’ asked Michael.

  Doctor Hamid looked up at him again. ‘I am trying to emphasize to you, Gregory, that you are here in Trinity for your own good. We are watching you in order to take care of you, and for no other reason. In our judgment, if you were to leave Trinity now, the consequences for you would be disastrous.’

  ‘What do you mean, disastrous?’

  Doctor Hamid said, ‘I am sorry, Gregory. I have already told you more than I ought to, but I am a doctor and you are my patient and I care passionately about your welfare. I am simply saying that you should stay here for the time being in order to prepare yourself physically and mentally for the world outside.’

  ‘Is there something wrong with me that you haven’t told me? I mean apart from the spinal injury, and the memory loss?’

  ‘Again, Gregory, I am sorry. I am not at liberty to say any more. Sometimes, if patients know everything about their condition, it can have a negative effect on their recovery. Some cancer patients, for example, or those who suffer from multiple sclerosis.’

  ‘So there is something that you haven’t told me?’

  ‘I cannot say that there is and I cannot say that there is not.’

  ‘Doctor Hamid – what the fuck is wrong with me?’

  Doctor Hamid put his spectacles back on, and stood up. ‘Please, Gregory. You should go now. I have another patient waiting.’

  ‘I’m not leaving until you tell me.’

  Doctor Hamid walked over to the door and opened it. ‘I can say only this, Gregory. It is nothing that I or anybody else can cure. It is something that, in time, you will learn to accept.’

  Michael glanced toward the waiting-room outside. The two white-faced security men were standing by the tropical fish tank in their black suits and their sunglasses, their hands cupped over their genitalia in the standard pose of all security men everywhere.

  ‘No fuss, please, Gregory,’ said Doctor Hamid, very softly.

  Michael looked at him intently – trying to see if he were sending him a message with his dark brown eyes that he was not at liberty to say with his lips. All he could read was sympathy.

  For some reason, Doctor Hamid felt sorry for him.

  EIGHTEEN

  Before he went home, Michael knocked on the half-open door of Kingsley Vane’s office. Kingsley Vane’s personal assistant Valerie was sitting at her desk with a half-eaten bagel on top of her in-tray, talking on the phone. She beckoned Michael to come in and take a seat.

  ‘Of course I’ll tell him,’ she was saying. ‘Of course I will. He’ll be delighted.’

  When she had hung up, she gave Michael a smile, all scarlet lipstick and horselike teeth. ‘Mr Merrick,’ she said. ‘Mr Vane said that you’d be dropping in.’

  ‘He told you why?’ asked Michael.

  Valerie reached over to her out-tray and picked up a brown Manila envelope. She passed it to Michael and said, ‘Durable power of attorney. That was the one, wasn’t it?’

  Michael took the two-page document out of the envelope and read it. Gregory Merrick had appointed Kingsley Vane his attorney-in-fact, even if he became disabled or incompetent. At the foot of the document ‘Gregory Merrick’ had signed his name and two witnesses had added their signatures – ‘Catherine T. Connor’ and ‘A. Hamid.’

  He handed the envelope back. ‘All above board, I trust?’ smiled Valerie.

  Michael nodded, but at the same time he thought: If I’m really Gregory Merrick, then yes, it’s valid, even though I don’t remember signing it. But what if I’m not?

  As he walked back to Isobel’s house, he met Jemima and Angela coming up the slope in the opposite direction – Angela with her white sheepdog gasping at its leash and Jemima circling around on her bicycle.

  ‘We heard about you, Gregory!’ Jemima sang out.

  Michael stopped, shielding his eyes with his hand. The sun shining on the snow was dazzling, and both girls looked blurry and unfocused, as if they had moved while they were having their photographs taken.

  ‘Oh, yes? So what did you hear?’

  ‘We heard you’re getting mar-ried!’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘That’s what my mom was saying. We heard her talking to Mrs Steinman next door. She said you’re going to marry that hoo-ha!’

  Michael lowered his hand and shook his head. ‘’Fraid your mom’s got it wrong there, girls. Me and Mrs Weston, we’re just good friends, that’s all. We’re not getting married. And – please – don’t call her that name any more, OK?’

  ‘Hoo-ha! Hoo-ha! Mrs Weston’s a hoo-ha!’

  ‘You be careful there, Jemima,’ Michael warned her. ‘One of these days when you least expect it I’m going to come right up behind you and drop a spider down the back of your neck.’

  ‘Hoo-ha! Hoo-ha!’ sang Jemima, and Angela’s sheepdog barked to join in.

  Michael gave the girls a dismissive wave and continued to walk down to Isobel’s house. When he let himself in, he found Isobel in the kitchen, rolling out pastry. Her hair was tied back and she had a smudge of white flour on the tip of her nose.

  ‘You’re back! How did it go?’

  ‘Pretty much the same as usual. Catherine seems to think I’m not making sufficient progress, but for Christ’s sake, some of the questions she asks me! What costume did I wear for my seventh birthday party? Can you remember what you wore for your seventh birthday party?’

  ‘Yes, a pink frilly dress with a huge bow at the back. And pin
k ballerina shoes.’

  ‘You’re kidding me.’

  Isobel came up to him and put her floury hands on his shoulders and kissed him. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’m kidding you.’

  ‘I met those two girls,’ he said. ‘What are their names? The one with the bike and the one with the dog.’

  ‘Jemima and Angela.’

  ‘That’s it. Jemima and Angela. According to them, we’re getting married.’

  Isobel stared up at him with those liquid brown eyes. Her full pink lips were slightly parted and he could just see the tip of her tongue between her teeth. He could see that she was deliberately trying to look seductive.

  ‘Erm … that’s what their mom said, apparently,’ Michael added, when she didn’t answer straight away.

  ‘We will, though, won’t we?’ she asked him.

  ‘Get married? I’m sorry. Who said anything about getting married?’

  ‘Don’t you want to?’

  Michael took hold of her wrists and gently took her hands off his shoulders. ‘Isobel – we’ve never even discussed it.’

  ‘You love me, though, don’t you?’

  Michael didn’t know what to say to that. ‘I’m not physically or mentally fit to get married,’ he told her. ‘I still need a stick to walk around with, and I can’t remember what my name is. How can I marry you when I don’t even know who I am?’

  ‘That doesn’t matter. Why should that matter? You’re still you, whatever your name is. I love you, Greg. I love you so much. I need you. I really need the security of knowing that you’re always going to be here.’

  ‘Isobel – I don’t intend to stay in Trinity for the rest of my life. As soon as Doctor Hamid has given me the all-clear, and as soon as I’ve gotten over this amnesia, I’m out of here. I really mean it.’

  ‘You can’t.’

  ‘What do you mean, I can’t? What’s going to stop me?’

  She started to reach up to touch his face, but then she suddenly realized how floury her fingers were, and so she simply stood there in front of him with both hands lifted in a gesture of helplessness. To Michael’s surprise, he realized that she was close to tears.