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.’
‘Wherever you come from you should have listened to the forecast before setting out,’ Tara admonished, sounding confident again now that the conversation had returned to the mundane. ‘Vincent decided not to go in to work today after hearing the bad weather warnings this morning and it was only the second time he hasn’t made it to the office in all the time I’ve worked here. Usually he leaves as soon as I arrive at seven thirty, but they were warning of blizzards even then. You must have been crazy; when he brought you in you weren’t even wearing a coat!’
She was right, of course, and the knowledge sent fresh spurts of panic through me, rekindling the sick feeling in my stomach. I didn’t want to dwell on why I had found myself out in the snowstorm with no warm clothes and no belongings; it was just too much for my tired brain to cope with. I decided to concentrate instead on finding out about the owner of my sanctuary.
‘What does Vincent do?’
‘He works in the City, in banking. I don’t know the details exactly.’
‘Do he and Jadie live alone—apart from you, of course?’
‘I suppose you could say that, though I’m here more than he is. Vincent works long hours and he hands Jadie over to me Monday to Friday. He’s not usually back until after I’ve got Jadie into bed. I cook his dinner and then I go home.’
‘You don’t work weekends then?’
‘Not usually. Jadie’s grandmother comes every Friday evening or Saturday morning and stays until Monday when I arrive. She looks after Jadie when I’m not here.’
I yawned again and Tara stood up. ‘I’ll show you to your room, if you like.’
Her tone was friendlier now, and I responded in kind. ‘Thanks. I’m hoping that a good night’s sleep will clear my head and that my memory will be back by the morning.’ I had been trying to be brave and act normally but it was frightening not knowing who I was or where I belonged. I felt like a child, dependent on others for my most basic needs; hollow inside and horribly vulnerable.
Following Tara back up the staircase, the blankets still draped round me, I ran my hands up the polished wood banisters and felt a reassuring warmth creep through me. What was it about this house that seemed so familiar, so comforting? Whatever it was, it helped in some small way to dispel my feelings of helplessness.
We passed the closed door next to Jadie’s room, which I assumed must have been Amber’s, and Tara waved her hand at the next room along, telling me it was the bathroom. There was another short flight of steps at the end of the corridor, over the boot room, which Tara mentioned led to an attic room where she slept occasionally if she stayed over. The last room on the right was to be mine.
Tara flicked on the light and stood back to let me pass. I went into a well-furnished, old-fashioned room with a queen-size bed dominating the space.
‘Is there anything you need?’ she asked abruptly as she turned to leave.
I stood awkwardly, feeling even lonelier and more displaced than ever as I stared round the room. Despite Tara’s thinly veiled hostility I found I didn’t want her to leave but, not wanting to impose more than I already had, I merely murmured, ‘What happened to my clothes?’
‘I pulled your wet things off you when you were brought in,’ she replied. ‘Your boots are drying in the boot room and I’ve washed your clothes and hung them in the kitchen to dry. Do you want them now?’
I nodded and she went off to fetch them with a cluck of her tongue and an exasperated sigh, leaving me alone. After a moment I ventured forwards, half heartedly pulling out drawers and glancing through the contents. The room looked comfortable enough. I sat on the bed, bouncing slightly to test the springs and tried to think sensibly.
Surely I must have had a handbag with me when I’d set out. What about all the things one would normally take when going out? Surely I owned a mobile phone, purse, credit cards, driving licence…everything that gives a person their identity. I didn’t have so much as a hairbrush or lipstick to call
