vocal cords and facial bone structure. ‘When you came to see me yesterday you’d looked up some stuff about lightning strikes?’
‘Yes,’ he said, his eyes narrowing with just a smidgen of suspicion.
‘Did you find anything about victims having new memories? Or people recollecting events they couldn’t account for?’
The doctor came and sat down on the bed again, trying to look concerned, though I could see the interest gleaming in his eyes.
‘There’s often confusion, due to the Pat Effect I mentioned to you before, but new memories?’ He shook his head. ‘I’ve not heard of it.’ He fixed his gaze onto my face. ‘You’re not experiencing anything like that, are you, Lauren?’
‘Good heavens no!’ I replied hastily with a forced laugh. ‘I was just wondering what you’d found out, that’s all.’
‘There are many documented cases of lightning-strike victims becoming disorientated, changed in character, for example,’ he replied, the gleam in his eyes evaporating as quickly as it had arrived.
‘Go on.’
‘The effect of lightning on the human brain is similar to that of patients who have undergone electroconvulsive therapy,’ he continued. ‘As I said, the vast majority who survive a lightning strike are confused and suffer anterograde amnesia for several days after the strike. Loss of consciousness for varying periods is common, as are neurological complications and difficulty with memory.’
He looked at me intensely as if to check I was keeping up with him, then he pressed on more boldly. ‘You have to understand that the cognitive and neurological damage caused to the brain by a lightning strike to the skull is similar to a blunt injury trauma.’
‘Like being hit over the head?’ I asked.
He nodded. ‘Exactly. You were a very lucky woman, Lauren. According to your children, the lightning hit you directly on the head, back and shoulders. Your hair, I hear, stood on end and actually caught fire, and there are burns consistent with this.’
‘The burns aren’t deep, though, considering how hot you said lightning can get?’ I probed, twisting the unaccustomed wedding band on my finger as I spoke. ‘Would you have expected the burns to be worse?’
Dr Shakir smiled. ‘You are an inquisitive woman, Lauren, but I will do my best to answer you. Yes, I was surprised there wasn’t more burning to your head, but in the case of your shoulder, then no, I wasn’t surprised. Skin is the primary resistor to the flow of current into the body, causing the appearance of surface burns, but preventing deep tissue damage. With lightning the current is present in the body for a very brief time, causing short-circuiting of the body’s electrical systems: cardiac arrest such as in your case, vascular spasm, neurological damage and autonomic instability.’
‘So there was nothing about my case that was out of the ordinary?’
He paused and broke eye contact before shaking his head. ‘No.’
I stared at him, realising that what he had been holding back all along was the very thing I had been desperate to discover. Had Lauren’s injuries actually killed her? From what he had told me, and from the fascinated way he looked at me, I got the very clear impression that all Dr Shakir’s medical experience indicated that I should not be here. My living, breathing presence belied his gut instincts, confounding his diagnosis. No wonder he wouldn’t look me in the eye, I thought grimly.
I remembered suddenly what Dr Chin had said about possible deafness and the chance of developing cataracts at a later date, and put the question to Dr Shakir.
‘You are remarkably well-informed about your condition,’ he said.
He seemed happier now we were back in safe medical territory. I watched as his shoulders visibly relaxed. ‘This is accurate information regarding high-voltage injury, but I have checked you thoroughly, and you appear at present to be in the clear.’ He paused. ‘In fact, when we have had the results of the MRI scan, providing everything is normal you can probably go home.’
‘Today?’ I asked him apprehensively.
He shook his head. ‘I will come and see you again tomorrow. If your scan results are available then, and you are feeling generally in good health, we may be able to let you out tomorrow. If you are still experiencing memory loss at that time we could arrange an outpatient appointment for you at our psychiatric unit. Meanwhile, I suggest you get some rest. I’m sure it will be very difficult for you to get much peace and quiet once you are home.’
Grant came to visit me alone that evening. He said the children were exhausted after their day out. He’d put them to bed early and asked a neighbour to come in and keep an eye on them for an hour or two.
‘How is Teddy bearing up?’ I asked him, partly to show an interest in his children’s well-being and partly because, despite my denials, I was deeply affected by Teddy’s situation.
Grant shrugged. ‘He’s upset, obviously. He doesn’t really understand what’s happening, Lauren. He keeps crying for his mummy.’
I avoided his gaze, thinking that Teddy seemed to have a better grasp of what was happening than anyone else did.
‘Have they said when you can come home?’ he asked.
‘Maybe tomorrow,’ I said, trying to keep my mind off the hideous possibility of such a thing.
Home. Another unknown step into the dark. A place where, unless I woke up as Jessica again soon, I would be expected to play a role I would have to guess at as I went along; to live a life that simply wasn’t mine. I wanted to go home all right, but I wanted to continue with my own life, to be in control of my own destiny. I thought of my mother’s comments about not trying to be Superwoman and bit back tears of frustration. I had always been my own woman—fiercely independent and determined to do things my own way. My life might not have been perfect, but it had been mine. And now I found I wasn’t in control of anything at all. I was being swept along; a mere passenger on a roller-coaster ride that was more terrifying than anything the children could possibly have experienced at Chessington.
I yawned widely, only just covering my mouth at the last minute. Sleep was what I needed now and what I hoped was the key to the door between these two worlds.
Grant got the message. I thought how tired he looked himself as he kissed me lightly on the forehead before heading for the door.
‘Goodnight, sweetheart,’ he whispered as he closed the door behind him. ‘I’ll be back tomorrow.’
‘Goodnight, Grant.’ I sank back against the pillows, realising with a pang of guilt as I watched his retreating back that I was fervently hoping it might be the last I ever saw of him.
When I awoke snuggled in the double duvet in my own bed, the feeling of relief was immense. I still wasn’t convinced that my experience as Lauren was simply a normal dream, there were too many abnormalities, too many questions left unanswered, but I was awake now, I was Jessica again; my body was feeling physically rested and my mind relaxed as if I had merely been deeply asleep and dreaming. Yawning, I luxuriated in the knowledge that I was
