legal papers and documents onto the computer. I also assisted one of the solicitors by researching areas of law for cases he was working on, took dictation and transcribed records, proofread letters and legal documents and, more interestingly, attended court, police stations and client meetings to take notes.
Aspiring to become a solicitor myself in the near future, I had been about to embark on a law degree and didn’t have much time to myself, let alone to consider marriage or children.
The memory brought me up short. Perhaps it was time to tell the truth. ‘It’s not that I’ve lost my memory,’ I tried to explain to the man beside me. ‘I have memories—it’s just that they’re different from the ones you say I should have.’
‘We should ask Dr Shakir about it.’ Grant eyed me suspiciously. ‘There may be some medical condition that has sparked unreal memories in you.’
I remembered the notes I had transcribed the last time I had been in the office, realising that I could recall them almost word for word. I pictured my boss’s diary, where I had entered the times and dates of his appointments with clients and his court appearances for the following week. I could even remember what I’d had for supper on Friday evening after getting in late from work.
‘My memories are real to me,’ I told him.
Grant shook his head tiredly. ‘I don’t know, Lauren. This is hard for me to take in too. I’ve been awake all night, waiting for you to come round. And the children are missing you, they’re really confused…’
He broke off, giving me a sideways glance, and I noticed him anxiously twisting the wedding ring on his finger. I looked down at my own left hand, which because of the pain in my shoulder had been tucked under the covers. While he watched, I peeled away a corner of the white hospital tape that was holding the drip in place, exposing my ring finger. I gasped. A thin gold band gleamed back at me.
This was one hell of a dream, I told myself, hastily covering the ring over again with the tape. But dream or otherwise, I hadn’t missed the signs of anxiety in his demeanour when he’d mentioned the children. Despite the extraordinary circumstances, my curiosity was aroused.
‘What else?’ I queried, ‘about the children? You were holding something back then.’
‘I was going to add, “especially Teddy”,’ Grant said quietly.
‘Teddy?’
‘Edward, the younger of the twin boys,’ he explained. ‘There were complications at their birth. Toby was breech, and took a long time coming out. Teddy didn’t get enough oxygen to his brain while Toby was being born. He’s got…learning difficulties.’
I pondered this last piece of news with a sinking heart. I might be experiencing a vivid dream, but I was still here, living this life until I awoke, and it seemed to be getting more complicated by the second. How could I be capable of being a mother to all those children? Especially a child with special needs. What sort of wonder woman had this Lauren been? I hoped I would wake up soon, because if Dr Shakir was right and this was somehow real, I seriously doubted that I would ever be able to match up to her.
I suddenly felt very tired. Something in my face must have alerted Grant to my impending exhaustion, and he stood up quietly. ‘I’ll take the children home,’ he said, stooping to plant a kiss on my forehead. This time I didn’t turn my face away, but he must have seen the flicker of apprehension in my eyes because I saw the sorrow etched upon his face.
‘I hope the children won’t be upset not to see me,’ I murmured guiltily.
‘They’ll cope for now,’ he answered firmly. ‘We all will. Look,’ he added, ‘can I bring them back this afternoon, when you’ve rested?’
I nodded, wishing I had the courage to refuse him, but it seemed so petty when the children were obviously missing their mother so much, and anyway, I told myself, I might have woken up by then.
As the door closed behind him, I lay back against the pillows with a groan. ‘You’d better be wrong, Dr Shakir,’ I mumbled to the ceiling. ‘I’m Jessica, not Lauren. I’ll wake up soon and prove I’m still me.’
Grant returned later with a huge bunch of flowers that the nurse put in a large vase next to the small vase containing the flowers one of the girls had brought me earlier. Nurse Sally, as she liked to be known, had extracted the flowers from the child before the family had left, promising her I would get them.
‘Sunflowers, my favourite!’ I exclaimed when Nurse Sally had left us alone together.
Grant looked intently at me, hope lighting his features. ‘You’ve always loved them,’ he whispered, taking my hand. Do you remember that month-long holiday we took in Provence, before we had the children? Those fields of towering sunflowers seemed to go on forever and we filled all the jars and vases in the villa with them. ’
‘I love sunflowers in my real life,’ I replied stubbornly. ‘The life where I’m not married and have no children.’
‘Stop it, Lauren,’ Grant said, abruptly letting go of my hand. ‘There is no other life!’ He closed his eyes for a moment, as if to contain himself, then opened them again, and even though I hardly knew him I thought he looked drained and weary. ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m struggling with this as much as you are. I don’t know what to do.’ He sank down onto the visitor’s chair and ran a hand tiredly over his eyes. ‘I can’t bear it that you don’t remember us,’ he said quietly. ‘All those years, all the experiences we’ve shared, the loves, the sorrows, the energy we’ve put into our children. If you don’t recall any of it, it’s as if it’s all gone, it might as well never have happened. I feel like I’ve lost you.’
He leaned towards me, but I instinctively pulled back from him and he regarded me with haunted eyes. ‘I love you, Lauren. When they called to say you’d been rushed in here, and that your heart had stopped, I thought you were dead. Have you any idea how that feels? I thought I’d lost you forever, and I realised I couldn’t bear it. When the doctors said you’d live, I was so, so grateful. But you’re not really here with us, are you? I’ve lost you after all.’
I stared at him in dismay, not wanting to hurt this stranger, but unable to help him either. It was bad enough that I’d unwittingly arrived into this nightmare, but now I had this man’s distress to cope with too. Why wouldn’t I wake up? I’d never dreamed so long and so realistically before; not even when I’d eaten cheese or indulged in spicy foods before going to bed. Once, when I’d eaten a particularly hot curry when out with my girlfriends, I had dreamed strange haunting dreams on and off all night; but never anything like this. How long would it last?
I looked into his tortured face, saw the tears not far away, and realised that while I was here I was going to have to deal with the situation as best I could.
‘I’m sorry, Grant. I didn’t want any of this to happen,’ I told him quietly. ‘It isn’t anyone’s fault. I understand that you want things to be like they were before, but they can’t be. I don’t remember being your wife. I don’t want to be Lauren. There’s nothing I can do about it.’
He stared at me with tear-filled eyes, then rose from the chair and came to perch on the edge of the bed. He took my hand in his and squeezed it, and it took all my willpower to leave it where it was.
‘You’ll stay with us, though, won’t you?’ he asked. ‘You won’t leave us?’
I
