Where the Memories Lie

 

As I stopped at a set of traffic lights, I glanced out the window and caught sight of a woman walking up the street. She was slim and busty, her clothes showing off her best assets. Her long hair bounced on her shoulders as she walked in very high ? and very uncomfortable-looking ? stilettos that defied the laws of gravity.

 

She looked so much like my childhood friend Katie, who’d left the village ages ago, that the breath caught in my throat for a moment.

 

Was that her? I hadn’t seen her in years. I craned my neck, trying to get a proper look as she hurried past on the opposite side of the road, just the back of her now visible on the busy street. The traffic lights changed and someone sounded their horn behind me. By the time I’d driven along, she’d disappeared. I shook my head. No, it couldn’t have been her.

 

My Mini crunched to a stop on the gravel car parking area at Mountain View, and I got out and walked up the steps to the reception.

 

‘Hi, Mrs Tate.’ Kelly, the very perky receptionist, smiled at me.

 

‘Hi, how are you?’ I smiled back and wrote in the visitors’ book, recording the same things as usual: my name and address, who I was there to see, my vehicle registration number and the time I’d arrived.

 

‘I’m pretty good, thanks. Just counting the days until my holiday now.’

 

‘How exciting. Where are you off to?’

 

‘Portugal. Have you ever been?’

 

‘No, but I hear it’s nice.’ I put the pen back on top of the book as her phone rang.

 

The smell of disinfectant, laced with pine, vomit, boiled carrots and a hint of lavender, hit my nostrils as I headed up the corridor to the nurses’ station in Tom’s wing. Eau de Nursing Home.

 

‘Hi, Mary. How is he?’ I asked the head nurse, who was looking down at a folder of notes on her desk.

 

10

 

Where the Memories Lie She gave me a half smile and I immediately knew something was wrong.

 

‘What is it? Is Tom OK?’ I didn’t want any more bad news today.

 

‘Yes, he’s OK, it’s just . . . I wanted to talk to you before you pop in and see him.’

 

I leaned my hip against the desk.

 

‘For the last few days he’s been very agitated. More than usual, I mean. He says he’s having bad dreams, about a woman called Georgia.’

 

‘Well, as you know, he’s suffered from nightmares for years.’

 

‘Yes, but these seem different. When he wakes up afterwards, it takes us a long time to calm him down again, and he keeps saying Georgia is haunting him.’

 

‘Georgia?’ I frowned. ‘As far as I know, he doesn’t know anyone called Georgia.’

 

‘Ah, well, that’s what I wanted to ask. He said she’d gone missing.’

 

‘Missing?’ I pursed my lips, thinking. ‘No, it doesn’t ring any bells.’

 

‘I’m sure it’s just the usual confusion, but when he said she was missing, I wanted to check with you.’

 

I shook my head. ‘No, I’ve never heard him mention anything like that before. Did he say anything else about her?’

 

‘Not really.’

 

‘You know what he’s like. Sometimes when he watches TV, he thinks the characters are people he knows. Sometimes he doesn’t recognise the family anymore, or thinks Nadia is his wife and Ethan is his brother. I’m sure it’s nothing.’

 

‘The other day, he was convinced I was someone he went to school with.’ She nodded and rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

 

‘I’ll let you know if he says anything else, though.’ I headed past her desk to his room at the end of the corridor.

 

11