Everything Has Changed Read online

  She wished her scan was sooner. Perhaps the consultant would look at the results and announce that all would be well with her memory in a few weeks. A timetable for amnesia. Now, Mrs Allen, your memory has just been in contact with me and it will be back in a fortnight.

  Victoria closed the bedroom door behind her and sunk to the floor. She sat there for a while feeling the fibres of the carpet under her hand, rough against her fingertips, alone with her thoughts. She needed to remember the car crash. She knew the key was in there, somehow, to her memory. She reached for the box under the bed and hauled it out, opened it slowly and found the tiny ribbon. She felt its soft satin between her two fingers and let the tears fall down her cheek. What had happened? Just then, she noticed another small, old phone nestled under the veil with its charger. She frowned. It looked oddly familiar, yet also strange. She knelt on the floor and plugged it in to a socket on the wall and sat back on her heels.

  What if she could nudge her brain into gear with other physical things? If a pink ribbon could help her remember, what else could? She stood up from the bed and opened her wardrobe doors and looked at her clothes. They looked completely unfamiliar. And then, right at the end of her wardrobe was a long dress encased in a silk covering. That must be her wedding dress. Perhaps it would jolt her brain to remember the day. Or just, for heaven’s sake, remembering the last few years of her life.

  She unzipped the protective cover and felt the material of the dress between her fingers. It was beautiful. Satin silk, spaghetti straps with little daisies sewn in under the bust. She kicked off her shoes and undressed. Then she pulled the dress up over her hips. It skimmed over her like a silk glove, but she couldn’t quite reach the fiddly fasteners at the back so she left it undone. She slid her hands across her hips to flatten it and looked at herself in the mirror, hoping for a memory. She saw a slim, busty woman with mahogany hair falling over one shoulder, a fringe swept to the side, pink lipstick and a pale face. The woman in the mirror wasn’t smiling. Suddenly the door opened and James walked in holding a cup of tea; her hands flew up to her chest where the dress was loose. He opened his mouth to say something, looked at her, then stopped in his tracks. ‘Oh.’

  ‘Hi.’ She smiled at him, searched his eyes for clues.

  ‘Your dad said you needed some tea.’ He glanced at her, blinked, then edged past her and put the cup down on the dressing table. He turned to her then. ‘You’re in your wedding dress. You —’ he stopped mid-sentence, ‘look beautiful.’ He tilted his head to one side and spotted the pink ribbon on the bed. He reached over and picked it up, twisting it in his fingers and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them he looked straight at her. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Looking for memories.’

  His eyes darted between her and the ribbon. ‘Some memories are probably best left hidden, Victoria. The consultant warned against stress.’ He handed the ribbon back to her and their fingers touched briefly.

  ‘I don’t want them hidden, James.’ She sat down with a thump on the bed, with her back to him, but she caught him staring at her in the mirror. And she saw something in his eyes; it was fleeting, as his gaze flicked to her briefly and looked her up and down. But she saw it. And unless she was very much mistaken, there was the tiniest flicker of desire there.

  James sat down on the bed beside her and took the ribbon from her hand and put the soft pink satin up to his face.

  ‘James, I—’

  ‘You were eighteen weeks. You woke me up one night telling me you were in agony. Blood all over the sheets.’ He looked out the window and then back at her. Sunshine flickered across his hair picking up the blonde. ‘We went straight to the hospital. We had a scan – there was no heartbeat.’ James moved the ribbon to his other cheek, rubbed it slowly across his face and then handed it back to her. ‘Can you remember any of it?’

  ‘It comes and goes. The pink ribbon stirred something in me that I couldn’t dislodge. A deep ache inside, but I can’t—’

  ‘Remember. I know.’ He looked down at the carpet. She was aware how close they were sitting. She could smell soap, shaving foam. She wanted to rest her head on his shoulder and let him take away some of the pain.

  ‘And James, we—’ Before she could finish, his phone started to ring. He glanced at her and then fished it out of his back pocket and frowned.

  ‘I need to take this.’ He looked at her, then reached out and touched her shoulder. It was the briefest of touches and it was almost formal. She sat on the bed for a while, processing it all, unable to move as he walked out the room.

  She must have fallen asleep because when she woke up her tea was cold beside her bed.

  She sank back on the pillows and picked up her phone, played back their conversation and then immediately felt furious with herself for playing with fire. Who had she been texting before the accident? Some memories are better left hidden. James’s words echoed in her mind. Enough was enough. She jabbed at the phone and dialled the number as her heart rate gathered speed. But it went straight to an automated voicemail. Just then Izzy walked into the room.

  ‘Hey. What are you doing? Are you OK?’

  Victoria quickly put her phone down. She could feel the heat rising up her cheeks.

  ‘Why are you in, like, fancy dress?’ Izzy squinted at her.

  ‘Oh, right. The dress. Yes. I was just—’ Victoria managed her best Be Nice Smile. ‘I’m trying to remember stuff – um, lots of things, like my wedding. Looking for triggers like the doctor said.’

  Just then the old phone lying on the floor bleeped. Izzy looked over at it. ‘What’s, like, that?’

  Victoria couldn’t help a small laugh at Izzy’s tone. ‘That’s my old phone.’

  ‘Like really old, Mum!’ She went over and picked it up. ‘Fully charged. Amazing. It’s not even a smartphone.’ She handed it to Victoria who stared at the screen, then instinctively went to look at her messages. James’s was the first contact in her messages. She pressed the first one. Izzy leant over. ‘It looks like something from a museum.’

  J: Hey how are you? Cold here.

  The next speech bubble was obviously hers.

  How so? It’s June.

  J: Because you’re not here to warm me up. And it is blooding freezing too! Hotel room boring on my own.

  She snuck a sideways look at her daughter, her face lit up by the screen light.

  She smiled and stroked the old Nokia flip-top phone with her thumb. Where had he been? She couldn’t remember.

  J: How are the donuts?

  They’re good. Cheeky things! What time will you be back?

  J: Friday, after work, four hour drive.

  Miss you.

  J: Not as much as I miss you. Hotel bed too big. Can’t sleep. First presentation at 9am. Nervous as hell.

  Good luck.

  She had memories sliding in and out of her brain. Where had James been? Newcastle? A Premier Inn? Did they still have them? She looked at the thread again.

  J: Don’t go!

  I’m here.

  J: Night, SV. xxx

  ‘Who’s SV, Mum?’

  She rubbed her shoulders. It was getting cold; she lay back on the pillow. She looked up to the ceiling shade with its red fringes and wondered what had made her buy such an awful lampshade. A tear slid down her cheek, she sniffed. ‘Oh, it used to be Dad’s nickname for me.’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘Squishy Vicky, if you must know.’ And just as they both started to giggle, Izzy opened her mouth, but before she could reply, the doorbell went.

  Izzy stood up and peered out the bedroom window. ‘Oh, it’s Cupcake Queen. I’ll go let her in.’

  Had she arranged for Zoe to come round? She really couldn’t remember. She hauled herself off the bed and clutched the banister as Zoe breezed in.

  27 Victoria

  ‘Hey, sexy thing! Look at you!’ Zoe let out a long wolf-whistle, just as James walked past and glanced at Victoria.

  ‘Nic
e outfit! What’s the occasion?’

  Victoria could feel herself get redder. ‘Well, nothing really. I thought it might jog my memory, if I’m honest. Come in.’ She took Zoe into the kitchen and flicked the kettle on. ‘Tea? Listen, let me just pop upstairs and change first.’

  When she got back to the kitchen, they settled into the cosy seats by the window. Zoe took a sip of tea. Pickle was now sitting on the floor by her feet, enjoying the April sun filtering in through the window.

  ‘You OK, hun?’ Zoe leant in and touched Victoria’s knee. ‘You look a bit peaky.’

  There it was again. Peaky. ‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ Victoria took a sip of tea and felt like she was in a pantomime of her own making.

  ‘That dress looked great. Shows off your figure.’ Zoe moved her handbag out of the way and put her cup down on the small coffee table between the two chairs. ‘Hey, I’ve got an idea.’ She tilted her head to one side and studied Victoria. ‘Why don’t you wear something similar to your sis’s wedding? You said she wanted you to be maid of honour?’

  Victoria wiped some tea from her mug with her thumb and looked out to the garden. ‘You know what, I might just do that.’ She jutted out her chin and smiled.

  ‘Anyway, I’m not here to talk about your sister’s wedding, I thought I’d pop round, sweetie, clear a few things up.’ She craned her neck to look at the kitchen door.

  ‘Clear what up?’

  Zoe took another furtive look over her shoulder and whispered. ‘Thought I’d better explain about the whole texting game. You know. Our little secret?’

  Victoria swallowed hard. Too many secrets. She just wanted to press ‘Rewind’ on her life. She wanted the Old Victoria back.

  ‘Zoe. I hate this: my husband treats me like a houseguest, my kids are distant and my dad despairs. My sister thinks I’ve lost my mind, well, I have, I suppose…’ She looked up at Zoe and then they both burst out laughing; Pickle stood up and started to bark at them. But then, the laughter slowly morphed into great big sobs as Victoria took a gulp of air and let the wet tears trickle down her cheek.

  ‘Hey, sweetie, don’t cry.’ Zoe held out a tissue. ‘It’s all OK.’

  ‘It’s not OK! I’ve got these messages. On my phone,’ she hissed. ‘What a mess,’ she wiped her eyes and looked at Zoe.

  ‘I can explain.’

  ‘What?’ Victoria tucked the tissue into her jeans’ pocket and quickly glanced towards the door to make sure they were alone. She looked back at Zoe.

  ‘Look, it was my idea, honey,’ Zoe whispered, putting her cup down. ‘James and you, well, you two were – how can I put it – a bit “broken” and I thought it might be a good idea to spice things up a bit, see if he got jealous. I used one of my old phones and sent you flirty messages. You were going to leave your phone lying around, hoping that he saw it.’

  Victoria’s mouth fell open. A game? She hadn’t had any affairs?

  ‘It was one night when James was away on business and you were pouring your heart out to me, telling me the kids didn’t seem to need you anymore… I was talking about my date the next day, and then you grabbed my phone and asked me to show you my dating app – we’d had far too much to drink, by the way – after that we came up with the idea of the game. Bit of harmless fun. You were up for it,’ Zoe said, her lip-gloss shining in the kitchen lights. ‘Victoria?’

  Victoria just nodded, relieved that the whole thing was a prank.

  ‘Anyway,’ Zoe carried on, ‘I just wanted to make sure you knew what we’d done, what with this,’ she flapped her hands at Victoria, ‘memory thing you’ve got. And I could see how stressed you were.’

  ‘God, Zoe,’ she whispered, ‘that’s the point. I can’t remember. Everything’s so confusing. My marriage seems to be hanging on by a thread.’

  ‘It is. Well, it was—’ Zoe shrugged and took a sip of tea. ‘Look, you guys were stressed after the miscarriage.’ Zoe suddenly made a face. ‘You do remember that, don’t you?’

  ‘I do now,’ she nodded. ‘James just explained it all, but I’d had flashbacks.’ She took a sip of tea and stared out the window. Little pink buds were forming on the azaleas in the border.

  ‘You two just need to get the spark back.’ Zoe touched her knee. ‘His work, the kids, the miscarriage, it kind of ate away at you both. Plus, nobody’s getting any younger. It changes us, this, this,’ she put her hands up in the air and shrugged, ‘you know, mid-life. We all need a bit of reassurance, don’t we?’

  ‘I suppose.’ Victoria sighed.

  ‘I have an idea!’ Zoe sat up straight in her chair. ‘How about—’

  ‘What?’

  ‘We play the game again? Now that you know it’s me? Don’t look at me like that! Listen, all you have to do is leave your phone out for him to see? See if the spark’s still there? What do you say? Bit of good old-fashioned jealousy? No harm done.’

  Victoria wasn’t sure at all. There had been the smallest flicker of a connection between them in the bedroom when they were talking. She didn’t want things to blow up in her face. ‘I don’t know Zoe—’

  ‘I do,’ she said, leaning forward putting her elbows on her knee. ‘Did you see the way James looked at you in the hall? Now there’s a man who’s not going anywhere, let me tell you. Honey, you’re halfway there. I bet you two sort things out. He just needs a nudge.’ Zoe wagged a green painted fingernail at her.

  ‘I’m not sure Zoe.’ Victoria was shaking her head.

  ‘Look, leave it with me. I’ll just send a few. Leave your phone around where he can see – OK? That will get his attention.’ She grinned. ‘I might even send a fake “selfie”.’

  ‘I’m not sure he wants to give me any attention, Zoe. I think he’s past that.’

  ‘Trust me, he isn’t, babe, if he really was past all that, he’d move out.’

  Perhaps Zoe had a point.

  28 Victoria

  It was the day before Lulu’s wedding. They were having a ‘girly afternoon’ at a local spa with lunch by the pool. It was Lulu’s day, Victoria had reminded herself as they’d swum a few laps in the pool, splashing each other, then swanned around in white fluffy robes; she told herself to put her problems aside. They’d posed in their gowns and taken selfies – Victoria rather liked this new invention – and sent them to their dad, and she was just scraping the last of her Eton mess from a pretty crystal glass. It was blissfully quiet as they both wiggled their purple toenails, drying their pedicures.

  Lulu picked up a strawberry and popped it in her mouth. ‘Who was the worst teenager, do you think?’ She looked over at Victoria and raised her eyebrows.

  ‘You!’ Victoria laughed, then leant her head to one side and studied Lulu in her soft white robe, silver bangles stacked up at her wrist as she wiped chocolate off her robe. ‘Remember when you snuck out the house to that party when you were sixteen, hid some cans of cider under the bushes in the front garden? Mum and Dad were horrified!’

  Lulu swept some hair off her face. ‘Yeah, but it was fun though. And the next morning Mum knew I’d been up to something coz I had glitter all over my face?’

  Victoria’s hand flew up to her face. ‘God, yes. I’d forgotten about that. I covered for you – told Mum we’d played dress-ups. As if!’ They both burst out laughing.

  ‘Remember that time I sneaked out the back door so Mum and Dad didn’t hear me, to meet that guy – what was his name, the Goth, the one in Upper Sixth?’ Lulu grinned. ‘Martin, yes. Mum and Dad went mental when they found out I’d been to the pub – but I only did it coz of peer pressure.’

  Victoria did remember that. She nodded. Lulu had been covered in make-up that day. Black lipstick, spiky blonde hair, before she grew it long and let the curls take over. It was before the days of producing ID and the local landlord used to turn a blind eye to Lulu. Fourth form? The year Izzy is in now. Peer pressure? There was a nagging somewhere in her brain.

  ‘Yeah, I was no angel, I did do a lot of stupid things,’ Lulu carried on an
d rolled her eyes. ‘Anyway, now,’ she said lifting her leg and twisting her foot to admire her lilac toes, ‘we’re both grown-ups aren’t we?’ She shot her a look. ‘We know better.’

  Victoria nodded. There was a well of emotion she was pushing down. ‘Yup. We grew up, got married, had twins, before—’ She hesitated, not wanting to finish the sentence.

  ‘Before you lost the baby, you mean? Oh, hun.’ Lulu reached over and rubbed her arm.

  A bubble of longing surged up inside Victoria, and it came whenever she thought about the miscarriage. What had happened afterwards? She pulled the dressing gown tighter across her bust then shook her head. ‘I don’t want to talk about it, Lulu, this is your day.’ She tried to smile.

  ‘It’s fine, Vicky – it’s good to have some peace and quiet, we can chat.’

  Victoria closed her eyes. ‘There are pages and pages missing from my life.’

  Lulu sat back in her seat and folded her long legs. ‘Well, I’ll try and fill some in. I remember you told me once that one of your greatest fears was of the twins leaving, “the sound of silence”, you said. No one clattering up the stairs, no one opening the fridge, no one shouting at their sister for leaving a million shampoos in the shower, you said it terrified you – not long after that you got pregnant. I know you’d been trying for a while.’

  ‘We’d been trying for years, I can remember that.’

  ‘It was an awful time. You wouldn’t talk to me about going to hospital, when you found out you’d lost it—’ She reached out and touched Victoria’s hand. ‘But I knew you were on anti-depressants after that.’ Lulu let out a long breath. ‘A lot changed between you and James, just small stuff started to niggle you, he was away, you were blaming yourself – both of you took it quite badly, actually, and somehow rather than bringing you two together, it seemed to put a wedge between you.’

  My body doesn’t work. She had a vague memory of saying it in a heated argument, a door slamming, and then this sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, like the times when your parents had left you at school, ruffled your hair, said ‘you’ll be alright’ as you stared – petrified – into the classroom. That kind of sinking feeling. James driving away. Again. Why hadn’t he reached out for her?