Remember Me?

I can see the shock reverberate through his face, but he manages a smile. “Yes. That’s right. I’m Eric. You still don’t know me?”

“Not really. In fact…not at all.”

“I told you,” Mum chips in, shaking her head. “I’m so sorry, Eric. But I’m sure she’ll remember soon, if she makes a real effort.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I shoot her an affronted look.

“Well, darling,” she says, “these things are all a matter of willpower, I’ve read. Mind over matter.”

“I’m trying to remember, okay?” I say indignantly. “You think I want to be like this?”

“We’ll take it slowly,” Eric says, ignoring Mum. He sits down on the bed. “Let’s see if we can trigger some memories. May I?” He gestures toward my hand.

“Um…yes. Okay.” I nod, and he takes my hand in his. It’s a nice hand, warm and firm. But it’s a stranger’s hand.

“Lexi, it’s me,” he says in firm, resonant tones. “It’s Eric. Your husband. We’ve been married for nearly two years.”

I’m too mesmerized to reply. He’s even better-looking up close. His skin is really smooth and tan, and his teeth are a perfect gleaming white…

Oh my God-I’ve had sex with this man shoots through my mind.

He’s seen me naked. He’s ripped my underwear off. We’ve done who-knows-what together and I don’t even know him. At least…I assume he’s ripped my underwear off and we’ve done who-knows-what. I can’t exactly ask, with Mum in the room.

I wonder what he’s like in bed. Surreptitiously I run my eyes over his body. Well, I married him. He must be pretty good, surely…

“Is something on your mind?” Eric has noticed my wandering gaze. “Darling, if you have any questions, just ask away…”

“Nothing!” I flush. “Nothing. Sorry. Carry on.”

“We met nearly three years ago,” Eric continues, “at a reception at Pyramid TV. They make Ambition, the reality show we were both involved in. We were attracted instantly. We were married in June and honeymooned in Paris. We had a suite at the George V. It was wonderful. We went to Montmartre, we visited the Louvre, we had café au lait every morning…” He breaks off. “Do you recall any of this?”

“Not really,” I say, feeling guilty. “Sorry.”

Maybe Mum’s right. I should try harder to remember. Come on. Paris. The Mona Lisa. Men with stripy shirts. Think. I cast my mind back, desperately trying to match his face with images of Paris, to trigger some memory…

“Did we go up the Eiffel Tower?” I say at last.

“Yes!” His face lights up. “Are you starting to remember? We stood in the breeze and took photos of each other-”

“No.” I cut him off. “I just guessed. You know, Paris…Eiffel Tower…it seemed quite likely.”

“Ah.” He nods with obvious disappointment, and we lapse into silence. To my slight relief, there’s a knock at the door and I call out, “Come in!”

Nicole enters, holding a clipboard. “Just need to do a quick blood pressure check-” She breaks off as she sees Eric holding my hand. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Don’t worry!” I say. “This is Nicole, one of the nurses who’s been looking after me.” I gesture around the room. “This is my mum, and sister…and my husband, who’s called”-I meet her eyes significantly-“Eric.”

“Eric!” Nicole’s eyes light up. “Very nice to meet you, Eric.”

“It’s a pleasure.” Eric nods at her. “I’m eternally grateful to you for looking after my wife.”

Wife. My stomach flips over at the word. I’m his wife. This is all so grownup. I bet we have a mortgage, too. And a burglar alarm.

“My pleasure.” Nicole gives him a professional smile. “Lexi’s a great patient.” She wraps the blood pressure cuff around my arm and turns to face me. “I’ll just pump this up…”

“He’s gorgeous!” she mouths, giving me a surreptitious thumbs-up, and I can’t help beaming back.

It’s true. My husband is officially gorgeous. I’ve never even had a date with anyone in his league before. Let alone get married to them. Let alone go and eat croissants in the George V hotel.

“I’d very much like to make a donation to the hospital,” Eric says to Nicole, his deep, actory voice filling the room. “If you have any special appeal or fund…”

“That would be wonderful!” exclaims Nicole. “We’ve got an appeal right now for a new sca

“Maybe I could run the marathon for it?” he suggests. “I run every year for a different cause.”

I’m nearly bursting with pride. None of my other boyfriends has ever run the marathon. Loser Dave could barely make it from the sofa to the TV.

“Well!” says Nicole, raising her eyebrows as she lets the blood pressure cuff deflate. “It’s a real pleasure to meet you, Eric. Lexi, your pressure looks fine…” She writes something on my notes. “Is that your lunch there?” she adds, noticing the untouched tray.

“Oh yes. I forgot all about it.”

“You must eat. And I’m going to ask everyone not to stay too much longer.” She turns to Mum and Amy. “I know you want to spend time with Lexi, but she’s still fragile. She needs to take it easy.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes.” Eric clasps my hand. “I just want my wife well again.”

Mum and Amy start to gather their things-but he stays put.

“I’d like a few moments, just the two of us,” he says. “If that’s okay, Lexi?”

“Oh,” I say with a dart of apprehension. “Er…fine!”

Mum and Amy both come over to hug me good-bye, and Mum makes another quick attempt to straighten my hair. Then the door closes behind them and I’m left alone with Eric, in a still, strange silence.

“So,” Eric says at last.

“So. This is…weird.” I attempt a little laugh, which immediately peters out to nothing. Eric is gazing at me, his brow furrowed.

“Have the doctors said whether you’ll ever retrieve your memories?”

“They think I will. But they don’t know when.”

Eric gets up and strides to the window, appearing lost in thought. “So it’s a waiting game,” he says at last. “Is there anything I can do to speed the process?”

“I don’t know,” I say helplessly. “Maybe you could tell me some more about us and our relationship?”

“Absolutely. Good idea.” He turns, his frame silhouetted against the window. “What do you want to know about? Ask me anything at all.”

“Well…where do we live?”

“We live in Kensington in a loft-style apartment.” He proclaims the words as though they’re capitalized. “That’s my business. Loft-style living.” As he says the phrase loft-style living he makes a sweeping, parallel-hands gesture, as though he’s moving bricks along a conveyor belt.

Wow. We live in Kensington! I cast around for another question to ask, but it all seems so arbitrary, like I’m padding out time in an interview.

“What sort of things do we do together?” I say eventually.

“We eat fine food, we watch movies…We went to the ballet last week. Had di

“The Ivy?” I can’t help gasping. I’ve been to di

Why can’t I remember any of this? I shut my eyes tightly, trying to mentally kick-start my brain into action. But…nothing.

At last I open my eyes again, feeling a bit dizzy, to see Eric has noticed the rings on the cabinet. “That’s your wedding ring, isn’t it?” He looks up, puzzled. “Why is it here?”

“They took it off for the scans,” I explain.

“Shall I?” He picks up the ring and takes hold of my left hand.

I feel a sudden prickle of alarm.

“I…um…no…” Before I can stop myself I yank my hand away and Eric flinches. “I’m sorry,” I say after an awkward pause. “I’m really sorry. I just…you’re a stranger.”

“Of course.” Eric has turned away, still holding the ring. “Of course. Stupid of me.”

Oh God, he looks really hurt. I shouldn’t have said “stranger.” I should have said “friend I haven’t met yet.”

“I’m really sorry, Eric.” I bite my lip. “I do want to know you and…love you and everything. You must be a really wonderful person or I wouldn’t have married you. And you look really good,” I add encouragingly. “I wasn’t expecting anyone nearly so handsome. I mean, my last boyfriend wasn’t a patch on you.”