31.1.16

22 - Found

Dover proved to be a challenge. After leaving her car in the car park of the third hospital on her list, Clare made her way to the reception desk. She did not get that far. A nurse turned white with shock when she saw her.
“I’ve just sent you back to the ward and here you are again, Edith. You mustn’t leave the hospital on your own.”
“I’m not Edith. I’m Clare, Edith’s twin sister.”
“That’s a relief. You gave me a terrible fright. Edith had only just gone round the corner to the lifts and you appeared as if from nowhere.”
“Sorry about that. Edith has probably forgotten all about me so she wouldn’t have mentioned me, would she?”
“No. She can only just about remember her own first name. She was too exhausted for the tests.”
“I’d better go and see if my appearance jogs her memory, then.”
“Yes, do that! 3rd floor, room 318.”
The receptionist pointed in the direction of the lifts.
“Don’t you want to come with me?” Clare asked.
“Not necessary. You are so like your sister, that is like having a visiting card, and anyway, visitors are welcome on that ward. It sometimes helps the patients if they see that they are not forgotten even when they have forgotten everything.”
Clare thanked her and made her way to the women’s psychiatric ward. The people being treated there were mostly victims of burnout syndrome or some other modern complaint, so they could come and go as they liked so long as they said where they were going and did not leave the building. Clare assumed that the receptionist nurse in the foyer was making sure no patient left.
It was a pleasant ward, almost like a hotel, with flowers everywhere and a community corner where you could find company if you felt like it. Edith was not there so she must have returned to her room.
Clare knocked on 318 before entering. Edith looked up from the magazine she had been leafing through. She did not remember Clare.
“Hello Edith, how are you?”
Clare had no idea how to deal with the situation. Edith was agitated by hearing her name from someone she thought was a stranger. She rang the alarm bell and a nurse came hurrying in. She was shocked to see two versions of Edith. Edith was visibly distressed.
“Good gracious! Who are you?”
Since Clare was wearing warm jacket and Edith was sitting on her bed clad on her night clothes, there was no problem detecting who was the visitor.
“I’m Clare. I’ve come to collect my sister and take her home.”
“I see. You look identical. You must have scared the nurse downstairs out of her wits.”
“I did.”
The ward nurse turned to Edith to ask her if she knew the lady standing in front of her.
“I’m not sure. Her face seems familiar.”
“Why don’t we all go and stand in front of the wide mirror in the bathroom?” the nurse suggested.
“I don’t see how that will help.”
“Wait and see.”
The nurse put her arm through Edith’s and spirited her into the bathroom. Beckoning Clare to wait a moment, she stood herself and Edith in front of the mirror.
“You can see me, can’t you, Edith?”
Edith nodded.
“And you are next to me, aren’t you?”
Edith nodded again.
The nurse beckoned to Clare to join them.
“Now look at the lady on the other side of me.”
Edith looked surprised.
“She looks just like me, doesn’t she?”
Now it was Clare’s turn to speak.
“I’m Clare. I’m your twin sister. Don’t you remember me at all?”
The nurse was starting to think Edith was playing a game with them, but she wasn’t. It took several minutes of standing and looking before Edith finally said she thought she remembered Clare, but she wasn’t sure.
“Let’s go and have a coffee in the community corner, Edith. Then I’ll tell you about us. I’ve got a photo of us when we were little. You might remember that.”
Clare did not want to admit it, but Edith’s lack of recognition had shaken her. How could you forget your twin sister? What nightmare had caused Edith to become so disorientated?
Later, Clare went to the psychiatrist’s office to introduce herself. The doctor was so taken aback at the striking likeness that Clare had to prove her own identity officially, in case Edith was playing some kind of trick, as amnesia patients sometimes did. After that Clare took Edith to the hospital cafĂ© and ordered coffee and Edith’s favourite cake. Anything that could awaken lost memories was to be tried, the psychiatrist had told Clare. Little things, details, might help more than some sort of dramatic confrontation, though that had also been known to work. Most of all, it was important to find out what was troubling the patient. Clare assured him that she would do what she could to restore order in poor Edith’s mind.
Clare found it hard to start a conversation with someone who was her closest relative but seemed to be unaware of it.
“I really like chocolate muffins,” enthused Edith.”How did you know?’
“I remembered,” said Clare. “Do you remember making them at home?”
“‘Home? What home?”
“Upper Grumpsfield, Edith.”
“Oh, Upper Grumpsfield. That was the name on the bus ticket in my jacket pocket.”
“That’s right.”
“Is that where I live, Clare?”
“Yes.”
Clare realized that getting Edith back into reality was going to be difficult. Her sister had glossed over the topic of muffins. She seemed to be wracking her brains for some hint of what had happened to her.
“You live at the vicarage, Edith.”
“Do I? I can’t remember...except...”
“Go on. Just say anything that comes into your mind,” said Clare.
“Priscilla. Who’s Priscilla?”
Clare had been expecting the children’s names, even Frederick’s, but certainly not the name of the household pet.
“She’s your cat, Edith.”
“I used to get cross with her for killing birds.”
“Yes, you did.”
“But she was only following her instincts ... and she hated Minor.”
“Who’s Minor?”
“Why, that was Dorothy’s dog. But he’s dead now. Run over...”
Edith relapsed into silence. Clare thought she was skimming round anything that had been stressful, but she was at least starting to remember things.
“Who is Dorothy, Clare?”
“She’s an old friend of....the vicar’s. She gives the piano lessons to Albert”
Edith had relapsed into a troubled silence. She did not react to the name of her eldest son. Clare did not pursue the lead. She didn’t want to upset Edith by telling her she had left her children behind.
“Piano teacher? That reminds me of something else, but what?”
“Don’t worry about it. Let’s check you out of the hospital. I’ll tell you more about Dorothy in the car on the way home.”
“Yes. I’d like that...I think.”
Having talked things over with the psychiatrist, she fell in with the idea of getting Edith to  a therapist who could help her regain her memory and find out what was troubling her. Armed with the hospital psychiatrist’s report, Clare packed Edith’s things in her little suitcase and said they could leave.
Edith did not seem to be distressed. Clare was convinced that she would get her memory back fairly quickly, but that it was vital to find out what she was running away from. They would stop off at a motel and finish the drive home the following morning. That would give Edith more time to recover from her misadventure and Clare could perhaps jog her memory some more. Once back home, Edith would go to a therapist and things would gradually improve. Clare would make sure she was left in peace.
Most important, Edith must be shielded from whatever had caused her to run away until she was ready to confront it, so whatever investigating Clare did would go in the direction of finding out what had really happened, and for that she would be glad to call on Cleo and Dorothy for help.
The hospital psychiatrist had been satisfied that everything would be all right. Clare was competent and Edith trusted her. And they were as like as two peas in a pod, after all.
Back in Upper Grumpsfield two other peas in a pod were making Beatrice’s life difficult. The two youngest boys, Daniel and Edmond, might only be six years old, but they had already realized that their identical looks could be used to their advantage. At school they played little games with their teachers, giving the same name, or switching names and desks, or both answering when one name was called. Now they were annoying Beatrice by claiming to be the other twin, whichever one she spoke to. Beatrice stopped calling them by their names and started referring to them as ‘you two’. She wondered if there was any way of distinguishing them. She hadn’t found one yet!
Clare did not force Edith to talk during the journey. They drove in silence most of the time before taking a break.
“We’ll leave the motorway and look for somewhere nice to have dinner and stay the night, Edith.”
The guesthouse Clare chose was on the brow of a hill and had a magnificent view of the countryside. Clare booked a room. Edith was tired so she lay on her bed and rested. Clare rang Beatrice to tell her where they were.
“We’ll be in Upper Grumpsfield by lunchtime tomorrow,” she said.
“Why don’t you come this evening? The bishop’s arriving tomorrow afternoon.”
“I can’t help that. Edith is tired and so am I, so we’ve decided to break our journey.”
“That is most inconvenient. Edith is needed here.”
“Tell Frederick we’ll be back tomorrow and I hope you will treat Edith with more consideration than you have in the past,” said Clare. Beatrice always made her blood boil.
Clare slammed the phone down. Edith opened her eyes.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you”
“Who were you talking to, Clare?”
“Beatrice.”
“Who’s that?”
How much had Edith overheard? Clare decided to play safe.
“She’s the vicar’s sister.”
Edith accepted that explanation at face value.
“Do you remember St Peter’s church, Edith?”
That seemingly innocuous question caused Edith’s brow to furrow.
“Should I?”
“Oh, never mind that for now. Put your shoes on and we’ll go for a walk before dinner.”
Whatever had happened to Edith seemed to be so deep-seated that she was quite unable to remember it. Their dinner was tasty. The sisters sat in their hotel room for a while and watched TV. But Edith was very tired. She had been sleeping for 2 hours when Clare finally got into bed and tried to sleep. She had sent a text to Karl to let him know where she was. Karl had replied saying he missed her, and Clare spent much of the night wondering whether they really did have a future together. Right now she was tied up with Edith’s dilemma.
During the rest of the drive home, Clare told Edith a lot about herself and Karl and stimulated Edith’s long-term memory with stories about hers and Edith’s childhood. By the time they reached the vicarage just before midday on Saturday, Edith was feeling much better. Her main concern now was what would happen when she was confronted with her husband. Clare had told her his name was Frederick. Would she know him? Was he the last person she wanted to see? Had she been running away from him? So many unanswered questions.
***
When the vicarage came into view, Edith remarked that the building looked familiar, but she couldn’t place it. They were greeted at the front door by Beatrice, who had seen the car approaching.
“Well, come in,” she said in an irritated tone. “Lunch is almost ready.”
Edith looked at her without any sign of recognition.
“This is Beatrice, the person I phoned last night,” Clare explained. Edith walked past her into the hall. Then the study door opened and Frederick Parsnip emerged. Edith stopped in her tracks and her eyes welled up with tears. Clare quickly took charge.
“Don’t say anything yet,” she told him. “Edith is tired. We’ll go upstairs.”
“What about lunch?” Beatrice wanted to know.
“Later.”
“Well, don’t wait too long. It’ll all be cold.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Clare led Edith into her bedroom.
“Was that man downstairs the vicar, Clare?”
“Yes.”
“Is this his bedroom?”
“Don’t you remember anything about this room?”
Edith shook her head.
Clare decided she would have to explain the situation to a certain extent.
“You used to sleep in that bed, Edith,” Clare said, pointing to the one next to the door.”
Edith looked horrified.
“But that must mean...”
“It means that the vicar is your husband.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t worry. He usually sleeps in that bed in the other corner, but he can sleep in the guest room and I’ll sleep in his bed.”
Clare was determined to protect her sister from whatever had been troubling her. At the moment, it looked as though Frederick might be connected in some way with the amnesia, though the distance between the beds spoke a language that did not include intimacy or closeless.
Children’s voices shouting mummy and a stampede up the stairs announced the arrival of the five boys on the scene.
Edith looked at them and then at Clare.
“These are your children, Edith.”
The boys had no difficulty in deciding which twin was their mother. Edith greeted the boys solemnly and asked them their names. Clare did not know how Beatrice had prepared the boys for this meeting, but they seemed to be taking it in their stride.
“Come and see our rooms!” they invited. Even a mummy who didn’t know who them was better than bossy-britches-Beatrice. She couldn’t cook, either.
After a while, Edith found her way back to her bedroom.
“Clare, what happened to me? Why can’t I remember things?”
“It’ll take time, but you’ve remembered the boys now, haven’t you.”
To Clare’s relief Edith said she had. They were lovely. How could she have thought of leaving them behind?
“You probably didn’t know you were going anywhere, Edith.”
Clare said that to comfort Edith. In fact, Edith had packed things in a suitcase, so some part of her brain had been intent on going somewhere.
“But no one leaves her children,” said Edith, upset that she had been negligent. “Surely a mother’s instinct would prevent that.”
“Not if something even stronger or more horrific took her away, Edith.”
Edith’s face clouded over.
“There was a phone call. I remember a phone call now, but I don’t remember who it was from.”
Though Edith was remembering snippets, her memory was still blotting out what was evidently at the heart of the problem. Clare snapped up that piece of information, however. Perhaps the vicar knew who had phoned.
“I don’t think I want to talk to my...the vicar yet.”
The late lunch was accompanied by a tirade from Beatrice, who told Edith and Clare not to expect their food to taste good since it was now all cold. Clare told her to shut up and went briefly to the study to talk to the vicar, hoping that Beatrice would not lay into Edith while she was gone.
“Edith can’t remember anything about you, Frederick. Can you remember what happened the last time you were together? Did you say something terrible to her?”
“Me? No, of course not.”
“Did she get a phone call?”
“Not while I was here, but I went to the church to meditate. Anyway, who would phone Edith and say something terrible?”
It was useless talking to Frederick. Either he had failed to comprehend the seriousness of the situation or he was telling lies.
“Well, just keep out of the way today, Frederick.”
“I can’t do that. The bishop’s arriving any minute.”
“I’ll handle the bishop.”
“He won’t know who you are.”
“Right in one, Frederick. He’ll think I’m Edith and I’ll tell him I have a headache and go to my room.”
“Well, if you think that will work.”

“Can you think of a better solution?”