‘What things? What is it precisely that you think this is? Could it be this Capgras Syndrome you mentioned previously? Is that what you really think?’
The specialist took in a deep breath. ‘It’s a possibility but I’m not an expert. I’ve been in touch with a colleague in Ontario who’s worked with Capgras Syndrome. He’s written a paper on it. I’ve asked him to see Laura when he’s next here.’
‘And when’s that?’
‘Next month.’
‘Next month.’ Ed stood up and marched to the window. He looked out at the garden – at some kind of pink-flowered bush alongside an oak bench in a walled courtyard. He stared for a moment at the blooms. He didn’t recognise the plant. He found himself longing for the pink camellias outside his flat back in London. Campion in the hedgerows on childhood holidays in Cornwall. The familiar. Familiar flowers. Their familiar flat back in England. All the familiar places where they had been so happy.
‘Maybe I should take Laura back to England. See what the doctors there can do.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Ed.’ It was Laura’s mother. ‘She can’t even be in the same room as you.’
And then suddenly it was too much. The alien pink blooms slowly blurring before his eyes, though it was a while before he realised why.
Suddenly he could feel a tennis racket in his hand. An ache deep, deep in his stomach. An awareness that the life he had known was over.
And just like that boy in the head teacher’s study, he could once more feel silent tears dripping from his chin on to his shirt.
CHAPTER 27
THE MOTHER
‘I still don’t believe it.’ I feel giddy. ‘You’ve been married before and you didn’t tell me?’
We’re in the nurses’ small office at the entrance to the ward. I hate that we’ve had to leave Gemma with a nurse in the cubicle. I feel real physical distress to be out in this other world, away from our girl. What if we miss something? What if this is the very time that Gemma opens her eyes?
I feel light-headed, my arms tingling. ‘I’m sorry. I feel faint again.’
‘Sit on the floor. I’ll fetch a nurse.’
‘No. I don’t want a nurse.’
‘Well – put your head forward. I’ll get some tea with sugar.’
‘I want you to go.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Rachel. We need to talk. And I can’t leave you like this.’
He doesn’t move and so I lower myself to the floor and put my head forward. Ed just watches and we wait a few moments in silence. I’m thinking of my mother sitting on the floor of the kitchen crying all those years ago. I still feel giddy but I don’t think I’m going to faint after all. I just need to wait a while and I need Ed not to be here.
‘I’m fine. I’m going to be fine. Just go. Please.’
At last Ed leaves the room and I’m relieved to be alone, words spinning around my head. Laura. Canada. Some ridiculous syndrome I’ve never heard of. That he probably made up to try to make his lies look better. I can hardly believe it. Ed married before. I find that I’m not only disorientated but jealous. What was she like – this first wife? This first choice? I have my eyes closed and am trying to work out what to do next when I hear the door again and Ed reappears, holding out a cup of tea.
‘Sip it. Please, Rachel. It’s got extra sugar.’
I don’t want the tea and I don’t want him back in the room either, but I also don’t want to speak so I just reach out for the cup. Resigned. It’s too hot but he tells me again to try sipping it. I do as I’m told. Tiny sips. It’s horribly sweet, the punch of it hitting the back of my throat, and I’m sorry to find it’s almost instantly waking me back up, sucking me back into this room. This new nightmare. I keep sipping, not because I want this new awareness but because it’s buying time. He’s quiet at last. Watching. And I’m trying to work out what to say to make him go; to leave so that I can return to Gemma and pretend this isn’t happening.
By the time I’ve drunk maybe a third of the tea, he’s repeating the bizarre story. The muddle of words, filling the room again. Laura. Canada. Psychotic episode. Capgras . . .
I try to shrink in on myself but the sugar’s preventing the retreat. A mistake. I reach out to put the remains of the tea on the nearest desk.
‘I should have told you. I wish that I had, Rachel. I’m so very sorry but I was so thrown when we met. So confused. And ashamed too. And I couldn’t believe it when you didn’t push me about my past. When you didn’t ask questions.’