If Ever I Fall. S.D. RobertsonЧитать онлайн книгу.
the hospital? He’d thought so at the time, but maybe he’d seen what he wanted to see. Her reaction had actually been quite muted. He’d put that down to the pain she was in, but now he wasn’t so sure.
He could feel himself sinking into one of his moods, but it was too late to change anything now. He took another gulp of vodka, no longer bothering with the shot glass.
I wake up to find I can’t move. It’s getting light outside and I’m looking up at the high ceiling of my room at Miles’s house. I know who I am: I’m Jack, and I have a head injury. But I can’t move. It’s like some invisible force is pinning me to the bed. I try again and again to raise myself up, but it’s no use.
What the hell’s happening? I try to stay calm and rational, but it’s no good. My breathing gets faster; I can feel myself breaking out in a cold sweat. Panic is here. I can feel his bony fingers pressing down on my chest. I can smell his rotten breath.
‘Miles,’ I call out. ‘Help me! I’m paralysed.’
I shout his name more times than I can remember. Louder and louder until my voice cracks, my throat like sandpaper. He doesn’t come.
What time is it? I wonder. Impossible to know for sure in this house without clocks, but I’d guess at five or six o’clock. Miles must still be asleep. That’s why he’s not coming. He will in an hour or two once he wakes up. I need to calm down. Wait it out.
Easier said than done. I’m paralysed! Of course I’m panicking.
At that moment I hear the creak of the bedroom door opening. I try to look in that direction, but my head’s having none of it and my eyes will only roll back so far.
‘Miles? What took you so long?’
But it’s not his voice that replies.
‘Hello, my love. Did you call me?’
When I answer, my voice is that of a child. I’m still around – still part of the action – but not in the driving seat and no longer paralysed. ‘Yes, Gangy. I had a bad dream. I woke up and—’
‘And what? You can tell me.’
‘I thought there was a bat in here.’
‘A bat? Where?’
I point to the corner of the room and she walks over to it. She has a good look around, even kneeling down and peeking under the chest of drawers. ‘No,’ she says, once her search is complete. ‘There’s definitely no bat here. None whatsoever. I think you still had one foot in the Land of Nod.’
‘What’s that?’
‘The Land of Nod is where we go when we’re asleep. It’s a tricky old place. When you’re there, you think it’s real life. When you’re fully awake, it doesn’t seem real at all. Sometimes, when you first wake up and one world blends into the other, you can get confused. Was there a bat in your dream?’
‘Yes.’
‘There you go. That explains it. I dreamt I was a rabbit the other night.’
I giggle as she twitches her nose at me.
‘I really believed it too,’ she continues. ‘I led a full life. It seemed like I was there forever, hopping in and out of my warren; eating carrots and so on.’
‘Mum says rabbits don’t really eat carrots.’
‘She’s right. Carrots aren’t what they naturally eat in the wild. But I bet they’d like the ones I grow in my garden, because they’re super delicious, aren’t they?’
I nod enthusiastically. She knows I love her home-grown veggies.
‘Anyway, I ate carrots in my dream. Like Bugs Bunny. Then I woke up and laughed at myself for believing I was a rabbit.’
‘What was it like?’
‘Being a rabbit? Good fun, from what I can remember. But that’s the other thing with dreams: the memory of them fades before you know it.’
‘What colour rabbit were you?’
‘Light brown with a bushy white tail.’
I smile. ‘Gangy?’
‘Yes, love.’
‘Do I have to go back to sleep?’
‘Not if you don’t want to. We’re both awake now. How about we go downstairs and make some breakfast?’
I jump up and throw on my dressing gown.
‘I’ll need a hug first,’ Gangy says, and I throw my arms around her.
‘I love staying here,’ I tell her.
‘And I love having you.’
‘Come on. Time to get up.’
My eyes snap open and Miles is leaning over the bed, opening the green curtains and letting the daylight stream in.
‘Morning, lad. How are you feeling today?’
‘I can’t—’ I realise I’ve just turned my head. I sit up without any effort. Everything’s working again. The whole paralysis thing must have been a dream.
‘You can’t what?’
‘Um, nothing. It’s fine.’
‘How’s the head?’
‘Good. It hardly hurts at all now.’
‘What’s your name?’
‘Jack.’
‘And who am I?’
‘Miles. I’m your lodger. This is your house. I’m helping you fix it up.’
‘Excellent. Anything else come back to you?’
‘Maybe. I’m not entirely sure. I think I dreamt a memory. Is that possible?’
Miles shrugs. ‘I don’t see why not. What was it about?’
‘It was something from my childhood. Like last time, with the marmalade. It involved my grandmother again.’
I talk him through the scene that played out in my head. Miles sits on the wooden chair, listening to me with his head cocked to one side.
‘What do you think?’ I ask when I’ve finished.
‘Sounds like a memory to me. What do you think? How did it feel?’
I nod. ‘Like I’d been there before.’
‘What did your grandmother look like?’
‘Um, I don’t know. I should have paid more attention. Small, I think – for an adult. She wasn’t that much bigger than me. Short curly hair. Kind eyes. She was wearing a dressing gown. Light green, maybe.’
‘That’s good.’
‘But why her? Why’s she the one I remember again? Why my childhood? What about everything in between? When’s that going to return?’
Miles sits back in the chair and runs one hand through his short white hair. ‘Take it easy. That’s a lot of questions. Memory’s complicated.’
‘Yes, but you also said this kind of memory loss is rare. What did you call it again?’
‘Retrograde amnesia.’
‘That’s it. So what’s going on? Why hasn’t everything come back? Don’t take this the wrong way; I know you have lots of experience as a GP, but don’t you think I maybe ought to see a specialist or something? Go to a hospital?’
‘Sure, if you’re