Page 14 of The Day Shelley Woodhouse Woke Up
There are no windows in this ward and it adds to my disorientation. I don’t know whether it’s night or day, and I don’t know whether it’s raining or sunny.
‘Blowy,’ she says. ‘It’s mild, but when the wind gets up it feels quite chilly. Bright, though. Not many clouds.’
I close my eyes and picture it, imagine myself breathing in air that hasn’t been recycled and watching the clouds drift along. ‘Thank you,’ I say. And then she’s gone.
I lose track of how often Angela comes over to take my obs. Sometimes it feels like it’s every ten minutes, and other times it feels like hours go by in between. She makes sure I always have a jug of fresh water, pours me some into plastic cups that look scratched and like they’ve been through the dishwasher too many times. She offers to adjust my bed, sometimes gets me to lift my head a little so she can plump my pillows. She never leaves without asking if there’s anything I need, and there’s just one thing, but I can’t say it. I always want her to stay.
Every time the door goes, I look up, hoping to see Dee or even my mum. But it’s never them. Always someone else’s relative or loved one. Because I don’t have any of my own, I listen in to other people’s visits, catch little snippets of conversation.
‘Of course, Aunty Beryl was having none of it.’
‘Shall I bring you some of those mints you like?’
‘Well, I said I’d be back in on Tuesday but it’s hard to know, isn’t it?’
‘Maya misses you.’
‘They’ve called her Erin.’
‘I was so weary last night, I ate a bowl of cereal for dinner and was in bed by nine o’clock.’
And then, at some point in the afternoon, when I’m waiting for dinner because there’s nothing else to mark out the time, she comes. Dee. I start crying before she’s even reached my bedside.
‘Your hair,’ I say.
And she does that thing where she puts a hand to it as if it might have changed or disappeared without her realising. Herlong hair is gone, replaced with a neat bob. It’s still shiny and silky and gorgeous.
‘Never mind my hair, Shelley. How are you feeling?’
She pulls the plastic chair a bit closer to my bed so she can sit down and also hold my hand. I feel like it’s going to undo me, that touch. Since I woke, I’ve been touched by many hands, but all of them were doing a job, and Dee is being a friend.
‘Dee,’ I say, looking her right in the eye. ‘What’s going on? Where’s David? He did this, and I keep telling them, and the police haven’t come to talk to me about it.’
‘I can’t talk to you about all that,’ she says, not quite meeting my eye.
‘Why not?’
‘Because… you asked me not to. You made it very clear that you didn’t want me to.’
I’m stunned. What does she mean? I haven’t seen her since the accident, have I?
She must realise I’m confused. ‘You’ve been coming in and out of consciousness for a few days now. We’ve been trying to fill you in on everything, but you didn’t believe what we told you, and then you got really angry and asked us to just let you regain your memories on your own.’
‘Did I?’
‘You did. And I get it, Shell. David used to fuck around with you, try to make you think things were different from how you remembered them, so it’s bound to be scary for you to be told things you don’t remember.’
What don’t I remember? ‘Okay,’ I say. ‘Who’s we?’
‘What?’
‘You saidwetried to fill you in.’
‘Oh, me and the medical team. Dr Jenkins and Angela and Dr Ali. Everyone here.’
‘So everyone knows not to answer my questions?’ It’s unbelievable, like some big conspiracy.
‘For now,’ she says. ‘You wanted to remember on your own. So we’re all giving you a chance to do that. I think it’s for the best, Shelley, I really do.’
