National Insurance number written out on a bit of paper, several visiting cards. Nothing seemed to be missing at all.
I wandered back into the kitchen-living room, clutching my bag. I drew the curtains properly, and turned on the standard lamp and the light above the cooker. It was nice here, homely. I'd obviously made a good move. I peered into the fridge. It was full of food: fresh pasta, bags of salad, a cucumber, spring onions, milk, butter, cheese Cheddar, Parmesan and feta individual pots of yoghurt, eggs, half a loaf of seeded brown bread, the remains of a bottle of white wine. No meat or fish perhaps this Jo was a vegetarian. Most things were past their sell-by date; the milk, when I sniffed it, was sour, the bread was stiff, the salad in its bag limp and faded. That wine must need drinking, though, I thought.
Without thinking, I went to a cupboard and took out a tall wine glass. Then just as I was lifting the bottle, I stopped dead in my tracks: I had known where the glasses were kept. A tiny, buried part of my mind had known. I stood quite still and tried to let that shred of buried memory grow, but it was no use. I poured myself a generous glass of wine after all, maybe I had bought it myself- and put on some music. I was half expecting Jo to walk in through the door, and the thought made me both nervous and excited. Would she be alarmed to see me or happy? Would she greet me casually or with disapproval and shock? Would she raise her eyebrows or give me a hug? But, really, I knew she wouldn't come. She'd gone away somewhere. Nobody had been here for days.
There was a light flashing on the phone and after some hesitation, I pressed the playback button. The first message was from a woman, saying she hoped everything was all right, and that she was going to cook supper, if Jo would wait in. The voice sounded familiar but it took a few moments to realize that she was me. I shivered and rewound, listened once more to my unfamiliar voice in this unfamiliar place. I sounded very cheerful. I drank a gulp of vinegary wine. There was a long, bossy message from a woman about the delivery date of a piece of work, and how it was being brought forward; a man's voice simply saying, 'Hi, Jo, it's me, shall we meet soon? Give me a bell.' A different woman, saying she'd be in town tomorrow and how about a drink; another woman saying, 'Hello? Hello?' until the line went dead. I saved the messages and took another sip of sharp yellow wine.
I didn't quite know what to do with myself. Was I an intruder here, or was this where I lived now? I wanted to stay, to have a hot bath and climb into my rugby shirt and eat pasta and watch TV -my TV curled up on my chair. I didn't want to be staying with friends who were being very kind and polite but who thought I was crazy. I wanted to stay here and meet Jo and find out about the self I'd lost.
Whatever I was going to do later, I had to find out as much as I could now. First things first. I sat down on the chair and tipped the contents of my bag on to the coffee table. The largest item was a thickish brown A5 envelope with my name on it. I shook out the contents: two passports, one old and one brand new. I turned to the back and found my photograph, the replica of the pair stuck into the mirror. An airline ticket: ten days ago I was meant to have flown to Venice, returning the day before yesterday. I've always wanted to go to Venice.
A pair of black gloves, balled up into each other. My address book, coming apart at the spine. Four black pens, one leaking. Mascara. Two tampons. Half a packet of Polo mints I put one into my mouth absentmindedly, which at least covered up the taste of the wine. A pack of tissues. One sucking sweet. One bead bangle. Three thin hair bands which I didn't need any longer. A comb and a tiny mirror. And a bit of tin-foil that had fallen on the floor. I picked it up and it wasn't tin-foil after all, but a stiff silver strip, holding two pills, except one pill had been pressed out. I tilted it up to the light to make out the words printed on the back of the strip. Levonelle, 750 microgram tablets, levo norgestrel I had an absurd impulse just to pop the other round white tablet into my mouth, just to see what would happen.
I didn't, of course. I made myself a cup of tea, then called Sheila and Guy's number and got the answering- machine. I told them I wouldn't be back tonight, but thanks so much for everything and I'd be in touch very soon. I put on my leather jacket, put the key and the tablet into the inside pocket, and went outside. My car was still there, except now it had a ticket wrapped in polythene, tucked under its iced-up windscreen wipers.
I'd deal with that later. I jogged in the darkness on to Camden high street and kept going until I came to a chemist's. It was about to close. I went up to the prescription counter, where a young Asian man asked me if he could help me.
'I hope so. I just wondered if you could tell me what this is for.' I produced the silver strip and passed it across to him.
He glanced at it briefly and frowned at me. 'Does it belong to you?'
'Yes,' I said. 'That is, no, no, it doesn't. Because if it was mine I'd know, wouldn't I? I found it. I found it in my my little sister's room and I just wanted to make sure it was safe. Because, you see, one's gone.'
'How old is your sister?'
'Nine,' I said wildly.
'I see.' He laid the strip down on the counter and took off his glasses. 'This is emergency contraception.'
'What?'
'The morning-after pill'
'Oh,' I said.
'And you say your sister is only nine?'
'Oh, God.'
'She ought to see a doctor.'
'Well, as a matter of fact.. .' I petered out nervously. Another customer was standing behind us, listening eagerly.
'When do you think she took it?'
'Ages ago. Ten days, something like that.'
He looked very disapproving and then a rather ironic expression appeared on his face. I think he knew.
'Normally,' he said, 'you should take two pills. The first no later than seventy-two hours after intercourse has taken place, preferably earlier than that, and the second twelve hours after that. So your sister could be pregnant.'
I grabbed the strip and waved it. 'I'll deal with it, I promise, thank you, but I'll make sure it's all right. Thank you.' I made for the street. The cold rain felt wonderful on my burning cheeks.
Nine
I knew what had happened. I bloody knew. It was one of those ludicrous things that I'd heard of other people doing. Even friends. How pathetic. As soon as I got back to the flat, I phoned Terry. He sounded as if he had been asleep. I asked him if any mail had arrived for me that morning. He mumbled that there were a couple of things.
'They might have sent my new credit card. They said they'd try to.'
'I'll send it on, if you'd prefer.'
'It's desperately urgent. And I'm just in the neighbourhood, so is it all right if I drop by?'
'Well, all right but-'
'I'll be there in half an hour.'
'I thought you were in the neighbourhood.'
I tried to think of a clever explanation but couldn't.
'Look, the longer we talk the longer it will be until I get there.'
When I arrived, he had a bottle of wine open. He offered me a glass and I accepted. I had to be subtle about this. I had to work my way round to it. He looked at me with the appraising expression I knew so well, as if I was a slightly dodgy antique and he was putting a value on me.
'You've found your clothes,' he said.
'Yes.'
'Where were they?'
I didn't want to tell him. This wasn't just bloody-mindedness. I thought that, just for these few days, it would be good to create the maximum amount of confusion. If the people who knew who I was didn't know where I was and the people who knew where I
was didn't know who I was, then maybe I'd be safer for a while. At least I'd be more of a moving target.
'I'd left them with someone,' I said.
'Who?'
