But now here it was, the S12, in my hand. Had I lost my newone while I was out doing whatever I had been doing and started using this oneagain? And if so, why couldn’t I remember anything about it? Was this down tomy suspected blackout or was it something more?
My memories were scrambled and I couldn’t retrieve them. Itwas like sitting in front of a laptop waiting for it to respond while thatbloody annoying hourglass thing spins hopelessly round and round in circles.
This wouldn’t do at all. My memories refused to come. Istill felt groggy and half-asleep which wasn’t helping matters. What had I doneyesterday to make me feel like this?
I got up and felt my way across the floor in thesemi-darkness, taking care not to trip over any discarded clothes or shoes onthe floordrobe. Reaching the window I pulled aside the curtains to let the weakwinter sunlight flood into the room.
If I had hoped that this might shed some light on mysituation, I was mistaken. The same question kept repeating over and over in myhead.
What the hell was I doing last night?
I tried again to piece it together, but my memory was stilleluding me. I was sure I had been at work, so how did I end up getting drunk?Could I really have gone on a bender afterwards? I had never done that whileworking nights and I had been doing them for many years.
Vivid memories from the dream that had seemed so lifelikeearlier began to spill into my head again – multiple images of a man holding afuturistic TV aerial and a dead body on a bed, all spinning round in circlesbut now they were laughing at me, mocking me as I was sucked into – well,whatever it was I had been sucked into.
It was just a dream – wasn’t it? If so, it had been unlikeany other one I had ever had and it was also disturbing that it was not fadingaway into my subconscious after a few minutes awake. If anything, myrecollections were getting stronger.
I sat back down on the bed which took up a good two-thirdsof the floor space in the room. The new flats may have been super eco-friendlybut the bedrooms were also what an estate agent might generously describe asbijou. Space was at a premium and it didn’t help that I’d opted to buy aking-size bed for my room.
In hindsight, that had been pretty optimistic. I hadn’t beena complete nun since I’d split up with Rob, but Phoebe and Lily got a lot moreuse out of their double beds than I got out of my king-size.
Between the end of the bed and the wardrobe was barely threefeet of floor space. As I sat on the end of the bed, I looked up at my close-upreflection on the wardrobe door mirror. Now there was something else thatcaught my eye.
As on most nights when I was on my own, I had slept in justknickers and an old T-shirt. But this one was exceptionally old. In fact it wasso old that I was pretty sure I had thrown it out about six months ago.
It was an ancient Angry Birds T-shirt that I’d boughtmore than a decade ago when the game had been huge. By the time I reluctantlyparted with it, it was pretty much falling apart. The only good thing I couldsay about it during its final days was that the holes under the armpits werevery handy for applying deodorant.
I thought again. Had I really thrown it out? I was sure Ihad. It certainly wasn’t in any fit state to be reused so I wouldn’t have takenit to a charity shop. They would undoubtedly have refused it, which would havebeen plain embarrassing. So how come I was wearing it now?
First the mystery over the phone and now this. I neededanswers so I headed for the bedroom door and out into the main part of theflat. As I opened the door I was greeted by the unmistakeably gorgeous smell offreshly cooked bacon.
I loved the design of our flat. It was neatly split in two,with all the bedrooms plus the bathroom on one side, and the living space onthe other. When you walked in through the front door, the left-hand side wasalmost like walking down a corridor in a hotel, with four doors, one afteranother. In order, these went bathroom, Lily’s room, Phoebe’s room, my room.
Lily felt she had the best room, as it was nearest thebathroom, but I liked mine, because being on the end it had the bigger windowand a better view. I could see the park from my room, but all they could seewere the flats opposite.
The right-hand side of the flat was all open-plan, with justa small breakfast bar as a divider between the kitchen and the rest of theliving space. The kitchen was closest to the front of the flat, opposite thebathroom and Lily’s room, followed by a small dining area, and then the livingarea which in estate agent terminology was positively spacious compared to thebedrooms.
That living room was the hub of our little home, and it wasthere that I now found Phoebe and Lily camped out in front of the television,sitting with the curtains closed watching some old Disney film, a staple of theChristmas and New Year TV schedules. A familiar battered, old, fake Christmastree stood next to the TV, fairy lights twinkling on and off in a preordainedsequence. It was refreshingly normal after my dream and the other odd things Ihad noticed this morning.
“Oh, look, it stirs,” said Lily, catching sight of me as Ipadded, barefoot,
