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By the time I left Craven's room, my head was full of thoughts, questions and fears. I didn't expect to sleep, but as soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out like a light. It was almost eight o' clock when I woke the next morning. As I lay in bed, I thought about my accident and the aftermath. My first memory was of waking up in A&E. I'd been found unconscious by a woman taking her Akita for an early morning walk. My mind drifted back to that fateful day:
I opened my eyes—someone was looking down at me.
“Where am—?” My mouth was so dry, I could barely speak. “Where am I?”
“You're in hospital,” the young woman said.
My vision was slowly clearing—I could see she was wearing a blue nurse's uniform.
“What happened?” I tried to sit up, but the nurse put a hand on my shoulder.
“Don't try to get up. Wait until the doctor has seen you.”
“Why am I here? What happened?”
“What's your name?” she said, ignoring my questions.
“It's—” My mind was a blank. I tried again, “My name is—”
“It's okay. Don't worry. The doctor will be here in a few minutes.” With that, she disappeared. I glanced around to find I was in a small, tiled cubicle. A white curtain was drawn—beyond it I could hear voices and footsteps.
I lifted first one arm, and then the other. I did the same with my legs. All in working order, and no pain.
“Ah good, you're awake!” A male voice this time. “I'm Doctor Mason.”
“What happened to me, doctor?”
“I was hoping you might tell us that.”
“I can't remember anything. Not even my name.”
He nodded. “That's okay. Don't worry. It isn't uncommon in cases like this.”
“How did I get here?”
“I believe someone found you in the park.”
“Park?”
“You don't remember going into the park?”
I shook my head.
“Do you know where you are?”
“Hospital.”
“Do you know which town this is?”
Once again, my mind was a blank.
“It's okay. It'll all come back in time. Right now, we need to run some tests.”
“What tests?”
“Nothing to worry about. All routine. We'll start with a scan of your head to make sure everything's okay inside.”
They did the scan, plus a million and one other tests. Everything came back clear—except my memory. Two days later, I was on an observation ward when I had a visitor:
“Hi!” The middle-aged woman smiled at me.
Did I know her? She obviously knew me.
“Hi?”
“They said it was okay to come see you. I hope you don't mind.”
“I'm really sorry, but I don't know who you—”
“My fault.” She waved away my apology. “They told me that you’d lost your memory. I was the one who found you in Toppers.”
“Toppers?”
“Toppers Park. Strictly speaking, it wasn't me who found you. It was Jack—my Akita. He's a well-behaved dog. He usually comes back as soon as I call him. That morning, he ran into the bushes, and wouldn't come back no matter how many times I called. I'd never heard him howl like that before. When I found him, he was standing over you.”
“Did you see anyone else nearby?” I asked.
“Who?”
“I don't know. The police think I might have been mugged. I just wondered if you'd seen anyone.”
“No. I usually take Jack out early—before breakfast. We occasionally see other dog walkers or joggers, but that morning the park was deserted. It was a Sunday though—people like to stay in bed on a Sunday.”
“Oh.” I tried to mask my disappointment.
“I'd better not keep you talking, dear. You need your rest. I just wanted to check you were okay. You look better than the last time I saw you.”
“Thanks for coming, and say thanks to Jack for me would you?”
Later that same day, I had another visitor.
“Do you have any news?” I sounded as desperate as I felt.
“Sorry. Nothing yet,” Officer Tamblin said.
Tamblin was the policeman who'd interviewed me on the day I'd been admitted to hospital. The police thought I might have been the victim of a mugging because I had no personal possessions on me when I was found.
“Surely someone must have missed me by now?”
“It's unusual,” he admitted. “Normally someone comes forward within forty eight hours in cases like this. A family member, boyfriend, friend, work colleague...”
I felt sick to my stomach. It was bad enough that I couldn't remember who I was, or anything else about my life, but it was even worse to realise that no one out there had missed me. Did I have family, a boyfriend, friend or work colleague? I had no idea.
“I've spoken to my boss,” Tamblin said. “We're going to make an appeal on local radio and TV. A photographer will come around later today—if that's okay with you?”
“Sure.” I tried, but failed to sound upbeat.
One week later, there had been no response to the radio and TV appeals. I couldn't have told anyone how desolate I felt at that point. Losing my memory was bad enough, but the thought that I had no one—absolutely no one—was horrible. The staff at the hospital had been marvellous, but it was obvious to everyone that there was no longer any reason for me to be there. Physically, I was fit—I'd had a million test results which said so.
Where would I go? I had no home, no money and no name. The police had arranged for a social worker to visit me:
“My name's Maxine. I've been assigned your case.”
“Hi.”
“This is rather awkward.” She hesitated. “I need a name to use on your file, but—”
I laughed. I couldn't stop laughing. I couldn't help it. I had nothing—not even a name. Then, I cried.
“Sorry,” Maxine said. “I didn't mean to upset you. We can sort that out later.”
“It's okay.” I wiped my eyes. “I guess I should have a name.” I thought about it for a moment. The Akita that found me was called Jack.
“Jackie,” I said.
I was on Coleman Ward.
“Jackie Coleman.”
“Right.” Maxine looked uncertain. “That'll do until we know your real name.”
Maxine was a little too fussy, but did everything she could to help including organising a one-off payment from a social fund to cover my initial expenses. I had only the clothes I'd arrived in. She also organised a place at a hostel. Two days later, it was time for me to leave the hospital. Judy, the nurse who was the first person I'd seen when I came around, had been a regular visitor to my bedside.
“You leaving us?” Judy asked.
“I guess so.”
“Where will you go?”
“I've got a temporary place at a hostel.” I took the slip of paper from my pocket. “Dunston Hostel.”
I saw the reaction on her face.
“That bad, eh?”
“You shouldn't have to go there. It's full of drunks and addicts. Couldn't they find you anywhere else?”
I shrugged. “I'd better get going.”
“Wait!” Judy put a hand on my shoulder. “Me and my flatmate are looking for someone else to share. The last girl moved out to live with her boyfriend.”
“That's sweet of you, but I don't have any money or a job.”
“You can pay us when you do.”
“What will your flatmate say?”
“Alison? She'll be fine with it. You'll like her—she's nice. What do you say?”
“That would be brilliant. Thanks!”
––––––––
Judy and Alison were great flatmates. The most difficult part about finding a job was getting the paperwork sorted. I had a zero identity. It took weeks and a lot of help from Maxine to get paperwork under my new 'temporary' name of Jackie Coleman.
Over the next two years, I did a number of jobs—bar work, shop work—most of it part time and/or temporary. Then I landed the job at Dexter Travel. Judy moved out a year later. Me and Alison never did get around to finding a new flatmate. I built a new life for myself in Camthorpe. I even managed a few brief relationships although they were short-lived and forgettable. At the back of my mind was always the hope that one day my memory might return, or that I might meet someone who knew me—the old me.
Now I had.