“Holly?” Victoria could hear the panic in her own voice. As soon as Holly had pitched forward from her kneeling position, Victoria had dropped to her own knees and taken her by the upper arms to hold her upright.
“Holly? Please, talk to me,” she begged.
Holly had gone deathly white. Her eyes were wide, and she looked like she was staring straight through Victoria. She gave her a small shake, hoping to bring her back to reality.
Thankfully, it worked.
Holly blinked and started to sit back. “I’m okay,” she whispered.
Victoria turned and grabbed her handbag which had been dropped to the floor the instant she realised something was wrong with Holly. She pulled it open and grabbed the small, metal bottle of water she carried with her everywhere. She yanked open the top and held it towards Holly.
“Drink some water,” she commanded.
Holly took the bottle and did what she was told. Victoria trailed her eyes over her, checking for any sign of pain or injury. She had no idea what had just happened, only that it had scared the living daylights out of her.
“I remembered,” Holly said, still breathless.
Victoria felt her eyebrows raise. “Remembered what?”
“You… the red dress.” Holly let out a shaky breath and turned to face her properly. “It was like a flash of recollection. That’s never happened before. It must have been because we were talking about it, and then I was kneeling in front of you, looking up at you, the same as in my memory.”
Victoria took the bottle and sipped some water herself. They’d always suspected Holly’s memories were intact, but this was the first solid proof they had had.
“We need to get you to the doctor,” she said.
“No.” Holly shook her head.
Victoria stared at her with incredulity. Holly looked back at her with determination. The colour was returning to her cheeks, and she was looking stronger with every second that passed.
“What can they do? They’ll check my vitals and then they’ll shrug and say the brain is a mysterious thing.”
Victoria opened her mouth to argue but quickly closed it again. Holly was right. They’d long ago agreed that the best medical people in the country knew very little about brain damage and memory loss. At this point, Holly very likely knew more about her own memory loss and recovery than any so-called expert Victoria could find.
“Did you remember anything else?”
Holly shook her head. “No, it was just a flash, a few seconds. In the hotel room, you in the red dress. Me with a safety pin.”
“Are you sure it was a memory? Not just a suggestion brought on by our conversation?” Victoria hated to doubt her, but they had to be sure.
Holly frowned and cocked her head to the side, deep in thought. “The carpet was a dark grey. It made it impossible to find the pins if I put them down. You hadn’t put your heels on yet. You had dark red nail polish on. You were on the phone, shouting at someone called Beth? Does that sound right? Or did I make all of that up?”
Victoria furrowed her brow as she tried to recall just what toenail colour she had worn more than two years ago. It sounded right. A faint recollection that she’d been on the phone also seemed to fit. “I think you’re right.”
“Wow, an actual flashback. That’s so cool,” Holly mused.
Cool wasn’t the word Victoria would use. She’d been terrified. Worried that Holly was in the midst of a stroke or a heart attack. That she’d have to somehow direct the emergency services through a maze of corridors to the storage unit where her girlfriend had set up some elaborate war room.
Now that she knew it was a memory, other concerns surfaced instead. Was this the start of Holly’s memories rolling back in? The familiar dread reasserted its presence.
“Please, come home,” she requested.
“I’m fine,” Holly reassured her, reaching out for her hand and holding it tightly.
Victoria knew that arguing was pointless, so she looked away so that Holly wouldn’t see the traces of tears in her eyes. Holly must have caught sight of them as she found herself enveloped in a hug mere moments later.
“I’m fine, and we’re going to be fine, I promise,” Holly whispered in her ear.
“I’m going to quit Arrival,” Victoria said, the thought entering her mouth and being vocalised almost immediately afterwards.
“No, you’re not,” Holly said, squeezing her.
“I am. Tomorrow morning, first thing. Or Monday. I’ll do it Monday.”
“You love Arrival, you’re an industry leader. What would happen if you left? What would you do every day?” Holly released her hold, stood up, and reached a hand down to help pull Victoria up from the floor.
Victoria was so deep in her thoughts that hadn’t even realised they were both still on the floor. She took the proffered hand and stood up.
“It might not even make a difference,” Holly pointed out. “Then you’d have left for nothing. And someone would still be doing this.”
Victoria sighed, pinched the bridge of her nose, and turned away. She paced the small room, infuriated by the situation even more than she had been before.
Which she hadn’t thought was at all possible.
“Then what do we do next?” she demanded.
“We keep investigating,” Holly explained.
“And if you have another flashback?” Victoria asked. She stopped her pacing. “What if you… you remember something terrible? About me. Because there are plenty of terrible things about me for you to remember. Locked up in that pretty mind of yours.”
“Then I’ll remember them,” Holly said plainly. “And then I’ll think about all the wonderful times. I’ll remember when I convinced you to go ice skating with Alexia. I’ll remember when you baked a cake for Hugo’s birthday—”
“It was a disaster.” Victoria remembered the catastrophe that had been her first and last foray into the world of cake design.
“It was hilarious. And we all ate it.”
Holly took her hands and looked at her affectionately. “I might remember you being mean, but I don’t care. It’s not like I don’t know what you were like. And I have other memories to balance it out. We’ll be okay. I promise you.”
Victoria held her hands and looked up to her face. She looked deep into the eyes of the woman she loved and hoped desperately that she was right.