6

 

In the end, Jared picked her up just after eleven. Niamh spent the journey in silence looking out the car window. The town hadn’t changed, some of the buildings looked a little more run down in places, and the trees seemed taller, but other than that, she was the one who had changed.

The car stopped, and she looked at the two-story house. The garden was neat and tidy and late autumn flowers nestled in a rainbow of colors in the window boxes and along the path. Net curtains hung at the windows and pinned back, old fashioned shutters gave the house an almost country look.

Jared smiled. “You like it?”

“It’s amazing. When you said home, I never imagined anything like this. It looks like it should have a thatched roof.”

Jared got out and opened the door for her. “I can’t take credit for all of it. And yes, originally it did. We changed that about seventeen months ago. We needed planning permission, mind you, but we got it.”

She swung her legs from the car and winced as she stood. Taking a minute to balance on her crutches, she glanced at him. “Why was that?”

“Thatched roofs are a fire risk.” His voice was abrupt and stilted.

She’d obviously touched a raw nerve. “OK.” She pulled herself slowly up the path. A beautiful mix of late yellow and blue roses bloomed on the bush growing up the trellis by the front door. Leaning over she took a deep breath, the delicious heady scent filling her nostrils and wrapping her in a warm fuzzy feeling. “They’re lovely.”

Jared smiled. “You planted them. The garden is your domain. No one else is allowed to touch it.”

“Did I? I never planted anything before. Dad always did it.”

“Then you must have gotten your green thumb from him, and your ability to pack a car. I have never known anyone as good at packing as you.”

Her stomach twisted. Again, he knew things about her and their life together that she didn’t. It was the most uncomfortable feeling and one she didn’t particularly care for in the slightest. “Another one of Dad’s many talents.”

He unlocked the front door and held it open for her. “After you.”

She eased over the front step and glanced around the hallway. Pale yellow and smelling new, the paintwork and dado rail glistened. Pictures hung on the walls, opposite a full length mirror and coat rack. “Pretty color.”

“That was you, too. I went to work the night shift, came home, and thought I’d walked into the wrong house at first.”

“I did all of this? The border, too?”

Jared nodded. “Yup. Usually you paint and I paper, but you did the whole thing this time.”

“The paint smells new.”

“Yeah, you did it the end of last week. Just head down that way to the kitchen.” There was an edge to his voice. She must have said the wrong thing again. Talk about walking on egg shells. Would she have to watch every single thing she said around him?

“OK.” She swung slowly down the hall in the direction he indicated.

Jared pointed out the different rooms as they passed and she was pleased to note the downstairs bathroom. It’d save going up and down the stairs. “I’ll put your bag in our room, Niamh.”

Her stomach twisted and a sword plunged into her heart. “Our room?” Surely he didn’t mean what she thought he did?

Jared smiled almost apologetically. “I’ve moved my things into the spare room,” he said gently. “I’m not asking any more of you than you’re prepared to give. Right now, we’re strangers. I know that, so I figured, housemates. Shared bathroom, kitchen, cooking and so on, but separate bedrooms.”

Relief flooded her. “Thank you.” She paused. “You’re not happy about it though, are you?”

“Can’t say I am, but it’s the way things need to be, right now.” He smiled. “So let me take this upstairs and I’ll let you settle in and find your way around. I need to sleep, as I’m due back at work at six. Can I make you some tea or something first?”

“No, it’s OK. I can manage. Thanks anyway.”

“OK, if you’re sure. I’ll see you around four thirty.”

Niamh nodded and watched him head up the stairs. She turned again and slowly made her way into the kitchen. It was spotless, not a thing out of place or a crumb on the work top. Why didn’t she remember any of this?

Flicking on the kettle, she then pulled a mug off the mug tree and set it on the counter top. Now where would the tea bags be? She pulled open cupboards one at a time, marveling at how neat they were too. Was this him? Because she wasn’t so neat, assuming she hadn’t changed over the past ten years and turned into a neat freak like her brother—when he wasn’t drinking that is.

Finding some tea bags, Niamh tossed one into the cup. She turned and swung slowly across the kitchen, wanting to explore the rest of the downstairs. Upstairs could wait until Jared was at work.

Will he settle for just house sharing? Still I guess I can always go live with Mum and Dad or Liam if need be.

Leaning on one crutch, she pushed open a door. A huge airy lounge ran from the front of the house to the back. The front half was a living room, with an archway dividing the rest into a dining room. Patio doors beyond that led to a conservatory. A door next to the table led back into the kitchen. That was worth remembering. She opened the patio door and stumbled a little as she went into the conservatory.

Note to self, door frames and crutches are not a good combination.

Cane furniture with pale yellow cushions lined the walls. A huge garden lay beyond the glass walls.

“Wow.” The autumn colors on the trees glistened and blew in the wind. White table and chairs with an umbrella stand stood on the patio. Flowers and trees lined the six-foot high wooden fence that surrounded them. The grass was neat and tidy.

The kettle whistled, and Niamh returned to the kitchen. She made the tea and somehow managed to put the cup on the table without spilling it. She slowly lowered herself into the chair and rested the crutches next to her. Picking up the cup, she sipped the hot liquid. Today’s paper sat on the side and she opened it, glancing down at the news. The date on the front page seemed to bear out Jared and Liam’s story about her having lost ten years.

“Why?” she whispered.

The one thing she was sure about was her faith. That hadn’t changed, and as sure as she was that God had a reason for this, she just had no idea what it was. Perhaps it was temporary thing. Was Jared really the man she loved, or could it be this other man she saw in her dreams?

She finished the tea, and made her way into the lounge. She sat on the sofa and carefully put her leg up. Then she grabbed the remote, and put the TV on. She let out a deep breath. This other bloke…there were definite feelings associated with him, she just wasn’t sure what. And she had no idea why her ‘husband’ didn’t elicit the same response.

 

****

 

Peeping through the windows, Niamh saw the snow lying thick and pristine across the dark garden. She smiled and slid on her coat, hat, gloves, and boots and went outside. She made slow, deep tracks all around the garden, and then built the tallest snowman she could manage. She gave it twigs for arms, stones for eyes and buttons and another twig for a mouth. She ran indoors and picked up a carrot for a nose and Jared’s spare cap for a hat. Surveying her handiwork, she smiled.

A tapping on the window made her look up. Jared stood silhouetted against the window. He shook his head at her.

She waved him to come down and join her, but he shook his head and mimed it being too cold. She pulled a face and turned away lowering her shoulders to make it look as if she were sad.

Less than a minute later the back door opened and Jared came out. “You are one crazy mad woman,” he told her moving over to her. “Have you any idea what time it is?”

Niamh spun around and tossed a handful of snow at him and grinned. “Snowball time.”

Jared yelped quietly as her shot hit right on target. He scooped up some snow and tossed it back, hitting her hard. “Oh really? And there I was thinking it was getting on for five forty-five in the morning. When all sensible people are still tucked up in bed.”

Niamh threw another snowball at him. “That’s why you’re not then.”

“No, because some crazy mad woman woke me up by traipsing around out here in the snow.” He tossed three snowballs in quick succession. “What would the judge say if he could see you now, Mrs. Senior Prosecutor?”

She dodged and sent several snowballs flying towards him watching them miss as he moved fast. “He'd want to join in. We're not staid and boring all the time, you know.”

His next several hit right on target. “So what’s the snowman called?” He moved over to look at it.

Niamh ran up behind him and dumped a whole load of snow over him, making sure it went down the inside of his coat. “Jarrie Jace,” she giggled.

Gasping with shock, he turned and grabbed her. “You brat!”

She laughed softly. “And what are you going to do about it?”

“This.” Jared swiftly kicked her feet out from under her, laying her down in the snow. Holding her with one hand, he grabbed a handful of snow and shoved it down her neck, kissing her to stop her crying out. “Now you’re a snow woman,” he grinned.

She looked at him and winked. “I’m also wet.” She tugged him to the snow beside her and grinned. “Snow angel time as we’re both wet anyway.”

He laughed and they both made snow angels. Then he reached over and kissed her again before pulling her to her feet. “Then we’d better go change before we have to leave for work.” He looked at the snowman. “Think we’ll call it H’main.”

She shook her head. “Deraj sounds better.”

Jared laughed, leading her back inside. “Then Deraj it is.”

Niamh whimpered, twisting in the chair as the scene changed.

…A warehouse exploded and burned out of control before, unable to bear its own weight any longer, it crashed to the ground, vanishing from sight into a huge fiery lake of rubble and flame. A car door slammed and footsteps echoed up the path. She looked into the sad faces of two officers in firefighter uniform. A flag at half mast, coffins draped in the Union Flag carried on the back of fire engines with a sea of men in uniform following it. A burned face, bandages, a figure in a bed, trumpet music playing...

The images flowed from one into the other, incoherent jigsaw pieces trying to make a whole.

She was in a car, frantically stamping on the brakes as something inexorably hurtled towards her. She flung her arms up and screamed. Then it was dark and there were more footsteps, this time chasing her. She ran, ran as fast as she could, but he was quicker and gained. She turned; a knife glinted in the darkness and plunged towards her. She screamed...

A child’s voice echoed with hers. “Mummmmyyyyyy.”

 

****

 

Niamh sat bolt upright, screaming, tears streaming down her face, rocking back and forth. Someone spoke and touched her arm, but she pulled away, struggling for breath. A hand gently touched her cheek and guided her to look into a pair of hazel eyes.

Jared?

“Hey.” His tone was gentle and soft. “It’s OK.”

Niamh tried to draw breath, unable to tear her gaze from his. Her whole body shook, and she grew light headed from lack of oxygen. Jared ran to the kitchen, returned with a paper bag and guided her hands to hold it. “Breathe into this. It’ll help.”

How is a paper bag going to stop me from suffocating?

Her head spun and her eyes wanted to close. Jared scrunched the bag up and placed it over her mouth and nose. “Breathe into the bag.”

She did as he asked, grateful he was holding the bag as her hands wouldn’t grip anything. This mad idea of his seemed to work, and as it got easier to breathe, Niamh realized he had his hand resting on her back, rubbing it. The touch felt strange, but at the same time familiar. She didn’t shy away, but leaned into it. The scent of his aftershave filled her senses. Pushing the bag away, she looked at him. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

Jared smiled. “It’s OK. I woke a while ago and was just finishing dinner when I heard you scream. Are you feeling better?”

Niamh nodded. “Yes, just a stupid nightmare.”

He looked at her, brushing the hair from her eyes. “Want to tell me about it while we eat?”

“Sure. It doesn’t make any sense though.”

“Nightmares seldom do.” He helped her to her feet, his sleep tousled hair giving him a childlike air. It was kind of cute. “What was it this time? Freddie or the fog monster?”

She leaned heavily on the crutches and walked slowly across the room. “Fog monster?”

“Hey, don’t mock. I usually have to save you from him once a week.”

“Oh, no, it wasn’t a monster made of fog, and I wasn’t being chased down a long dark hallway by a burned madman with knives for fingernails either. Though the guy in my dream did have a knife, and he was chasing me, right before I woke up. I was running, trying to get away, but he grabbed me and hit me and brought the knife down. Before that, I was in a car and the brakes didn’t work, and I think I crashed, but I’m not sure because at that point the knife man appeared. Before that there was fire and flags at half-mast and coffins on fire engines.”

Jared touched her shoulder for a moment then let go again. “You’re safe now. Did you see his face?”

“The bloke in my dream? No, I didn’t. Why?”

“No reason.”

“OK.” She took a deep breath. “Are you wearing Fascination?”

His voice caught as he replied. “Yes. You always buy it for me because you like it.”

Niamh gazed at him. “What’s my favorite perfume?”

“Eighteen fourteen.”

She shook her head. It didn’t sound right. “Oh.”

“Why?”

“Half thought you’d say something else.”

He smiled. “Well, strictly speaking that’s your current favorite. It seems to change each year or so. Why? What were you expecting me to say?”

“Blue Moon.” She caught her breath as his eyes glistened and looked down at her hands. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no, you didn’t. You wore that the day we got married. You had the whole range of stuff from body lotion, and bath oil, to hand cream…”

“That I do remember. It was all I ever wanted for Christmas and birthdays. I couldn’t justify spending that much money on myself.”

“That doesn’t sound like you. You love shopping and buying yourself new stuff.” He paused, changing the subject. “It’s warm tonight, despite being October, so I figured we’d eat outside, if that’s all right. Mind the step.”

“I got it.” She made her way outside and lowered herself onto the patio furniture. She hadn’t told him about the voice crying Mummy because that bit made no sense, even to her. She needed to think it through first.

Niamh took the lap tray he offered and smiled. “Thank you.” As the sun began to set, casting a purple hue over the clouds, she looked down at the plate and her smile widened. “I haven’t had chicken chow mien in ages. Did you vanish down the take away?”

Jared smiled, a faint blush touching his cheeks. “No. I have to admit I was tempted as you love the food from the local Chinese place, but this I made all by myself.”

Surprise filled her. “Wow, that’s so clever. I wouldn’t even know where to start. Did you make the fortune cookies, too?” She pointed to the bowl of cookies on the table.

“Ah, no. They came from this box.” He laughed and reaching down beside his chair, picked up and then jiggled a cardboard container. “But yes, the noodles and chicken chow mien are mine. This was the first thing I ever cooked for you.”

Niamh took a bite, and her eyes widened in delight as she chewed and swallowed. “It’s delicious. Did I marry you for your cooking skills?”

Jared laughed. “Quite possibly. We shared the cooking. You cooked when I worked, and I cooked on my days off.”

Niamh ate, enjoying the food. Then she reached for a fortune cookie. “Do not sleep in a eucalyptus tree tonight,” she read.

Jared laughed. “Don’t think we have one of those even if I wanted to try.” He broke his. “Indomitable in retreat; invincible in advance; insufferable in victory.”

She grabbed a few more and kept two and tossed two to Jared. “When you make your mark in the world, watch out for guys with erasers.”

“You will experience a strong urge to do good, but it will pass.”

“Love thy neighbor. Tune thy piano.”

Jared looked up at the clouds as he read the last one. “It is said that no one regards what is before his feet; we all gaze at the stars. Well, clouds in this case.” He pointed upwards. “That one looks like a dragon.”

She followed his finger but couldn’t see which one he was pointing to. “Where? I don’t see it.”

“There,” he said. “Second cloud to the right and straight on ’til morning.”

“That’s stars, not clouds. Dragon, huh?”

“Yeah, a big fire breathing dragon, that has chicken chow mien for dinner, and will have ice cream and fortune cookies for dessert.”

She smiled, letting slide the fact he was implying she was a fire breathing dragon. “What kind of ice cream?”

Jared grinned at her “Your favorite of course. Neapolitan, with chocolate sauce and sugar strand sprinkles. So, this here dragon. Do you see it now?”

She looked at the cloud critically for a moment. “It needs a name. Call it Deraj. Unless it’s a female dragon.”

He fixed his eyes on her, a gaunt look in them. “We’ll call it H’main.”

“No. Deraj sounds much better. And if it gets cold, it can sleep in your room. Not going to let it melt all over my carpet.” Niamh watched in surprise as Jared hurried inside with the plates. She sat there, really not sure what she had said, but was suddenly sure Deraj and H’main were snowmen and not clouds.

After a several minutes he came back out. His eyes were red rimmed. Had he been crying? “I need to get going. I’ll see you tomorrow. I should be home around nine thirty or so in the morning. Assuming we don’t get called out just before hand over. Can I get you anything before I leave?”

Niamh shook her head. He hadn’t brought the ice cream, but she no longer fancied it. “I’ll be fine.”

“Let me help you upstairs and put the TV on in the bedroom. I put a patio chair in the shower for you, and a bin liner to put the cast in. Your towels are the navy blue ones hanging in the upstairs bathroom.” His strong arms surrounded her as he picked her up and carried her.

She slid an arm around his neck. She knew he wouldn’t drop her; he did this for a living.

The bedroom was bigger than she’d imagined, and the bed itself was soft as he settled her onto it. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. If you need anything, call me. Or Liam said you could call him. All the numbers are programmed into your mobile phone. Your laptop is here, you never log out of anything, so you don’t need to worry about passwords for your email, social media pages and so on.” For a moment it looked as if he was going to kiss her, then he straightened. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight. I hope work goes OK.” She watched him leave, picked up the remote and turned on the television. Assuming she really had lost ten years, she shouldn’t have a problem finding something to watch.

She glanced at the laptop. Email? Social media pages? It was as if he was talking a foreign language. She hadn’t much cared for the new fad of electronic mail. A handwritten letter was far more personal than something typed and sent over this new internet malarkey. That was one thing she hoped didn’t catch on. The personal phones, however, would be a good idea. Especially in her line of work.

 

****

 

Jared sat at the table in the canteen, his hand curled around a mug of tea and a plate of cold spaghetti bolognaise on the table in front of him.

Skippy looked over at him. “Hey, if you’re not hungry, can I have that?”

“Go for it.” Jared pushed the plate over to him, shaking his head as Skippy attacked it with gusto. “Doesn’t your wife feed you?”

Skippy laughed. “She does, but I hate to see good food go to waste. So what’s up, mate? Is Niamh still in hospital?”

“No, she came home this morning.” He took a deep breath. “But, she doesn’t know who I am. She remembers nothing of the last ten years. If she were dead, at least I could mourn her, but this? That car crash took my wife and left me with a total stranger. How am I meant to just turn off my feelings and stop loving her now?”

“You don’t, you daft drongo.” Skippy’s Australian accent came through sharply. “You give her time. Date the sheila all over again. Charm her, make her fall in love with you and maybe as she does, she’ll remember you and all you’ve done together the past nine years.”

Jared looked up, his cup dropping to the table. He closed his eyes and buried his head in his hands. Dayna. What if she remembered Dayna or found the photos? Losing their daughter had almost killed her.

It had killed their marriage.

Could she survive reliving that night again? Could either of them?