The longer I am not myself, the harder it is for Douglas. He still smells the same as he always has, of Trumper’s Wellington Cologne. I’d know the mix of cumin, orange and neroli anywhere. But we don’t speak to each other now except to argue and I have no chance of winning against his logical mind. That cuts deep. The more I think about it, the more the thoughts tangle in my head. To make them stop I go down the stairs and out to the garden by the French windows in the drawing room. Despite the biting cold of the afternoon, it soothes me to see the birds ruffling their feathers in the birdbath on the terrace. I love my birds. Their song lifts my spirit and I even dare to hope a little. Hope. How wonderful is that little word?
Maybe things can change. Maybe I really will remember what happened in Golden Valley. And if I do, maybe it won’t be as bad as I fear.
The sun is fragile today, pale behind a wispy grey sky. How strange that on this chilly winter’s day, with even a forecast of snow, all I can think of is the bright yellow sun of that Rangoon day. Huge, round, blisteringly hot. It still blinds me now and, even though I close my eyes against it, it remains trapped behind my eyelids.
As for Douglas. Well, one minute I was loved and then I was not. He hides it, of course, but I see beneath the anxious smiles and brevity of his words to the place where grief has burrowed deep inside him. He is empty now too, full of holes, but I remember his lips on mine and the tenderness in his eyes and the way he loved me until I felt we had dissolved into one being.
I tell myself I want to remember what happened, I truly do, but whenever I try a band of pain circles my head and my mind becomes a slippery mess. All the doctors say the same thing. Whatever happened, I cannot allow myself to see it and have blocked it from my conscious mind.
I still dream though. And yet the dreams provide no clarity, as each one is different from the last. I have no recollection of returning to England. All I remember is that one minute I was under house arrest in Rangoon and then the next, or so it seemed, I was back here.