21-02-2000

"I think that’s very good progress, Mike. I’m pleased with this. It’s good… yes." The psychiatrist placed his clipboard on the desk and leaned back in his chair.

Michael looked at Sophie, sitting next to him, and she returned his gaze. "Looks like this is it babe."

"Definitely."

Michael Knowles and Sophie Darrow – the latter being Alicia’s sister – walked home in the late afternoon of Monday the twenty-first of February. The pair had been at the psychiatric hospital discussing Michael’s returned memory. It appeared that with Sophie’s emotional support, Michael had been able to find his memories again, those that he had lost after leaving college. He felt that they had all returned that were going to, but his taste in music had changed.

"Cold, huh? Sophie said, her arm and Michael’s linked.

"Yeah, a bit."

"You’re quiet tonight. You okay?"

"You know, I’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve asked me that – but it’s always been welcome, and you never sounded irritating to me."

"But are you?"

"I keep thinking of Alicia," Michael said slowly. He sighed. "It’s been ages, I know, and I should just accept it, but I can’t help thinking that I’ve missed something huge by losing my memory. I remade myself as someone completely different, and I forgot I even knew her. From what I’ve heard, she was someone special."

"And to no-one more so than Jon."

"Yeah I never did get the stuff he talked about after the funeral. Now that I remember about my time at college, it just doesn’t make a lot of sense."

"What do you mean?"

"Well I thought he said that they were just friends, but that’s not the way I remember it."

Sophie exhaled. "That’s how Alicia wanted it. Jon wanted something more, and they had that for a while."

"Yeah that’s more like it." Michael frowned. "I think. I always thought I’d be thrilled to have my memories back again, but it’s just bringing confusion. And a bit of thrill."

"That’s the way life is, Mike."

Late at night, Sophie fast asleep and presumably dreaming, Michael lay cold and awake and alone in his house, while Sophie slept in the spare room. He appreciated this arrangement; the twenty-three-year-old girl had stayed with him since her sister’s death, as the two had met shortly after the funeral, both leaving flowers at the grave.

At first, Michael had thought that Sophie needed comfort, a friend in a time of sorrow. He had since discovered that he himself needed Sophie more than she needed him. Within a short space of time, his memories began to return.

But now, as he lay on the warm double bed, he was cold. A chill inside that said not all was at peace within him. The memories he had regained, although he saw them as valuable, brought no rest for him. Unsolved thoughts and unanswered questions, not least of all about the relationship between Jon and Alicia, floated idly through his mind and served only to rob him of calm.

Eventually, sleep overtook his anxious thoughts.

With a sudden deep breath, Michael awoke. Sophie was asleep in a wicker chair beside his bed. Quietly, he arose on the side on which she was. Pulling on some clothes, he began to make his way towards the door. Pausing, he decided to return to the girl who meant so much to him. Bending over her, he kissed her forehead.

"You can kiss me again if you like," she whispered, startling Michael.

"I’m sorry," he said, "I thought you were asleep."

"It doesn’t matter, Mike. As I said, you can -…"

I was just off for a walk, Sophie. I need to clear my head. Dreams and scenes plague me."

Michael wandered slowly along the pavement on a street he had known for years. His hometown, although different, had remained substantially the same through the ages. As he passed the Chinese take-away a youth who had just exited a building on the opposite side of the road crossed, and walked beside Michael.

Michael glanced at the teenager, and continued his thoughts.

"Lovely morning, eh?"

"Sure."

"The sun, the snow… glistening with light."

Michael frowned at the boy.

"And the song of the birds."

"What?"

"Every grave is a plot of land -…"

"Into which my eternal seeds will fall," finished Michael. "How do you know that?"

"I must be older than I look," laughed the boy.

Michael found himself sitting on a park bench, having little recollection of how he got there. He could not recall where the boy had gone, and he could not recall where he was. He did not remember when he last saw the sun, and he did not remember the clouds being so grey before.

A girl a few years younger than him sat down on the bench. She shuffled up close to him. "Cold, old man?"

Michael stared at her. "Who are you?" he asked. "Where has the sun gone?"

"I don’t know where the sun has gone, my friend. Here; drink this." The newcomer handed Michael a flask. "Drink," she said. "It’ll do you good."

After a few minutes spent in silence, Michael stood up. "I have to go," he said.

"Go where?" asked the girl.

"I don’t know," he replied.

"Follow me, and I’ll take you where you need to go."

Michael was led to a quiet part of town. His guide took him along darkening down-market streets, and into an alley, which seemed to be a through route.

Behind Michael’s back, the girl drew a knife. Raising it high above her head, she drove it into his body. The blade plunged into Michael’s lung, and blood spattered onto the attacker.

Michael turned. The fog of his mind lifted, and his memory returned. "Sophie…"

With no hope now, Michael gave in. And allowed the knife to pierce him again. And again. And again.