Connecting the Thread

When the truck-driver saw the cloud of dust rising from the mountainside he knew it was a sizable landslide, so wasting no time he pulled his wagon onto the hard shoulder, reached for his binoculars and focused them onto the scene of falling rocks and debris. Below the crevice where the tumbling boulders and scree were heading, was a minor road that sort of meandered around the mountain.

Whilst his thumb automatically pressed the numbers for the emergency services on his mobile, the sun’s last rays caught the polished chrome of a motorbike that came from behind the mountain. The glint flashed the attention of the truck driver and as he waited for a voice on the phone, he saw the rider and bike get swept off the road by the melee of rocks and roll over and over down the valley.

~

Jake was lucky to be alive. He knew that because everyone told him so. And he told himself even when the pain of rehabilitation was making him wish he were dead; but Fate had been on his side that day.

So encouraged by the physiotherapists he battled on making his limbs work again, building up muscles weakened from lack of use and closed his mind to the pain. Encouraged by the team whose task it was to mend his shattered body telling him he was a model patient and said not to worry about the fact his memory had blocked out what happened, because often, the brain kicks in when it’s least expected.

The medics assured him no physical damage had been made to his head. They praised the quality of the helmet and the biking jacket that must have protected his vital organs, and everyone praised the speedy action of the truck driver who guided the air rescue helicopter to the spot and warned that the road had been swept away so notices further along the minor road had to be given.

So why didn’t Jake remember anything?

Not only had his memory of the landslide gone but his life before the accident was a complete blank. Who was he? Where did he come from?

His driving license gave an address but the police said when they checked it out, the building had been demolished and planning for industrial units had been applied for on the site.

His psychologist assured him that the past would reveal itself in time. And that it was important to build up a new set of memory threads so that when that moment came, the old links would connect with the new. So Jake concentrated his mind to building up his physical strength until the time came when the medical team agreed he was ready to find himself a home of his own.

~

As Jake took in the view, he felt his brain sort of fizz and with that buzz he felt his mind free up. It lasted for just a second, but enough of a surge to allow a trickle of hope to sneak in.

Had his memory been given a kick?

The feeling subsided but he kept his eyes on the vista turning them to roam across the bare branches of the woodland and to take in the panorama spread out below. They came to rest on a huge holly bush that dominated a clearing. ‘Are we in for a hard winter?’ he whispered.

Clare followed his gaze, and nodded when she saw the abundant display of red berries; ‘I see some of your old memory is intact then.’

‘It’s this place. I’m sure it’s loosened my brain in some way.’ He smothered the urge to give Clare a hug, knowing that the doctor and patient relationship had to be professional. ‘I, er, I can’t help it. I feel so elated, sort of drunk.’ Now Clare strove to hide the alarm rising in her, he rushed on to explain: quell her anxiety, ‘I’m sorry, but since my accident it feels so good to realise I knew something once upon a time, some tiny little thing that shot into my memory without going through hours and hours of repetitive word games.’

Clare plunged her hands deep into the pockets of her coat. ‘Yes, I can see this place has uplifted you, but lots of berries on an overgrown holly bush? Come on, it might mean you could be trapped here, all alone and up to your neck in snow.’ She gave an involuntary shiver and hunched her shoulders around her neck. ‘Have you seen enough Jake? Can we go now?’

Ignoring her impatience, he gave the area another visual sweep. ‘The agent said the owners are abroad, remind me; where did he say they went?’

‘They’re running a sheep station in South Australia.’ Her eyes scanned his as she waited for the penny in Jake’s head to drop into place.

‘Yes,’ he nodded, ‘they have family there – a daughter and son-in-law and a baby on the way.’

Relieved, Clare looked around the ten acres. ‘I believe your memory might be improving Jake, but it’s still early days. Do you really think you can cope alone in a place like this? I mean; just look at it – there’s nothing, absolutely nothing for miles around.’

Jake hoped his smile would take away Clare’s frown, ‘I am looking at it. And I love it.’

Clare let out a huff of frosty vapour. She hoped it would mask her face and the smile she tried to hide. When he bent close, she felt his warm breath on her cheek. ‘You don’t fool me Clare Parker, you like it too.’

‘Well,’ she sighed, ‘It does have a wild ruggedness about it.’

~

So Jake signed the lease for Bindweed Cottage and arranged for his meagre possessions to be delivered.

His first task was to set up his new computer and then to link it to Clare’s office. It was part of the deal – his promise to contact her via Skype twice a day – a promise he’d vowed not to break. He was determined to make it work. He was going to make himself well – make himself better than he used to be – whatever that was.

As he unpacked the cables and slotted them into place, his mind began to run through the sequences of events and to the accident he could not remember. Oh yes, the story had been told many times of what had happened so that he could picture the scene in every detail. But why should he have no memory of his life before his motorcycle was swept off the road where it took him down the valley to be buried alive in a heap of rubble?

Mr Henderson, Jake’s orthopaedic surgeon said if it wasn’t for the quick action made by the truck driver parked up on the bridge of the major road, he feared Jake could have been hidden for days amongst the scree and rocks of the landslide.

Jake was grateful to everyone, the lorry driver, the mountain rescue and the air ambulance service; and to the team of doctors, nurses and physiotherapists who had helped him through it all – and were still helping him. They had become his only friends; real mates.

He was also grateful to the man Clare thinks is from the insurance company who had arranged for his extensive convalescence and renewed Jake’s debit card when it went out of date. He owed so many good people so much. But now it was up to him to do the rest and he would not let any of them down: especially Clare.

He took a deep breath, pressed the ‘on’ switch and let out a long sigh of relief when the computer lit up.

He sent Clare a short message saying he was going for a walk but would be back in time for their Skype conversation.

Before leaving, he wedged a large log onto the embers of the wood-burner and fastened its glass doors tight. He donned his new boots. New boots – everything was new, even his arms and legs had been rebuilt. He opened the porch door, breathed in the cold crisp air and coughed back smoke-tainted staleness. He made a mental note to clean the wood-burner and added it to his list of jobs.

It felt good to have a list again, a purpose in life.

With another lungful of fresh air he made his way down a different path, a badger’s run by the size and shape of the footprints, which led downwards to the stream.

A cock pheasant strutted by, its plumage iridescent against the frost-covered ferns and golden bracken. Unafraid, the pheasant eyed the newcomer with a slow gaze and walked deliberately across his path, delighting Jake in more ways than he could express. And the sight of the water twinkling between the bare branches of the trees anchored and cemented his mounting joy.

How could anyone leave such a place?

He looked across and to the opposite valley where most of the trees rested in a wintry haze and sensed it was Mother Nature at work, tucking her brood of plants in: bidding them sweet dreams until the spring. A bit like Clare and the nurses had done to him, a team working together mending his wounds: both physical and tormented.

The sound of water chuckling around boulders brought him out of his reverie and for some strange reason a tiny glimpse of his life before the accident flashed through his mind – a snippet so clear – it caused him to stop in his track.

His immediate thought was to inform the medical team. They had mended his broken bones but nothing any of them did had brought back his memory.

He turned his gaze to where the noise had come from and to a gap in the woodland that opened onto the stream. Miniature waterfalls were cascading into pebble-bottomed pools, which in turn overflowed into eddies, where they swirled around, waltzing downwards and onwards to the sea.

The woody aromas, the noises and visions made him feel heady, like they were colouring his senses for the first time with brushstrokes of glistening olivy greens that mingled with earthy russet hues.

He staggered momentarily and reached out for support, his fingers finding a prickled leaf before his brain flashed from bright white to matt black.

~

The vibration in his jacket pocket brought him round.

‘Jake – are you okay?’

‘Yeah,’ he raised his head, ‘what’s the panic?’

‘You’ve missed our session?’

‘No – I set everything up, sent you a message to say I’d be back in an hour – that was what – ten minutes ago?’

‘That was two hours ago.’

Jake sat bolt upright. ‘I’m fine, honestly Clare. I just – I got lost in my thoughts.’ He made to stand up felt lightheaded so sat down again, ‘Clare, I forgot the time,’ he lied, ‘I’m okay, really, I was exploring, y’know like I was a kid and lost track – I’m sorry to have worried you.’

He heard her sigh – deep like she was trying not to lose her cool. ‘Okay,’ she said at length, ‘I know where you are. I can hear water gushing. Play Robin Hood if you must, but I want to see you unscathed at this evening’s session. Do you understand?’

‘Yes Miss Parker.’

Her laugh made him laugh too, ‘What you cooking for supper?’ She whispered.

‘Italian sausages in tomato and pasta stew.’

‘Wow – where did that come from?’

‘I remembered I used to cook,’ he paused, ‘er, no I forgot, I don’t have any Italian sausages. I’ll have beans on toast instead.’

‘But Jake, are you telling me you remembered you used to cook food like that?’

‘Yeah, it was strange, just now before my little sleep.’

‘You slept near the stream?’

‘Oh, only for a few minutes.’ He could have kicked himself. She didn’t believe him – he could hear it in her breathing.

Now she was using her professional voice, the one that meant this was no game. ‘It’s just as well that I’ve fixed for a car to pick you up every Tuesday. The driver will take you to a new rehabilitation centre where they will assess your progress.’

‘Oh, do I have to?’

‘Unless you want the local doctor to give you house calls on a regular basis you have to do what this doctor says. Do you understand?’

He understood only too well.

‘Good, then I will tell you more about the centre at this evening’s session.’

‘I will report this evening – scout’s promise.’

Before sliding the phone into his inside pocket Jake looked at its clock. Two hours slumped in the hollow base of a tree. He looked up and a bough of glossy dark green leaves swayed in the breeze. He crawled out and got to his feet, his fragile bones creaking with the strain. Clare was right; he must take better care. Yet why did he sense this isolated cottage with its ancient woodland was more therapeutic for his wellbeing than it was harmful?

~

That evening Clare went through the usual routine they had gone through during his convalescence, with her making notes of his replies to her questions and he being a good patient. Analysing he called it. Being professional was the tag she preferred.

‘Am I forgiven?’ He asked when the boring stuff was done with.

‘Forgiven for what? Exhausting yourself on your first day or preferring to live in isolation?’

‘Both,’ he held his hands up in the air. ‘I’ve remembered more things than the fact I used to cook, so I’ve made a list of things to be delivered – I feel I am part of the world again. So can we call a truce?’

With a nod she laughed, and a honey coloured lock sprung from the clip holding it in place. He hid his longing to reach out and tuck it behind her ear: his turn to act at being professional.

Clare swept the curl up without a glance – a movement he’d seen her do hundreds of times. ‘The letting agent phoned, asking if it was okay to allow you to do general maintenance work. They say you contacted them. They want medical clearance, want to make sure you are fit enough to haul tree trunks and such. What are you planning Jake?’

‘I’m going to store the broken branches and cut them into logs.’

‘The agent is happy if you are, but remember there are strict orders to keep the woodland natural,’ she added, ‘no pulling up roots or your guts out.’

‘I won’t. I mean yeah, no I mean no.’

‘And no sampling those mushrooms down by the water’s edge. She looked straight at him, her eyes piercing the screen and smile warming his heart. ‘Have to say Jake, despite my concerns, your little adventure has put colour into your cheeks.’

‘See, no need to worry about me.’

‘Early days Jake, early days.’

‘I know – but did the agent say if the owner’s are planning to stay in Australia for long?’

Again, Jake ached to touch the golden curls as they fell out of place, ‘I don’t know,’ she said pushing them back. ‘They only wanted medical clearance. They were just being kind and careful for your sake.’

‘Everyone has been incredibly kind. I phoned the garage where my motorbike was transported to, only to let them know my contact details.’

‘Oh dear, did they tell you what a state the bike was in?’

‘It’s on display in their showroom. They say it’s been wonderful for their business. They have it surrounded by photos of it when it was in its crashed state.’

‘You mean they’ve repaired it?’

‘Yes.’

‘But Jake, I don’t mean to pry, but it must’ve cost a fortune.’

‘They said Mr Austen told them to rebuild it. He’s that man from the insurance, remember?’

‘My goodness: you are certainly blessed with people who are on the ball.’

~

The next morning Jake unpacked more from his box of newly bought belongings and paused to thumb through the pages of his sketchbook: a gift from Clare after his arms came out of plaster. He flicked through it. All the sketches were of her. One day he will buy canvasses and paint. He put it on his mental list of things to do.

When Clare’s face appeared on the screen it showed concern then quickly broke into a laugh. ‘What on earth happened to you?’

‘In what way?’

‘Your face and t-shirt’s covered in soot.’ Jake looked down, wiped sooty hands across his front. ‘Oh no; Jake that’s made it worse.’

‘I’m er – I’m cleaning the kitchen range. It’s on my list of things to do.’

‘I see.’ It was obvious she didn’t.

‘I’m going to use it to roast the nuts I’ve gathered.’

‘Roasted nuts?’

‘Yeah, they make wonderful biscuits. When I’ve got the range up and running, I’m going to clean the sitting room wood-burner – it’s a bit smoky.’

‘I know the agent gave you clearance to collect wood but are there enough logs for two fires?’

‘There are fallen trees everywhere. And a bow saw hung in the outhouse. I thought the exercise would be good.’ He loved her smile of approval. ‘Is Miss Parker pleased? Sorry Dr Parker.’

‘Early days Jake, early days.’

~

Two weeks later Jake was woken by the brilliance of the first fall of snow as it bounced moonlight onto his bedroom ceiling. Like a child, he rushed to the window to catch the wonder before it disappeared. The snow wasn’t thick but gave the parking space outside the back porch a carpet of purity. And beyond, the moon had lit up the lines of snow on the tops of the branches etching them white against black. He had to draw it.

Later, after breakfast he showed off his sketch during his morning session with Clare, she appeared impressed. ‘Are you going to spend the day drawing?’

He shook his head, ‘According to my list, I’ve got logs to split and my freezer is running low. I’ll have to make another delivery order.’

She nodded, ‘Wise if it snows again.’

‘The clinic you send me to is on the next street to an Italian deli. They do delivery services and next to them is an art shop that sells acrylics and brushes, I thought I’d try my hand at painting.’

‘Okay Jake, I can see you are eager to tick off your job list. But this evening, I may have news from the letting agents. Their clients in Australia have been trying to contact them.’

Jake’s heart dropped and with it, seamed to miss several beats, ‘Oh – you don’t think they’re coming back do you?’

‘Don’t let that worry you; the lease is for a year. Nobody’s going to throw you out. I thought it might be about the locked shed, remember they promised to have it emptied for you.’

Jake leaned towards the screen, ‘I can put my bike in it.’

‘Oh really? I thought you agreed to allow the garage to keep it a while.’

‘Yes. And I will. I was thinking of the future. Some day I might like to ride it again.’

Clare looked at him. Not hiding the horror that filled her eyes. ‘And what about that strange blackout – the one you didn’t want me to know about, where does that fit in?’

‘I’ve had a lot more memory recalls than blackouts…’

‘Blackouts – in the plural?’

‘See. This is why I didn’t tell you.’

‘How many Jake and for how long do they last?’

‘I had a couple near the holly bush.’ He watched her make notes. ‘They don’t harm me Clare. Honest. I think they’re caused by the bright colours near the water’s edge, y’know a sort of strobe effect. But when I come round I feel so good. And memories become vivid Clare; they connect with other memories like my brain is weaving a kind of tapestry.’ He leaned closer to the screen. ‘You know when someone forgets what they were going to say and they use losing one’s thread to explain it. Well I think I’m finding the thread. I feel its something good, something positive.’ He watched as she continued to write. Her head bowed in front of the screen her curls falling forward. ‘Clare, please – I’m sorry I didn’t tell you – I know I’m getting better. I remember so many things – I remember the truck driver, his voice directing the emergency services to where I was lying, nobody told me he was foreign – I heard his accent in my head – it has been stored in my memory box – I am healing – my brain is healing.’

She looked up. Jake could sense she struggled to wear her professional face, ‘Okay,’ she capitulated, ‘we’ll talk more this evening. I’ll have to inform the team of this development.’ She closed her desk diary and keeping her eyes lowered reached for the mouse and was gone.

~

The holly bush stood in all its majesty; unashamed for the misery it had caused. Its prickly branches showing off bright red berries against dark glossy leaves had a sort of nonchalant swagger like they were waiting for him, almost daring him to come closer. But Jake kept at a safe distance and stared beyond the bush and down river towards the grey sea surrounded by the semi-circle of streetlights in the far off bay.

To his right, the stream gurgled, drawing his attention to the flat area of land where no trees grew and he wondered if some kind of marsh plant was responsible for knocking him out.

~

It was Mr Henderson, the orthopaedic surgeon who filled his screen that evening. ‘Hi Jake, I’m getting good reports about you. You certainly look well.’

‘Evening Gary,’ Jake scanned the area behind the surgeon’s desk, ‘where’s Clare?’

‘She asked me to take a look at you. I am and you look good. She’s concerned about your mind. Psychologists eh? She says some of your memory is returning to you. Are you coping as well as her report says you are?’

‘Better than her report says – but where is she?’

‘We’ve had some good news Jake. Our funding has been given a boost. Clare’s over the moon, she’s gone to attend an interview with them.’

‘Oh. Does that mean you will be leaving?’

Henderson laughed, ‘Not me, it’s Clare they’ve made the offer to and if all goes well, she’ll be seeing a lot more of you. Anyway I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.’ He looked closer, ‘Good news regarding your memory Jake. The others on the team agree the move to that cottage as woken your mind. I’m thinking of discharging you. How does that make you feel?’

‘Should make me happy but…’

‘Yes I know. Like we’re throwing you to the wolves.’

‘You’ve done so much for me.’

‘You’ve been the perfect patient. Clare will fill in the details – take care.’ The screen closed.

Jake was mulling over Henderson’s words when a vehicle, crunching the icy gravel outside the cottage, caught his attention.

A chauffeur-driven car circled the parking area and stopped outside the porch entrance. A man dressed in a business suit got out, said something to the driver and looked up when Jake reached out a hand to greet him.

‘I have so few visitors,’ he told the city gent, ‘I gather you are Mr Austen?’

Once inside, Jake pointed to a chair, ‘Please,’ he whispered, ‘Sit a while, I owe you and your insurance company so much.’

‘My insurance company?’

‘Yes, and for visiting me whilst I was in traction and taking care of my bike and for renewing my debit card and…’

‘Hang on – I only carried out your instructions.’

‘What instructions?’ And as Jake spoke the words, a thread of a memory came to him. He knew this man. He trusted this man and yes, he could have asked him, instructed him to do something, but what?

Mr Austen opened his briefcase and pulled out a set of documents. He placed them on Jake’s desk, turning them for him to read.

‘These papers refer to a business. Did I have a brewery?’

‘No Jake, you and your father owned a bakery.’

‘My father?’

Sadness rippled across Mr Austen’s face. ‘You looked after him very well Jake, no son could have done more.’

‘I, I don’t understand. Why would I forget a memory as powerful as that?’

‘Grief. It effects people in different ways.’

‘My father is dead?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do I have a mother?’

‘She died when you were a child. You and your father were inseparable.’

‘I see. So where do you fit into all this?’

‘I am your accountant. Our firm has looked after you and your father’s business for many years.’

Jake nodded and as the man sat opposite him spoke, more threads were connecting to old memories. ‘Tell me more.’

‘The land your bakery was on is surrounded by light industrial units. You asked us to find a suitable buyer so that you could care for your father’s medical needs. We did and during that time you expressed a desire to have a year away. You wanted to take your bike and travel. Our firm set you up with a card you could draw cash from and that’s when we were alerted to your accident.’

Jake recalled having two hundred pounds in his wallet. He used cash to pay for fuel and lodgings. His driving licence stated he lived at a place called The Old Brewery but the police said it had been demolished. ‘Please,’ he said, ‘tell me more.’

‘When we sold your property, you wanted, needed time to grieve the death of your father. Do you remember?’ Jake shook his head, Austen continued, ‘we – your solicitor and myself agreed to act on your behalf, so as to give you the time you asked for. We were to see the sale go through and as per your instructions, invest the money wisely. This we have done.’

‘Was it a good bakery?’

Austen nodded. ‘You and your father baked the best. When he took ill, you ran it yourself and looked after him. You should be proud of the care you gave him.’

‘Was it an Italian bakery?’

Surprised, Mr Austen laughed and shook his head, ‘No, it was an ordinary bakery that made good bread that filled the High Street cafes. People queued to buy your bread. What’s the Italian angle?’

‘My memory was lost during the accident; it has started to come back in bits and bobs. I have thoughts I used to cook Italian food.’

Mr Austen leaned forward. ‘Perhaps you did, but your memory loss has nothing to do with the accident. Before the funeral, you told us you wanted to take time away from everything. You handed over all your bank details, said you needed a small allowance, enough to pay for motels whilst you travelled on your motorbike. We agreed, you signed and then after the funeral you didn’t recognised us. My brother and I have looked after you and your father’s accounts for years. We have almost become family. It was only when the card we issued you with had stopped being used that I became concerned. I traced the ATM you last used. It was then that I learned about the accident.’

Jake’s eyes were filling with tears. How could he have forgotten his own father? How could he have forgotten this man who was sat before him?

‘I feel ashamed I forgot you all.’

‘Oh dear boy, don’t. We understood immediately what had happened. You and your father dedicated your lives to making bread. No holidays, no sickness until poor Joe was stricken. We all felt the shock. We have known grief and what strange things it can do to a person’s mind. We vowed to do what you asked us to do and also, we kept an eye on you. Don’t feel shame, you were, are a dear friend and the son of a dear friend.’ He coughed, ‘and you are also our client – a rather wealthy client, if you don’t mind my saying so.’

‘I don’t care for wealth, though if the owners would allow, and there is enough in the bank, then I would love to buy this cottage.’

Outside, another car drove round the parking area and came to a stop under the kitchen window. Mr Austen rose from his chair. ‘You have another visitor. I shall leave you in peace. I can’t wait to inform my colleagues of your progress, they all ask about you.’

‘I am blessed with such good fortune.’ Jake said as he heard Clare’s voice in conversation with the waiting driver. ‘Tell me. I don’t have a wife that I’ve forgotten about; have I?’

Austen laughed. ‘You worked every hour God sent you. It was well known you didn’t have time to court any of the young ladies, though you fancied a few, if my old memory serves me well.’

Jake clasped both hands around those of the elderly accountant. ‘Perhaps, it’s time I settled down then, don’t you think?’

‘Affairs of the heart bother me, they can get messy so I leave all that to the wife. Take care young Jake, we will keep you in touch.’

They embraced like family and as the old man made his way to the door, he stepped aside for Clare to enter and gave Jake a twinkle of approval with a slightly raised eyebrow before leaving and closing the door after him. Jake rushed to greet her, ‘I’ve got incredible news,’ he blurted.

‘So I see; but first, can I put my coat to dry? The chauffeur said you were talking business and I got covered in snow.’ She took it off and looked for somewhere to hang it. ‘What’s that delicious smell?’

‘Bread, it was on my list of things I’ve always wanted to do.’ Her laugh broke lose a curl and before she could raise her hand he gently swept it from her face, ‘that too is something I’ve always wanted to do.’

Her eyes sparkled before she looked down to her bag and pulled out two envelopes. ‘The agents gave me this. Looks like a card I think from Australia and this was left with Henderson’s team. They said by that insurance man, the one that’s just left here, what’s his name – Austen.’

Jake tossed the letter onto the desk but opened the card and read the message. ‘Our agent has told us all about your accident. We wish you a complete recovery and a Happy Christmas.’ Jake placed the card onto the dresser and turned to see Clare pulling a bottle from her bag. She pushed the bubbly towards him. ‘It’s chilled already, and as I can see you are bursting with good news, and I too have got something wonderful to celebrate, I thought perhaps you would like to join me?’ Her eyes danced. ‘I’ve got a feeling everything’s going to slot nicely into place Jake, and I’m so happy for…’

‘For me or for us?’

‘For us.’

He kissed the tip of her nose, ‘Good, now tell me your good news and I will find the glasses.’

Unable to wait, she followed him into the kitchen, ‘I’ve been offered a post with a research team attached to the treatment centre you attend. I will be working just in the bay. So I can keep my eye on you. Isn’t that splendid?’

‘Will you still be my doctor?’

‘Do you want me to?’

‘Not if you are to be professional.’

She laughed, and watched him push the champagne cork until it popped and hit the wall. Eyes dancing, she laughed again and when she shook her head, her curls fell out of place. Jake poured the bubbly liquid first into hers, then into his flute, leaned forward and took her fallen curls in his hand. ‘I take the shake of the head to mean you and I will have a future together, one that we can learn from each other, to care for each other, to cherish but it will never reach the realms of professionalism.’

She kissed him. ‘You don’t need a doctor. You’ve healed yourself. What you do need is a wife.’

‘You’ve taken the very words out of my mouth.’

‘Good.’

–

(c) 2024 Pat Barnett.