Amnesia

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He heard a cry, almost a scream, cut short. Then the rapid tap of feet on floorboards.

‘Jesus Christ! What happened to you? How long have you been there like that? Oh, you poor wee man!’

The voice was Scottish, female, concern verging on panic.

He was lying on something hard. He was cold. And his head hurt like hell. He tried to open his eyes but he couldn’t.

He felt a gentle nudge on his arm. And then a hand on his cheek. Warmth.

‘You’re so cold! Are you alive, pet? Wake up! Open your eyes!’

His eyelids felt as if they were zipped shut, but he wanted to reassure the woman before panic overwhelmed her.

He forced them open. He saw a pair of tight blue jeans. And a concerned, lined face beneath short blond hair. A tattoo of a Chinese character in green ink on a collarbone.

‘Thank Christ! You are alive!’

He tried to say ‘yes’, but all he could manage was a groan.

His head hurt. A herd of elephants wearing stilettoes was performing a dance at the back of his brain.

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