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‘I feel the same way now.’
‘I don’t.’
There was too much truth in what Damien was suggesting. Natalie felt an urgent need to escape from it. She found the handle, lifted it, and flung the door open. Before Damien could stop her she leapt out of the taxi, plunging away from him.
She heard the shout, ignored it. The screech of tyres gripping the road surface in protest she didn’t ignore. She didn’t see the car in the other lane. She didn’t feel it hit her, and she didn’t feel any pain. Violet, purple and red colours merged momentarily on her retina. She felt an impact. Then nothing, nothing at all.
CHAPTER THREE
NATALIE’S mind was definitely fuzzy. She had the sense of being disembodied. She was in a bed. It wasn’t her own bed. How she knew she wasn’t quite sure, but she knew.
She tried to reason out where she was and why. Nothing surfaced. Her memory seemed to have disintegrated into a jigsaw where the pieces needed to be sorted out. She gave up the effort. The thought came to her she should open her eyes and look.
She did so with some trepidation. It was a hospital bed. Tubes looped to her arm. She shut her eyes again. She’d seen enough to identify where she was. It was an intensive care unit.
Someone was talking nearby.
‘...severe concussion. Brains are a bit scrambled at the present moment. Nothing broken. Nothing that won’t heal properly.’
It was an affable voice, speaking with confident authority, but how dared he speak of her brains as if they were a pastiche of broken eggs!
‘So the prognosis is...?’
A different voice, deeper, warmer, richer, more passionate.
‘Fine. There’ll be some memory loss for a short period. That will return quite naturally.’
‘How long?’
‘Somewhere between a few days and a few months.’
‘But her memories, all her recollections, will return?’
‘Without fail. Everything.’
Natalie forced a wary eye open. Who were these people who appeared to be discussing her quite openly in front of her?
The light wasn’t too bad. She opened the other eye, as well. Two doctors stood at the foot of the bed.
‘Ah, she’s awake again.’
That was the affable voice. It belonged to a short, slightly built man with sandy hair and spectacles.
‘Do you know your name?’ he asked.
‘Of course, I know my name. It’s Natalie.’
‘Natalie what?’
‘It’s not Natalie Watt at all.’
‘Can you tell me your second name, Natalie?’
The persistent questioning made her feel very uncomfortable. She knew she knew the answer but it didn’t come to mind.
‘Natalie Something,’ she responded irritably. They wouldn’t be able to argue with that.
‘That’s good. Very good,’ the affable man soothed.
