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I frown at him. ‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘I’ve only just started.’ He pretends to sound wounded. ‘To cut a long story short, last weekend, I decided I’d let her down too many times, so I went on my first march.’
‘Wow.’ I’m impressed. ‘What was it about?’
‘Climate change. And before you say anything, I know I have a ridiculous car – and it isn’t the reason I bought it, but I know for a fact its carbon footprint is low. Anyway, this march… It was one of the most awesome things I’ve done. Ever…’ he adds, looking slightly surprised. ‘Once I started reading about why it was taking place, I had to go. People need to stop burying their heads in the sand and understand what’s going on in the world.’
Yet again, he’s surprising me. ‘I’m definitely guilty of that.’ Right now, I have other things on my mind. But that, I suppose, is the point.
It’s as though he reads my mind. ‘Obviously right now, you have enough going on. But for me… I suppose it’s part of trying to be a more considerate, aware human being, rather than a selfish one. The old me would have found it hilarious.’ He shakes his head. ‘The thing is, events like the march are reallyimportant. In so many ways, the world is changing. Climate change is one of the big questions in people’s minds. The world as we used to know it doesn’t exist any more. I think there’s a global sense of grief for that.’
I listen with interest. ‘I hadn’t thought of it like that.’
‘Nor had I. I found something out about Freya.’ Forrest pauses. ‘Her little sister is seriously ill – or she would have come with her. It somehow made it more important to be there – for all the people who couldn’t.’ He stops for a moment. ‘I probably sound a bit fanatical. But I don’t know how to describe it, other than there was an energy, a buzz from all these passionate, like-minded people. As we got closer to central London, the crowd was huge. There were police all over the place but there didn’t need to be. There was no trouble.’
‘I wish I’d been there,’ I say regretfully.
‘Next time,’ he says firmly. ‘And yes, I think you had to be there to get a sense of how it felt. I mean, it was about climate change, obviously. But it was more than that. It was about the basic human right of people, united by a single passion, wanting to be heard.’
‘It really got to you, didn’t it?’ I say softly.
He sighs. ‘I suppose it did. It isn’t so easy to make your voice heard. Together, however… There was a power in their numbers. Something like that raises the human spirit – and right now, people need that.’
‘Are you sure this is you?’ I say cautiously.
There’s a light in his eyes. ‘I think I like this version of me.’ He pauses, smiling for a moment. ‘You see, I’ve worked out that whoever I was before, I don’t want to be someone who looks away.’ His gaze is unflinching as he reaches for one of my hands. ‘I want to be someone who cares.’
The conversation with Forrest leaves me deep in thought. Life, for me, has been about travelling the world, experiencing different cultures and ways of life. But there is so much closer to home that’s passed me by, I can’t help thinking as I head for Rae’s bookshop.
‘I want to meet him,’ Rae says when I tell her I’ve seen him again.
‘I’m sure you will at some point.’ I think she’ll really like him.
She frowns. ‘You’re sure he isn’t playing some kind of game with you? I mean, you did describe him as the lawyer from hell.’
‘Completely.’ I can hardly blame her for asking, but it’s like the person he was doesn’t exist any more. ‘I was wondering…’ I hesitate. ‘Do you have any books about the effects of trauma?’
Without asking more, she goes over to one of the shelves, perusing the titles before selecting one. ‘I think this is what you’re looking for.’
Taking it from her, I read the title.Living Consciously.
‘It isn’t what it sounds like,’ she says. ‘It delves into the unconscious and its influence on how we perceive things. Actually, there’s another – a brilliant novel.’
I gaze at the book, astonished that she knows exactly what I’m looking for, as she hurries off to find the other one.
‘Here you are.’ She passes me a paperback. ‘It’s about a man who almost dies. But when he wakes up, he’s a completely different person. A bit like Forrest?’ She looks at me quizzically.
‘I’ll take them both.’ I get out my bank card, impatient to get home and start reading.
It turns out the protagonist in the novel is oddly like Forrest in some ways, less so in others. But it leaves me with a question as to where these different versions of ourselves come from.
Next time I see Forrest, he’s preoccupied. ‘Do you have time for a walk?’ he asks.
‘I have an hour or so.’ I look at him more closely. ‘Are you OK?’
‘I feel like I’m going mad,’ he says quietly.
I look at him quizzically. ‘More flashbacks?’
