Eventually I must have gone to sleep, for I awoke in the middle of the night to escape the grip of a nightmare. There were lots of very small Vietnamese under my bed, slowly carrying the bed to the window where there was a ship waiting to take me back to Vietnam.
Malcolm Mombossu was standing by the bed with a food blender in his hand, while Lumsden was trying to persuade him not to open my head in order to insert the blade.
“It'll make far too much mess and I've got a new suit on,” he whined. “Besides, you can see you've got the wrong person, as she is nothing like that stinking mercenary Carlisle.”
“It's the same person, I tell you. I can tell because of the eyes, they are the same!”
I almost started to scream, but then I somehow realised that it was unreal, so I told them all to bugger off, and they surprised me by drifting away into nothing.
It was a relief to wake up, but I never looked forward to doing so, as I was used to having a thick head whenever I had nightmares. I hated the feeling, as all the dreams brought back all the unpleasantness with all the foul stench that those memories held.
Memories – that's all I was. I had nothing else that I could call my own. Many people, like Sarah, like Richard Cartwright; they had homes, jobs, partners, hopes, aspirations and futures.
All mine died with me in that bloody prison.
Then I had a long think about what I did have. I had a strong body, that may look completely different to my old one, but I thought that it looked better. I had a job, although I still wasn't sure exactly what I was supposed to be doing. Most importantly I had a future. Okay, so it wasn't the same as the one I'd envisaged, but then I failed to actually realise that one in any case, whatever it might have been.
The future was mine to write, so I determined to do better this time around.
Sarah arrived promptly, as I imagined she would. I couldn't see her ever being late for anything. I dressed in jeans, comfortable boots and a warm top, such was the weather.
We had a good day out that day. I learned more about her in those few hours than I think she wanted me to, and certainly, I had never been quite so intimate with anyone outside the medical profession – ever! Not in a sexual way, but simply as friends. After the initial reaction, she seemed genuinely interested and friendly. It was so weird walking the streets of London in my new persona, arm in arm with another girl of my own age. I went to familiar places and they seemed completely changed. People treated me so differently that I’d been used to as well. It had been different in the Far East, as it was a foreign culture, so I accepted everything as new. Here, it was a real eye opener, and I found myself enjoying the experience
“There’s no way I could ever tell you haven’t always been like this,” Sarah kept repeating during our lunch in a small Italian restaurant. It was very pleasant having European food for a change, as I had had quite enough rice and small dishes of oriental food to last me a lifetime.
“I feel completely at ease for most of the time, now, but if you see me doing anything out of place, please tell me,” I said.
He shook her head. “No, you’re completely natural. It’s amazing.”
The Italian waiter flirted with us, which was fun. But I found myself thinking about Carl. I deeply regretted not being able to say goodbye, but then I was a neither/nor person at that stage and wouldn’t have been able to take things any further even if I’d wanted to.
Did I want to?
Wasted question, as I was now here and he was wherever he was. Who know, perhaps one day……?
Later, around four, we went to the Agency office in Holborn. It was situated in an old building, giving no real hint of its existence, save one small brass plate with UNC thereon to the right of the front door.
Inside, going against the external appearance, the place was as high-tech as any I’d seen. Sarah took me to HR where I was given an identity card and signed in. I was surprised that I was expected. The HR assistant was a willowy young man called Neville who smiled a lot but I guessed preferred boys.
“We received a memo from head office that you were being assigned to the Special Assignment Section, so if you follow me, I’ll show you your desk,” he said, setting off for Sarah and me to follow.
The Section (yes, I know, it was called SAS) was a large office on the seventh floor with six big desks, all unoccupied at this time.
“That’s yours,” Neville said, pointing to a desk by the window. There was a PC with plasma screen on the desk, as well as a very functional telephone/fax. “If you need anything for stores, just give them a ring, they’re on 343, and they’ll deliver it to the desk.”
“No one else in?” I asked.
He shrugged.
“We don’t see much of anyone from this office, as the name suggests, they tend not to be here for very long.”
I thanked him and he smiled for the last time and left the two of us alone.
“Impressive. Where do you work?” I asked Sarah.
“Top floor. I’m one of the P.A.s for the boss.”
“One?”
“Five of us rush around doing everything and anything. Maryanne is rarely here, but she keeps us busy.”
I sat in the comfortable leather office chair and opened the drawers of the desk. They were all empty.
“What the hell am I supposed to do?” I asked.
Sarah laughed.
“You’ll find out. Maryanne gets her money’s worth out of everyone.”
“Hmm,” I said, wondering how much I owed her or how much she owed me.
“Do you want to see your old stuff?” she asked.
“Stuff?” I asked, momentarily baffled.
“Yes, the stuff from your flat. Remember?”
“Oh, I suppose so. Is it here?”
“Down in the store room in the basement.”
“Lead on,” I said, standing up.
We travelled down into the sub-basement via the lift. After walking a long way along a well-lit corridor, she finally opened a locked door and led the way into one of the many storerooms.
“Shit!” I said.
The entire contents of my flat was boxed and labelled on racks and the larger items along one wall of a very large room. The store room was larger than my entire flat, which was just as well.
“I’d not realised how much crap I’d accumulated,” I said, looking at a case of books.
“Do you want me to leave you alone?” Sarah asked.
“No, I may be foolish, but I’d rather you were here,” I said, feeling faintly afraid of looking too deeply into my old life.
In the end, we spent nearly an hour rummaging through my possessions. I selected two cases of books, some photographs and mementos and placed them all to one side. Then I changed my mind, taking the photographs and putting them with everything else. Most of them were of Rob Carlisle as a soldier or in a school team, or of my dead parents.
That person wasn’t me and I no longer wanted to have anything to do with him.
“This lot you can chuck or sell on eBay,” I said. “Those books and mementos can go to my desk, and I’ll sort them later.”
“Are you sure?”
I regarded the pile of furniture and belongings distastefully.
“These aren’t mine any more. They belonged to someone else and he’s dead. How do I explain to a lover that a picture of a little boy in a rugger team or soldier at Sandhurst was me?”
She smiled and nodded, understanding a little. I took a last look and walked out.
I definitely wasn’t Robert Carlisle any more.
I returned to the hotel alone, as Sarah had some work to do for Maryanne. I ate in the restaurant and retired early, sitting in bed watching some inane drivel on TV.
The following day, at Sarah’s suggestion, I decided to look for a flat, so at least I’d have somewhere of my own to retreat to if I was ever here in London again. I browsed the internet and couldn’t make up my mind where to locate myself. The problem with London is that it is too big. It’s really several towns all joined up into a gigantic urban sprawl. The Underground and bus system is such that you can get into the middle from just about anywhere in a reasonable time, and if I was honest, I wasn’t that keen to be in a crowded place, neither did I want to spend ages travelling in the dirty noisy underground tunnels.