“No, there are no bruises at all. No scars, not a mark, anywhere.”
“How about sexually?”
“No, she’s still intact. Very rare, in this day and age, considering her general age and appearance.”
“How old is she?”
“That’s a hard one. She’s fully mature, so my guess would be she is about the twenty mark, but she could be a little either side. She has no marks, scars or blemishes at all, not even a mole, no stretch marks and physically as perfect a specimen as I have ever seen. She’s well fed and has exceptionally good muscle tone. She has the build of an athlete, like a swimmer.”
“What happened to her clothing?”
“I’ve no idea, as she never had any when she arrived. She was soaked to the skin and really quite cold. The paramedics wrapped her in one of their blankets, but if she wasn’t in such superb shape, she may well have died.”
“How long had she been in the open?”
“Hard to say, but judging how quickly she returned to normal, not that long, four or five hours at the most.”
“We spoke to the man who found her. He says she was still warm when he checked her pulse. He also said she wrapped in a black plastic sheet.”
“Yes, the sheet saved her life, so I think she would have died without it. She’s a tall girl, well built and, as I said, very fit. There’s no reason to suppose she won’t make a complete recovery.”
“She’s very attractive. She looks foreign, what with short hair and high cheek bones; do we know whether she spoke English with an accent?”
“The nurse didn’t mention it.”
“When is she on duty next?”
“Tomorrow morning. She went off three hours ago. We did call you as soon as she came round.”
“I’m aware of that, doctor. We don’t normally come out for unidentified people found, but the circumstances are rather odd.”
“I agree, why would a pretty girl like this have such short hair?”
“God knows. It could be a fashion statement, or, if what you said about her being a virgin, she could be a lesbian.”
“Really?” the doctor sounded surprised and a little shocked.
My brain was working hard to keep sane.
They were talking about me as being female.
That wasn’t right, was it?
I couldn’t move without letting them know I was awake.
I wasn’t female; I knew that. But these people had seen me naked, but if a doctor said I was a girl, then who the hell was I to argue?
If I was female, then why didn’t I remember that?
I didn’t remember being male, if it came to it, but somehow I just knew I should be.
Or was I?
I decided to wake up.
I moaned and moved slightly, brushing my chest with the back of my right hand.
Okay, I had boobs, so I was female after all. A weird sense of exhilaration coursed through my entire being, but I didn’t understand why.
Bugger!
Why couldn’t I remember anything?
I opened my eyes and saw the two men looking down at me.
One wore a white coat, while the other was in a dark suit. He had a nasty stain on his tie. He looked like a cop. Now, how or why should I think that?
I was in a private room. They must have moved me while I’d been asleep.
The doctor smiled.
“Hello, how do you feel?”
I looked at him and then at the policeman.
“Confused. Why am I here?”
“You were found unconscious and were brought in so we could make sure you are okay. You’ve been unconscious for several days. Can you remember what happened?”
I shook my head. This was very weird.
“Can you remember your name?” the policeman asked.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“I’m Detective Inspector Richard Furness. We’re trying to piece together what happened to you. So any help you can give me would be most appreciated.”
“I can’t remember anything. I dreamed that I was in a desert. It was real and I feel that I had been there, but that it was some time ago.”
I tried hard to catch a glimpse of any memory that might help. Faces came and went, but in a meaningless parade of confusion.
“What desert?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. I just remember the heat and the cold at night.”
“Did she have anything in her possession, doctor?”
“Nothing at all.”
“Would it help if she saw the plastic sheet?”
The doctor shrugged.
“I doubt it, but if you want, I’ll have it brought up.”
“I want. I’ll need to take it in as an exhibit.”
The doctor smiled at me and walked off. The policeman pulled up a chair and sat close to the bed.
“Now, you aren’t in any trouble, but we need to know who you are. Do you speak any other languages?”
“Why?”
“You look as if you might be from Scandinavia, so I was just wondering.”
I shook my head.
“I don’t know, I don’t think so.”
“Parlez vous francais?” he asked in a terrible accent.
“I know that’s French, but I only know a little of that,” I replied.
“Do you know where you are from?”
“Not Hull, that I do know.”
“How do you know where you are?”
“The nurse told me, earlier. I’ve never been to Hull before in my life, I’d swear on it.”
“So, where are you from?”
I shook my head again. “Down south?” I said, tentatively.
“Where?”
“London?”
“Big place, love, any better idea?”
“I’m sorry. I can’t seem to remember anything.”
“Well, you don’t sound from around here, so it’s more likely you’re from the south. Although, you don’t have any regional accent at all.”
The doctor returned with some black plastic sheeting and a pair of tough looking boots.
“These boots aren’t hers,” the doctor said.
“How do you know?”
The doctor untucked my feet and held the boot up against my naked foot. We all looked at my small foot against the large boot. For some reason they were familiar, but I could see that they couldn’t be mine.
“These are size ten, but she’s a six or a seven at best. They were brought in because they were found close to her.”
The detective examined them.
“They’re used but sound, why should anyone chuck them away? Can I take these?” the policeman asked.
“As I said, I don’t think they’re hers, but she hasn’t anything else.”
“I’ll arrange something. I’ll have a WPC drop in and take some measurements and ask her to get something from the social services.”
Turning to me, the inspector asked, “Do you remember these boots or this sheet?”
I shook my head.
“May I take your fingerprints and DNA? We may get a clue as to who you are that way.”
“If you want. I’ve never been in trouble, you know?”
“How do you know that?”
I smiled, shrugging. “I don’t, but I doubt I have been. I think that I’m always careful.”
“I’ll arrange for the same officer to take your prints when she comes in for your measurements.”
He took the boots and plastic, leaving me alone with the doctor.
“Right, we may not know who you are, but I know who I am, so I’d better introduce myself. My name’s Martin Penshurst. How do you feel?”
“Confused and frustrated.”
“Apart from that, any pain?”
“A slight headache and I think I’m hungry. I’ve also got a foul taste in my mouth.”
He sat in the chair next to the bed.
“You’ve been in a coma for about eight days. You were found in some woodland soaked to the skin. Can you remember anything at all?”
I shook my head. “Nothing.”
“Well, we know you aren’t married and we can be pretty certain you’re British. It just remains for us to wait until you remember or the police find out who you are. I’m going to arrange for a paper and pencil to be left by the bed. If you dream of anything, no matter how silly or strange, please write it down. It could be some small clue as to your identity and how you managed to end up in here.”