“Your face still looks fucked up.” “Oh,” I say, taken aback. The girl's eyes narrow as she surveys me. “Lexi... it's me. You do know it's me, don't you?” “Right!” I make an apologetic face. “Look, I'm really sorry, but I've had this accident and I'm having some problems with my memory. I mean, I'm sure we have met” “Lexi?” She sounds incredulous; almost hurt. “It's me! It's Amy.” I'm speechless. I'm beyond speechless. This cannot be my baby sister. But it is. Amy's turned into a tall, sassy teenager. 52 Practically an adult. As she saunters around the room, picking things up and putting them down, I'm mesmerized by the height of her. The confidence of her. “Is there any food here? I'm starving.” She has the same sweet, husky voice she always didbut modulated. Cooler and more street-?wise. “Mum's getting me some lunch. You can share if you like.” “Great.” She sits down in a chair and swings her long legs over the arm, displaying gray suede ankle boots with spiky heels. “So, you don't remember anything? That's so cool.” “It's not cool,” I retort. “It's horrible. I remember up to just before Dad's funeral... and then it just goes fuzzy. I don't remember my first few days in hospital, either. It's like I woke up for the first time last night.” “Way out.” Her eyes are wide. “So, you don't remember me visiting you before?” “No. All I remember is you being twelve. With your ponytail and braces. And those cute hair clips you used to wear.” “Don't remind me.” Amy mimes puking, then frowns in thought. “So... let me get this straight. The whole of the last three years is a total blank.” “Like a big black hole. And even before that it's a bit foggy. Apparently I'm married.?” I laugh nervously. “I had no idea! Were you a bridesmaid at the wedding or anything?“ ”Yeah,“ she says distractedly. ”It was cool. Hey, Lexi, I don't want to bring this up when you're feeling so ill and everything, but...” She twists a strand of hair, looking awkward.

“What?” I look at her in surprise. “Tell me.” 53 “Well, it's just that you owe me seventy quid.” She shrugs apologetically. “You borrowed it last week when your cash card wasn't working and you said you'd pay me back. I don't suppose you'll remember...” “Oh,” I say, taken aback. “Of course. Just help yourself.” I gesture at the Louis Vuitton bag. “I don't know if there's any cash in there...” “There will be,” Amy says, swiftly unzipping it with a tiny smile. “Thanks!” She pockets the notes and swings her legs over the arm of the chair again, playing with her collection of silver bangles. Then she looks up, suddenly alert. “Wait a minute. Do you know about” She stops herself. “What?” She surveys me with narrowed, disbelieving eyes. “No one's told you, have they?” “Told me what?” “Jesus. I suppose they're trying to break things to you gradually, but, I mean...” She shakes her head, nibbling her nails. “Personally, I think you should know sooner rather than later.” “Know what?” I feel a beat of alarm. “What, Amy? Tell me!” For a moment Amy seems to debate with herself, then she gets up. “Wait here.” She disappears for a few moments. Then the door opens again and she reappears, clutching an Asian-?looking baby about a year old. He's wearing overalls and holding a beaker of juice, and he gives me a sunny smile. “This is Lennon,” she says, her expression softening. “This is your son.” I stare at them both, frozen in terror. What's she talking about?

“I guess you don't remember?” Amy strokes his hair fondly. “You adopted him from Vietnam six months ago. It was quite a story, actually. You had to smuggle him out in your rucksack. You nearly got arrested!” I adopted a baby? I feel cold to my guts. I can't be a mum. I'm not ready. I don't know anything about babies. “Say hello to your child!” She carts him over to the bed, clicking in her spiky heels. “He calls you Moo-?mah, by the way.” Moo-?mah? “Hi, Lennon,” I say at last, my voice stiff with selfconsciousness. “It's...it's Moo-?mah!” I try to adopt a motherly, cooing voice. “Come to Moo-?mah!” I look up to see Amy's lips trembling strangely. Suddenly she gives a snort of laughter and claps a hand over her mouth. “Sorry!” “Amy, what's going on?” I stare at her, suspicion dawning. “Is this really my baby?” “I saw him in the corridor before,” she splutters. “I couldn't resist it. Your face!” She's in paroxysms of laughter. “ 'Come to Moo-?mah!'” I can hear muffled cries and shouts coming from outside the door. “That must be his parents!” I hiss in consternation. “You bloody little... Put him back!” I collapse on my pillows in relief, my heart pounding. Thank fuck. I don't have a child. And I cannot get over Amy. She used to be so sweet and innocent. She used to watch Barbie Sleeping Beauty over and over with her thumb in her mouth. What's happened to her? 55 “I nearly had a heart attack,” I say reproachfully as she comes back in, holding a can of diet Coke. “If I died, it would be your fault.” “Well, you need to get savvy,” she retorts with an unrepentant grin. “People could feed you all kinds of bullshit.” She takes out a stick of chewing gum and starts unwrapping it. Then she leans forward. “Hey, Lexi,” she says in a low voice. “Have you really got amnesia or are you just making it up? I won't tell.” “ What? Why would I make it up?” “I thought there might be something you wanted to get out of. Like a dentist's appointment.” “No! This is genuine!” “Okay. Whatever.” She shrugs and offers me the gum. “No, thanks.” I wrap my arms around my knees, suddenly daunted. Amy's right. People could take total advantage of me. I have so much to learn and I don't even know where to start. Well, I could start with the obvious. “So.” I try to sound casual. “What's my husband like? What does h e . . . look like?” “Wow.” Amy's eyes open wide. “Of course! You have no idea what he's like!” “Mum said he was nice...” I try to hide my apprehension. “He is lovely.” She nods seriously. “He has a real sense of humor. And they're going to operate on his hump.” “Yeah. Nice try, Amy.” I roll my eyes. “Lexi! He'd be really hurt if he heard that!” Amy looks taken aback. “This is 2007. We don't discriminate because of looks. And Eric is such a sweet, loving guy. It's not his 56 fault his back was damaged when he was a baby. And he's achieved so much. He's awe-?inspiring.” Now I'm hot with shame. Maybe my husband does have a hump. I shouldn't be hump-?ist. Whatever he looks like, I'm sure I chose him for a very good reason. “Can he walk?” I ask nervously. “He walked for the first time at your wedding,” says Amy, her eyes distant with memory. “He got up out of his wheelchair to say his vows. Everyone was in tears... the vicar could hardly speak ” Her mouth is twitching again. “You little cow!” I exclaim. “He doesn't bloody well have a hump, does he?” “I'm sorry.” She starts giggling helplessly. “But this is such a good game.”