Maida parks the car in front of a pair of large wooden doors with black hinges. We get out and are greeted by severe rain, it pelts down much harder than before, soaking through my clothes instantly. I step in a puddle of water as I continue to the door. The heavy wooden doors open slowly, they're smothered in varnish, light reflects off them as they shift. A small woman steps out, her white hair pinned back into a tight bun. Her dark eyes shoot daggers at me. I stare back trying to remember her but I recall nothing.
“Well, you’re going to come in, yes? Or are you going to stand in the rain all day?” She tries to sound lighthearted but it doesn’t come off as genuine.
I look at the woman, we share similar features, the same nose, the same dark eyes. This must be my mother. Maida and I move quickly towards the doors, the small woman holds them open for us and we step inside.
“Agnes!” She shrieks as she closes the doors. She puts her arm out to stop us from walking further inside. “You’re both soaking wet, stay here.”
A woman comes in dressed in all white, her shirt buttoned up to her neck, her blonde hair slicked back. She looks us both up and down and then turns to the other woman. “Mrs Taylor?”
“Towels, get towels! And some dry clothes for them both.”
“Yes, Mrs Taylor.” She scurries off, her feet moving quickly under her plain white cotton skirt.
“Well, where have you been? I’ve been worried sick about you.” She speaks in a monotone. “And who is this?” She waves her hand towards Maida.
“I’m Maida, I’m a friend of Elena’s.” Maida holds her hand out to shake and Mrs Taylor disregards her and turns back to me. She raises her eyebrows, waiting for an answer.
“I was in an accident.”
“So you don’t call or anything? Typical.”
I wondered if that was true. Did I keep secrets from my own mother?
“I’m sorry. I can’t remember anything.”
Agnes comes back with fluffy grey towels and hands them to Maida and I. We thank her and she hurries off once again. I begin to dry my hair and check out the house, it looks incredible. There are high ceilings with chandeliers and large windows. There’s a mix of modern and older art on the walls, antique furniture in perfect condition. I can see a roaring fire in a room nearby. I’m thankful my memory isn’t back for once, I wouldn’t have the fun of checking this place out with new eyes. I wrap the plush towel around my shoulders. Agnes comes back and tells everyone that some dry clothes are ready in their rooms. I take off my shoes and socks and make my way upstairs, my damp feet sink into the thick carpet on the stairs. Agnes takes me to my door and takes my shoes and socks from me. I walk inside the room and close the door. It feels strange to be alone.
I look around the bedroom, it’s massive, a four poster bed sits in the middle, red fabric hanging artfully from the top. A dollhouse stands next to the fireplace. It looks like a replica of this house. I walk toward it and open the back, there’s a miniaturised version of this room. The tiny bedroom is decorated with miniature antiques, old paintings hang on the walls, a rocking horse sits under a window. It’s almost identical. I stand up and walk over to the bed, clothing is laid out for me, neatly folded. I pick up the clothes and study them, they all feel luxurious, made from materials like cashmere and silk.
I walk to the window and look down at the lawn below, the rain has started to subside. A young man stands outside, a rake in his hand, he looks up at me from the garden, he raises a hand to wave, I wave back. I don’t recognise him. He stares up for a moment longer and then turns his back walking out of my view. He has one of those faces that doesn’t really make an impression, even if I had my memory back I might not remember him, average height, brown eyes and hair, he blends in. I turn from the window and bump into a dapple grey rocking horse, the paint is cracked, the lacquer glistens even in the dull light. I touch it, it’s smooth and cold.
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All of a sudden I’m back in this bedroom. I'm sitting on the rocking horse, my short legs on either side of the red saddle. I'm wearing a white cotton dress with pink sandals. I hold on to the mane tightly, someone is rocking me back and forth. I look up, a man smiles at me, he looks kind, he’s laughing. I am too. He pushes his glasses up on his nose. This man is my father. He looks so happy, I glance over and see my mother in the doorway, arms crossed, she’s leaning against the doorframe smiling. She looks relaxed, so different to how she looks now. The sun is so bright, it shines through the window, it’s warm. It’s perfect.
The flashback suddenly ends and I’m back to my dreary rain filled reality. I could feel a smile on my face. I look forward to seeing my father again. I sit on the bed for a minute and recover.
I put on the dry clothes. The material is so soft against my fingers, I place all the wet clothes in a pile on the floor unsure of where to put them. Once I’m fully dressed, I scoop them up and walk down the hallway hoping I will find a laundry. It feels like I’m in a hotel, there are so many rooms, I try the doorknobs and they’re all locked, it seems my whole life is filled with locked doors now, even in my own head. I give up and turn around, bumping directly into Agnes, we both drop what we’re holding, her a tray of tea and biscuits, me, my wet clothes. The tea set falls from the tray and breaks to pieces on the floorboards.
“I’m so sorry Elena.” Agnes kneels down to pick up the mess, I crouch down to help her.
“That’s okay. It was my fault.” I try to sort through the broken shards of teapot, placing them on the tray. Agnes grabs my wrist, her face is close to mine.
“Why did you come back?” She whispers hurriedly, her eyes wide.
“This is my home. Isn’t it?”
Agnes drops my wrist quickly. “This isn’t a home. After all that’s happened here, why would you decide to come back?”
We hear footsteps coming down the hall. Quickly Agnes gets up, dusts herself off and walks away. “I’ll clean this up later, your mother wants to talk to you in the sitting room.”
I look up, still crouched on the floor, Maida stands a few feet away, the source of the footsteps. “Hey, you okay?” She asks.
“Yeah, just dropped some stuff.” I stand up and look at the mess on the floor.
“I doubt your mother would approve. She seems very uptight.” She laughs.
“Yeah, speaking of my mother, I better go talk to her.”
Maida puts a hand on my shoulder. “You'll be alright.”
We walk downstairs, I glance into the open doorway at the bottom of the steps, the room with the fireplace. I see my mother sitting down in a plush green armchair, surrounded by dark wooden bookshelves.
As I walk through the doorway my mother glances up. “There you are, I had Agnes get some snacks for you and your friend. Sit down.”
Maida and I sit on an antique couch across from her, upholstered with red velvet, it has glossy wooden legs, gold tassels hanging off the arms. My mother sets a glass down on a silver tray on the table in front of her. A multi-tiered tower of sandwiches and cakes sits next to her glass.
“I apologise for earlier, I know that sometimes I can appear to be a tad abrupt.” My mother says, leaning back.
“That’s fine!” Maida says shoving a tiny square of cake into her mouth. My mother looks on in horror but says nothing, she turns to me, a small smile playing on her lips. “Anyway, no matter what happened, I’m glad that you’re back. When you left I had expected the worst and regardless of what went on before you left, I forgive you.”
“Okay.” I smile weakly back at her. What on earth is she talking about?
“Oh sweetheart, you really remember nothing of what happened before you left? You don’t remember why you left?”
“No, nothing.”
“Well, maybe that’s for the best. It wasn’t your finest moment.” She laughs softly.
“What happened? What did I do?”
“Let’s not dwell on it, we should move on. After your father died, our relationship became strained. You and your brother used to be very close. Now that you’re back you can begin to repair the damage.”
A sudden horror shoots straight through me, my father is dead, the smiling man from my memory, my heart aches for someone I don’t even remember.
“I have a brother?”
“Yes, Michael. He doesn’t live far from here, he’s a doctor.” She states proudly. I can instantly tell who my mother’s favourite child is, it isn’t me.
“Tonight I’ve invited him for dinner, he and his wife, he’ll be glad to know that you’re alright.” Her tight smile makes her lips disappear. It looks like the effort is causing her pain. I wish I’d stayed in a motel.