Chapter 11
St John Fisher Health Centre
Bristol
25th September
1 week earlier
Han and James Trafford waited for their call. Dr Sullivan was running late and their eleven o’ clock appointment should have been twenty-eight minutes ago.
Han had convinced his son to see a doctor to get to the bottom of his amnesia. His memory was all over the place. He couldn’t remember recent things that had happened in his life, and what he could recall seemed to be a complete muddle. About the only thing he remembered with clarity, were events going back to his childhood, more than fifteen years ago.
James had hardly said a word since going missing. He wasn’t eating, and spent most of the time locked in his bedroom. Han often heard him crying to himself.
James looked awful. His pallor was grey, he’d lost weight and his breath smelt dire.
Eventually James’ name flashed up on the electronic notice board. Han was first to stand up, and waited for James to pull himself out of the plastic chair and trudge behind his father to Dr Sullivan’s consulting room.
“How can I help you today?” asked Dr Sullivan in a calm, but authoritative tone.
Neither men answered. Han glanced at his son, who was gazing at his feet.
“I may need to speak on behalf of my son. He’s had a tough week or so.”
The doctor’s eyes flitted between Han and James.
“James, are you happy for your father to speak on your behalf?”
James shrugged and sneered giving a ‘whatever’ kind of response.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” mumbled the doctor, as he scribbled notes.
Han began.
“My son had been missing for four days. I’ve no idea where he’d been and when he returned he had no knowledge that he’d been away.”
The doctor nodded whilst jotting more notes.
“Since his return, he’s become very confused.”
“In what way?”
“I think he may be suffering from some kind of amnesia. He doesn’t recall things which have recently happened, nor can he recall things that go back quite some time. He has no problem with remembering things that happened when he was a kid, but after that things appear to have become very blurred for him.”
Dr Sullivan asked James if what Han said was true. He responded by slowly nodding his head, while gazing at the carpet.
James wasn’t engaging with the Doctor who was becoming impatient. He was running half an hour late and had a queue of patients waiting to see him.
“James is very confused right now. He doesn’t even remember his best friend,” said Han. He quietened his voice a little and added that James was convinced his friend had died when he was a teenager.
Dr Sullivan checked James’ blood pressure and pulse rate, during which no one spoke. Han found the whole thing very awkward.
“James, your father says that you have no recollection of going missing, is there anything at all that you do remember before you were supposed to have been away?”
“I’ve not been away,” he whispered in a quiet and shaken voice.
“Where were you?”
“Home, just at home.”
Han shook his head and mouthed to the doctor that he hadn’t.
“So what were you doing at home, your father is certain you’ve been away?”
“I wasn’t with him, I was at my home, with my family.”
“Okay James, where’s home, where do you live with your family?”
“Exeter.”
“So you were living in Exeter, with your family. What’s the last thing you can remember before you found yourself with your father?”
“Just normal stuff, you know, everyday things…… nothing in particular.”
“Did you have a bang on the head, or anything unusual?” asked the doctor noticing the fading bruise on the bridge of his nose.
“No, although I kept on having a nightmare, over and over, and it was the same thing every night.”
“Do you experience nightmares regularly?”
James shook his head.
“I had three nightmares, and each one was the same, well nearly the same. When I had the last one, it was different and when I awoke I found myself in Dad’s bedroom.”
The doctor faced Han, whose eyes reflected a look of disbelief, and the colour had drained from his face
“Did James wake up in your room? Is this what happened?”
Han didn’t answer, he stared at James in astonishment.
“Mr Trafford, did James wake up in your room? Is this how it happened?”
Han was lost in his own thoughts.
“Mr Trafford, are you alright?”
Han snapped out of his daze, “I’m sorry what did you say?”
The doctor asked again if James had been in his room.
“Yes I’d woken to find him sprawled sideways across the top of my bed. That’s pretty much as I remember it.”
“James, what about your family, they must be worried about you. Have you called them?”
James nodded. “I’ve called home, but the number doesn’t ring, I’ve sent emails to my wife, but they’ve been returned as undelivered.”
“So you’ve not been back to Exeter?”
James shook his head and his gaze returned to the floor.
Dr Sullivan turned his attention to Han, who still appeared to be shaken and looked pale.
“I agree that it does seem that your son is suffering from some sort of memory loss and is confused. This sort of thing is often caused by anxiety, stress, depression and other such things. I’m concerned about the bruise on his face, as he may have experienced concussion. I recommend James has blood tests. Also, I’ll refer him to a consultant.”
The doctor typed into his computer.
“Go to reception where the blood test will be arranged. You will hear from a consultant in the next few days.”
James and Han left the doctor’s surgery, waited at reception, arranged for the blood tests and then headed back to Han’s house. No one spoke on the journey home.
Han opened the front door and James pushed past and headed upstairs to his room. Han needed to talk with his son. There was something they needed to discuss.
“James, wait!”
James stopped halfway up the stairs, and then continued to his room.
“James, please come back down. There’s something we need to talk about and you know what it is.”
“I don’t want to,” said James from the top of the stairs.
“JAMES!” shouted Han.
James stopped outside his bedroom and faced the door.
Han moved to the foot of the stairs.
“There’s an elephant in the room, and we need to talk about it. We can’t ignore it,” said Han in a quieter tone. “Please come down. I’ll make a pot of tea and let’s have a chat.”
He watched James, with his hand poised on the door handle. James edged back to the top of the stairs.
“Come down son.”
Han heaved a sigh as James made his way down. When he reached the bottom, he threw his arms around his father and sobbed. Han hugged him and held back tears of his own.
Ten minutes later both men were sitting in the lounge, each with a mug of tea.
Han spoke first.
“We need to talk about your nightmares. I think I know exactly what you were dreaming.”