FRIDAY SERIAL - Duncan's Temporary Amnesia ( Epi 3 )

He awoke- immediately panicked - what the hell ? Realising he was safely at home, he calmed down. Naked, in his own bed, in his own scuzzy flat. What happened last night? Duncan rustled noisily around in his mind trying to unearth any recollection that would explain everything. God, his head was thick, was he hung over? Struggling to focus on recalling anything. This was way worse than any hangover he'd ever experienced. No recollection at all of how he'd even got home. There was going to the Night of Clairvoyance, that he remembered. The boys on the door. The stalls, that odd woman Avril. The room packed with people waiting for the clairvoyance to begin. After that it was all rapidly engulfed by a fog of unknowing. Nothing until waking up just now

Coffee, he needed coffee. The flat felt distinctly chilly. What time was this anyway? Grabbing a thin cotton dressing gown, once white now beige, because he never washed it. Shrugged it on, headed for the kitchen. Peering bleary eyed at a clock. Was that 5am, Christ!  He was never knowingly intimate with this time in the morning. His door keys and mobile slung on the kitchen table. The jacket he'd worn last night folded over the back of a chair, a booklet rolled up in its pocket. He pulled it out. A programme of future events at the masonic hall. Someone had underlined and asterisked a couple of them. An evening of healing and a social gathering, no, a fundraiser slash recruitment for a project they were launching. No idea about any of that. Maybe it'll come back. Give it time. Meanwhile, make yourself some bloody coffee!

Kettle filled, switched on, a mug, teaspoon of instant, slop of milk. Standing fidgety and impatient, Duncan already felt really really wired. Well, much more intensely than he was familiar with. Once the coffee was made he sat down and tried, unsuccessfully, to put the memory loss to one side for even one moment. The kitchen looked pretty much as usual. The grossly familiar sea of unwashed plates and pans. Butter left out and long ago gone to ghee and back again. That sense of order and control over his life, it would return one day, wouldn't it? 

He plunged his hands into the jacket pockets for anything else that might be a clue. Jog those temporarily addled brain cells. Wallet, Bits of small change, work ID (now defunct), sweet wrappers, two business cards. One for a print company, another card for booking life counselling and clairvoyance with - oh yeah - Malcolm Ritchie. Remember him. Good looking. Not everything lost then. Written on the card's reverse - 'Phone me! Luv A xxx' That felt too creepily over familiar. Caffeine, is a wonder drug, but he needed a bit more clarity right here and now.

What had he said he'd do? His imagination momentarily ran off on a story line in his head, about being forever stalked by these people and never being able to shake them off. God, what had he done, what had he done? A wave of mini panic overtook him, whilst sweating and aimlessly pacing about. What did he normally do when this sort of thing happened? Eat, yeah, let's eat. So he searched the fridge, the cupboards, nothing more than a rather floppy pack of ryvitas, no jam, and the rancid butter. If he wanted a fry up he'd have to go the end of the block to Bargain Ben's. As he stumbled whilst dressing himself, he couldn't help but notice that his clothes, rather than scattered randomly across the floor, were carefully folded on the bed. Something he'd never do sober or drunk. Then as he walked towards the door to leave, his eye was drawn to the side table. Envelopes, cards and paperwork all in a neatly organised pile. Someone else had been here. They'd taken his clothes off, put him to bed, then gone through his bills and stuff. Christ all bloody mighty!

Bargain Ben's was run by a local Muslim family, the Ben Ali's. Open 24/7 and packed to the gills with food, booze, stationary, photo copying , even toys! Which one of the family would be on the early morning shift today? Fortunately it was Ravina, the elder daughter. He liked Ravina, and she appeared to like him. Some of the males in her family stared at him as if he were their sworn enemy. Ravina never did. Today she was sorting through the newly arrived papers and mags. She clocked him, smiled, said a warm 'Hello' and carried on cutting straps and organising the delivery into discreet piles. Duncan headed straight for the freezer and chilled cabinets, found sausages, eggs, butter, bread, beans etc. At the counter Davina gave him a concerned look.

'You look rougher than usual, heavy night was it, with you and your friends?' 

'Friends? Did you see me Ravina....... last night?'

'From a distance, you were being literally helped out of a car and carried home by four, maybe five people. That was well after midnight. I'd just driven here. You don't remember last night?'

'Nope, not a thing. Its all a bit of an unknown quantity at present, and its fuckin freaking me out right now.'

'Oh go easy. It'll return In embarrassing technicolour detail no doubt. That's nine twenty six please.'

Duncan unscruched a tenner from his pocket, paid her, picked up the change and plastic bag full of food. He frowned, feeling even more out of sync with reality than before. He'd been brought home. Had a good look round whilst he was out cold. Invading his privacy. He momentarily froze. Then shaking himself out of it.

'Thanks Ravina. You finishing soon?'

'Yes, not my favourite shift. Some deeply unpleasant folk hang around the estate at night. My Father will be here any time soon. See yah later.''

'Bye, enjoy the rest of your day'

Once back at the flat. Fry up made and eaten. Second, then third coffee. Duncan began to feel more himself. He kept rerunning over what he did remember. Gradually things started turning up to fill previously empty spaces, like lost jigsaw pieces. Though a lot was still not there. The time between the beginning of the clairvoyance and him waking on the bed was pretty vague still. Though he'd begun to get a half remembered sensation of having completely blacked out. He hadn't drunk a lot, had he? Just the one glass of cheap plonk Avril had given him, he remembered that clearly enough.

An alarm suddenly struck up on his mobile. Gosh, it can't be his usual eight o'clock wake up call already. It wasn't, this was a totally unfamiliar alarm. It said - 'Book your meeting, Today!  Luv A' That imaginary story line from earlier. The one that sent him into a whirlwind of anxiety. Well, maybe that was not so far fetched after all.

NEXT EPISODE - Duncan's Remembrance of Things Past ( Episode 4 / 12 )
Will be posted next Friday 23rd September