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On the other side I stop and say, ‘Look, what’s going on? I woke up this morning in a place I’ve never seen but that’s apparently my home, lying next to a man I’ve never met who tells me I’ve been married to him for years. And you seem to know more about me than I know about myself.’

He nods, slowly. ‘You have amnesia,’ he says, putting his hand on my arm. ‘You’ve had amnesia for a long time. 

‘You can’t retain new memories, so you’ve forgotten much of what’s happened to you for your entire adult life. 

‘Every day you wake up as if you are a young woman. Some days you wake as if you are a child.’

Somehow it seems worse, coming from him. A doctor. ‘So it’s true?’

‘I’m afraid so. Yes. The man at home is your husband. Ben. You’ve been married to him for years. Since long before your amnesia began.’ 

I nod.‘Shall we go on?’I say yes, and we walk into the park. 

A path circles its edge, and there is a children’s playground nearby, next to a hut from which I see people emerge carrying trays of snacks. 

We head there, and I take a seat at one of the chipped Formica tables while Dr Nash orders our drinks.

When he returns he is carrying two plastic cups filled with strong coffee, mine black, his white. 

He adds sugar from the bowl on the table but offers none to me, and it is that, more than anything, that convinces me we have met before. 

He looks up and asks me how I hurt my forehead. ‘What—?’ I say at first, but then I remember the bruise I saw this morning. My make-up has clearly not covered it. 

‘That?’ I say. ‘I’m not sure. It’s nothing, really. It doesn’t hurt.’ He doesn’t answer. He stirs his coffee.

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