‘So what he does remember isn’t a true account? He might have plucked my name from thin air with no real memories of what I was to him.’
‘I do think he knows who you are. I think there are fragments of your life together that he remembers and that are coming back to him. He told me about the first time you both met. He refers to you sometimes as if you lived together. Now we know you have been part of his life, it makes far more sense.’
I realise that I don’t want this lady to walk out of here and never have the chance to meet Clive again. I want her to have tea served from the pot with sugar tongs and pink wafers as side accompaniments. I want her to taste Clive’s pickled onions and to bear witness to his unusual clothing choices.
‘I very much doubt he’d know who I was. If he didn’t remember back then, a few snippets of recollection aren’t going to translate into knowing who I am now. It was over fifty years ago. He’ll be remembering a different person to the one that is sitting before you now.’
Tess clatters her coffee cup into its saucer. ‘What if there was a way of meeting him without having to tell him who you really are?’
‘What do you mean?’ I ask, wondering where Tess is going with this.
‘The speed-dating event. If we get Clive to take part, we could get Nancy to be one of the participants.’
‘What do you mean?’ Nancy repeats.
‘Well, if we arranged for you and Clive to meet, we’d have to explain who you were and why you were meeting up. There’d be no way of knowing if he remembers you without spelling out who you are. As he doesn’t think you exist, that might be a bit traumatic. If you do the speed-dating event, it’s a chance for you two to fall in love all over again.’ There’s a misty quality to Tess’s expression as she makes the suggestion.
‘What do you think?’ Nancy asks me.
I run through the scenario in my head while nibbling on one of the biscuits. It melts on my tongue. If they have their speed date and there is no recognition, then nothing extra is lost. It won’t be nice for Nancy, but it will give us our answer at least. If he does recognise her, then without the need for data or statistics, won’t it be achieving the impossible? Is this the way to mend a broken heart?
‘If you’re happy to, I think we should do it,’ I say to Nancy. And before I finish the sentence I know she wants to see Clive. She wants to know if the love of her life remembers the love of his.
48
Clive
Every task that Clive carried out these days was bringing him closer to the next chapter of his life. He was going to miss Tess’s company. Her flat was a complete contrast to where Keisha lived. The front room had a Moroccan vibe with a terracotta orange on the walls and a wall hanging with tiny mirrors woven into the pattern.
Unable to settle, Clive found himself staring into one of the small circular mirrors, wishing it was some kind of porthole. While he wasn’t as low as he had been when he first landed in hospital, he was still finding it hard to appreciate that life had to go on. It was hard when life hadn’t worked out how he thought it would. He was too old to start over, even if Keisha and Tess were trying to convince him otherwise.
‘Everything okay, Clive?’ Tess asked when she caught him staring at the tiny reflection of himself.
‘Nerves are getting the better of me, I’m afraid. Is there any chance we can find someone else and I can be let off?’
Keisha joined them, appearing from the café below. ‘You look amazing, Clive.’
Clive adjusted his bow tie. He had made an effort. He was particularly pleased to have found the burgundy velvet smoking jacket. It wasn’t an everyday outfit so he’d been thrilled that this would be an opportunity to wear it, but now he felt fussy and over-dressed. ‘Is it a bit much?’
‘Not at all. It’s completely you.’
‘Can’t I just go back to being a host? I’m well past finding love.’
‘You made me do it and this whole thing was your idea. We’re not going to force you, but it really would be a