Mary Baker's Story

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Mary Baker's Story

 

from Chat Magazine, 1997

Story by Fiona Wright

 

'I'm 28!' ... 'No, you're not - you're 44!'

 

Mary couldn't understand it. What were all these odd clothes in the shops? And

what happened to Wagon Wheels?

 

Mary Baker turned over in bed and reached across to the table for her watch. But

it wasn't there. 'That's funny,' she thought, scrabbling around in the dim

morning light. 'I always leave it here.' She sat up and rubbed her eyes.

Everything around her looked so strange...

 

As she stared around the room, she realised she didn't recognise it at all. It

had flower wallpaper and a pink carpet. The dressing table did look vaguely

familiar, but there were strange perfume bottles on the top of it. 'Where on

earth am I?' she thought, feeling panicky.

 

Pulling back the sheets, she stumbled to her feet and looked out of the window.

She recognised the garden, but it looked so overgrown, and there were strange

shrubs and trees in it.

 

Just then, the bedroom door opened. Her husband, Ian, walked in. 'Where are

we...?' Mary began, turning round. Then her voice trailed away as she saw his

face. There were lines round his eyes and mouth, and his lovely black hair was

grey at the sides.

 

'What's happened to you?' Mary spluttered. 'You look so... well, old.'

 

'Thanks very much,' Ian retorted, laughing.

 

'But you do,' Mary insisted, hardly able to believe her eyes. 'You weren't that

wrinkly yesterday. It's happened overnight.'

 

Ian picked up a hand mirror from the dressing table and gave it to her. 'You're

no spring chicken either,' he grinned. Mary looked at her reflection. The woman

staring back looked about 45, with greying hair, and crow's feet round her eyes.

Frozen with shock, Mary sank onto the bed.

 

'It's me,' she said, horrified. 'I look dreadful.'

 

Ian looked concerned. 'What's the matter, love?' he said. 'Why are you acting

like this?'

 

'Everything looks so strange and awful,' said Mary, starting to cry. 'I don't

know what's happening.' Ian put his arm round her.

 

Perhaps it's your tablets,' he comforted. 'Maybe it would be a good idea if you

went to see the doctor, love.'

 

'What tablets?' Mary asked, puzzled.

 

'Your Valium,' Ian said gently. 'I know you haven't taken it for a while, but

the doctor did warn it'd take time to leave your system.'

 

'What are you talking about?' Mary said irritably. 'I haven't taken any pills.

I'm just confused. I don't recognise anything.' Ian tried to calm her.

 

'You've been taking Valium since you were 28,' he said. 'Nearly 16 years ago.'

 

Mary stared at him. 'Don't be ridiculous,' she laughed hollowly. 'I am 28.'

 

'Mary, you're 44 years old,' Ian said softly. 'You've been on Valium for your

panic attacks but you've stopped taking it now.'

 

Mary couldn't stop shivering as she tried to take in what Ian told her. It was

like some sort of horrific dream.

 

The last thing that she could remember clearly was being 28-years-old, and

working as an assistant in a local dress shop. The year was 1973 and she'd

married Ian, 31, the year before. She was certain... so how could another 16

years have gone by?

 

She started to feel hot and dizzy. She pushed Ian away and ran towards the door.

'It can't be right, it can't be,' she wept.

 

The hall looked more familiar. She recognised the red carpet, and the Victorian

print Ian had given her for Christmas in 1972. She opened the door to the study.

There was her old wooden desk and filing system.

 

'Thank God,' she breathed. She pulled all her files out and spread them on the

floor. There must be some clues in these.

 

'My pay slips should sort this out,' she muttered, hunting feverishly through

her mail. But the slips stopped at 1980. The date on a letter from a friend made

her catch her breath - 1988.

 

Ian walked in to find her sobbing brokenly 'It's not 1988, is it, Ian?' she

begged him. " Tell me it isn't, please?'

 

Ian led her into the living room. He carefully explained what date it was, where

they lived in Market Harborough, Leicestershire, and how they'd just come back

from their holiday in Bournemouth.

 

'You'd better tell me everything,' said Mary, trembling. 'Because I hardly

remember any of it.'

 

Long into the evening, Ian told her all about their friends and relatives. He

explained that she'd started taking Valium in 1973, to control her panic

attacks. They'd got so bad, she'd had to give up work. In 1980 they'd moved from

their home in Burton Overy, Leicestershire, to the seaside in Cliftonville,

Kent, and started a bed-and-breakfast business. But Mary couldn't cope and

they'd moved back to Leicestershire, this time to Market Harborough.

 

Mary shook her head, speechless. So have I been asleep all this time?' she asked

Ian in astonishment.

 

'No, you've been just normal,' Ian shrugged. 'You were always a bit vague and

forgetful, but I put it down to the Valium. Now it looks like you've lost your

memory completely which is why I want you to go to the doctor.'

 

Mary went the following day. The doctor was surprised.

 

'Memory loss can be a side effect of Valium,' he told her. 'But it's temporary.

I haven't known a reaction as bad as this before.'

 

Mary took a taxi back home in case she got lost. When she got there, she decided

to play detective.

 

'I have to find out who I am,' she sighed. She found all her old photo albums

and a box of letters. Gradually, with Ian's help, she put her life back together

again.

 

One afternoon, Ian took her round the shops. Mary just couldn't believe it. The

clothes in the shops looked so odd to her. 'I wouldn't be seen dead in those!'

Mary giggled, pointing to a pair of leggings.

 

She picked up a blouse. 'And look at these!' she laughed, squeezing its shoulder

pads.

 

Mary even noticed that there were less crisps in a packet and Wagon Wheel

biscuits were smaller! And someone called Michael Jackson was on posters

everywhere...

 

When she watched TV, she was shocked at the sex and violence. 'They can't put

that on at this hour, I'm going to complain,' she said, as she and Ian watched

Fatal Attraction.

 

One day, a familiar-looking woman came to call. 'Mary, it's Ros,' she said,

smiling.

 

'Ros Smith,' Mary murmured. Ros was a good friend but now she looked so old.

Mary just stopped herself from saying so.

 

'Ian said you'd had a few problems, so I thought I'd pop round for a chat,' Ros

said.

 

They chatted for hours as she filled Mary in on all that had happened over the

years. I've missed so much,' Mary sighed. 'Don't worry,' Ros patted her hand.

'We'll help you make up for lost time, you'll see.'

 

Mary found she couldn't recall simple things, like how to make an omelette.

She'd forgotten Ian's favourite foods, music and films.

 

When she tried to write, she found she couldn't even remember simple English.

Slowly and painfully, with the support of friends and family, she began to learn

everything again. She taught herself English grammar from books and did an Open

University course. She went to the library every day and read old newspapers to

find anything to jog her memory. Ian patiently helped her relearn all her

friends' names, and she even managed to get a part-time job in a dress shop.

 

Today, scraps of her memory have come back to her. 'It's like a huge jigsaw,'

Mary, now 52, says. 'I have flashbacks from the past. I can remember parts of

the house in Cliftonville, and people and places we used to visit.

 

'It's like I've been living in a fog for 16 years that has suddenly cleared. But

I think the important thing now is not to waste any more time. I want to put all

this behind me and make the most of life.'

 

 

 

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