I Found You Read Free

he’s sitting on a pile of rope. His face is turned up to the sky and his eyes are closed and something inside Alice aches when she looks at him. Of course he may be mad. He may be dangerous. But she thinks of his sad amber-brown eyes and the softness of his voice when he asked her where he was. And she is here in her home full of people, a pile of logs burning in the fireplace, warm and dry and safe. She can’t be here knowing that he is there.
    She makes him a cup of tea, pours it into a flask, tells the big ones to keep an eye on Romaine and goes to him.
     
    ‘Here,’ she says, passing him the flask.
    He takes it from her and smiles.
    ‘I thought I told you to go indoors.’
    ‘I remember that,’ he says.
    ‘Good,’ she says. ‘But I see you didn’t take my advice.’
    ‘I can’t go indoors.’
    ‘Are you homeless?’
    He nods. Then shakes his head. Then says, ‘I think so. I don’t know.’
    ‘You don’t know?’ Alice laughs softly. ‘How long have you been sitting out here?’
    ‘I got here last night.’
    ‘Where did you come from?’
    He turns and looks at her. His eyes are wide and fearful. ‘I have no idea.’
    Alice pulls away slightly. Now she’s starting to regret coming down here. Getting involved , as Derry said. ‘Seriously?’ she says.
    He pushes his damp hair off his forehead and sighs. ‘Seriously.’ Then he pours himself a cup of tea and holds it aloft. ‘Cheers,’ he says. ‘You’re very kind.’
    Alice stares out towards the sea. She’s not sure how to respond. Half of her wants to get back indoors to the warm; the other feels as though she needs to play this out a bit longer. She asks him another question: ‘What’s your name?’
    ‘I think’, he says, gazing into his tea, ‘that I have lost my memory. I mean’ – he turns to her suddenly – ‘that makes sense, doesn’t it? It’s the only thing that makes sense. Because I don’t know what my name is.And I must have a name. Everyone has a name. Don’t they?’
    Alice nods.
    ‘And I don’t know why I’m here or how I got here. And the more I think about it the more I think I’ve lost my memory.’
    ‘Ah,’ says Alice. ‘Yes. That makes sense. Do you . . . Are you injured?’ She points at his head.
    He runs a hand over his skull for a moment and then looks at her. ‘No,’ he says. ‘It doesn’t look like it.’
    ‘Have you ever lost your memory before?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ he says, so ingenuously that they both laugh.
    ‘You know you’re in the north, don’t you?’ she asks.
    ‘No,’ he says. ‘I didn’t know that.’
    ‘And you have a southern accent. Is that where you come from?’
    He shrugs. ‘I guess so.’
    ‘Jesus,’ says Alice, ‘this is crazy. I assume you’ve checked all your pockets.’
    ‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘I found some stuff. Didn’t know what to make of any of it though.’
    ‘Have you still got it?’
    ‘Yes.’ He leans to one side. ‘It’s here.’ He pulls a handful of wet paper from his back pocket. ‘Oh.’
    Alice stares at the mulch and then into the darkening sky. She pulls her hands down her face and exhales. ‘Right,’ she says. ‘I must be mad. Well, actually, I am mad.But I have a studio room in my back yard. I usually rent it out but it’s empty right now. Why don’t you come and spend a night there? We’ll dry out these bits of paper, then maybe tomorrow we can start putting you together? Yes?’
    He turns and stares at her disbelievingly. ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘Yes, please.’
    ‘I have to warn you,’ she says, getting to her feet, ‘I live in chaos. I have three very loud, rude children and three untrained dogs and my house is a mess. So don’t come with me expecting a sanctuary. It’s far from it.’
    He nods. ‘Honestly,’ he says. ‘Whatever. I really don’t mind. I’m just so grateful. I can’t believe how kind you’re being.’
    ‘No,’ says Alice, leading the wet stranger up the stone steps and towards her cottage,