Page 115 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 5-8

‘Of course, but we—’

‘I will arrange a second opinion. Could you make yourself available to consult tomorrow morning?’

The doctor blinked, his faintly patronising air evaporating. Feeling very much less in charge, he found himself agreeing without demur to the arrangements being made.

‘Try not to worry. We’ll give her something to help her sleep, and in the morning the world will seem a much less confusing place.’

After Joaquin had spoken to Ruth, arranged transport for her home, as she was clearly too upset to drive, and agreed to her suggestion that he spend the night at the manor, he contacted his PA, who had clearly heard the news.

‘Congratulations! Is Clemmie going to be okay?’

Even though they had only ever spoken on the phone, his PA and Clemmie were on first name terms.

‘We are not engaged.’ He saw no reason to go into details.

‘Oh,’ his PA said, sounding disappointed. Then, more professionally, ‘Do you want me to put out a press release to that effect?’

‘No.’

Then he listed what he did want her to do, which was to arrange a team of consultants in the relevant specialities to provide second opinions, no later than tomorrow morning.

‘And I need a car, and I need a fresh set of clothes here. Now. You can send the rest straight to Maplehurst. Oh, and also I’ll need a new laptop. Anything else... I’ll send the details with you.’

Leaving the practicalities in her capable hands, he made his way back to Clemmie’s room. The light above her bed illuminated her sleeping face, highlighting the bruises, her blood-matted hair lying on the white pillow.

The palette of clashing emotions he felt as he stared down at her was as complex and confused as the multi-coloured bruise on her cheek.

It could have been worse, he told himself, not allowing himself to think of how much worse.

He didn’t make it to the manor until three a.m., having fallen asleep in the chair beside Clemmie’s bed. He fell on to the bed fully clothed and got a couple of hours’ sleep.

It would have been too much to say he awoke refreshed, but a shower and a shave did make him feel slightly more like part of the human race.

He was anxious to be gone. With luck, Clemmie would have got her memory back. If not he would fill in the blanks. Hopefully she would see the funny side of it. Most women wouldn’t—but then Clemmie was not most women.

He drank his coffee while choosing a clean set of clothes from the selection that had arrived before him. He hadn’t expected Ruth to be ready, and she wasn’t, but she had packed some of the clothes Clemmie kept at the gatehouse and they were in the hallway.

He explained to Ruth that a car and a driver for her use for as long as she needed would be arriving within the hour and then set off for the hospital.

His plan to get to Clemmie was thrown off course from the outset. When he arrived, the team of consultants ready to give second opinions were already on the job. He was met as he entered the building and directed to the medical director’s office, where the consultant from the previous day had been joined by the three experts his PA had managed to get on site.

As he took a seat they explained that the results of the tests were in and they had all spent two hours with Clemmie. Apparently there was now a diagnosis.

Joaquin gave his attention to their individual contributions, which appeared to overlap.

There was a consensus.

Clemmie, aside from some bruising, was suffering only from mild concussion and amnesia.

‘Temporary?’ he asked.

On this there was no consensus—just a lot of options. He found the ambiguity frustrating.

‘How can she have amnesia?’ he asked, directing his question to the group and not just one individual. ‘She knows who I am, and when she first woke up it seemed as though she knew she had been in an accident. Are you saying that now she doesn’t? How is that possible?’

One of the experts responded. ‘The brain, Mr Perez, has a way of protecting itself from painful trauma—physical and emotional—that it is not ready to deal with. Retrograde amnesia is often a protective mechanism. It would appear from our examination that she has no memory of the last six weeks.’

‘Whatdoesshe remember?’

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