Kat Got Your Tongue Read online

  Also by Lee Weatherly

  CHILD X

  MISSING ABBY

  BREAKFAST AT SADIE'S

  For Jean and Alan,

  my wonderful in-laws

  Much love to you both

  Chapter One

  Kat

  The only thing I remember about it is this massive bang, but it didn't hurt or anything. It was more like a noise, or maybe just a sensation – I can't explain it. But then I was flying through the air, really flying, like a bird. I wasn't scared. It was great, in fact. I remember thinking, How cool, I could do this forever.

  Then everything went black. Total cliché, but that's what it did, just like someone had flipped the lights off. When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in the middle of the road. I could see blue sky and clouds, and a ring of anxious faces staring down.

  I blinked, gazing up at them. I wanted to ask someone what had happened, but it was as if I had forgotten how to talk. The asphalt felt hard and knobbly under my head, digging into my scalp. Woozily, I tried to sit up. About a dozen hands reached out and pushed me down at once.

  ‘No, no, dear!’ gasped a woman with a round face and glasses. ‘Just lie there and rest.'

  ‘That's right. The ambulance will be here shortly,’ said someone else.

  Panic kicked my stomach. Ambulance? Hang on, I'm fine! Even as I thought it, part of me knew it wasn't true. My head hurt, and so did my shoulder (quite a bit, in fact) – but I definitely wanted to be fine, so that I could get up and get away from these people. They were scaring me.

  I pushed the hands away and managed to sit up. Not a good idea. The world dipped sideways and went fuzzy for a moment. I touched my spinning head, and my hand came away red and sticky.

  It felt like snow had slithered down my spine. I started to shake as I gazed down at my red-stained hand, thinking, There's been some mistake. That can't be blood! But what else? Could it be ketchup, maybe?

  It didn't look like ketchup.

  The woman with the round face clutched my arm. I turned towards her in what felt like slow motion. ‘Please, just lie down!’ she said shrilly. ‘You're hurt, you shouldn't be moving about!'

  ‘OK, OK,’ I murmured. Hands flew out from all directions, supporting me as I sank back to the ground. It was a relief, to be honest.

  A siren wailed in the distance, coming closer. Wincing, I turned my head and saw a group of girls in school uniforms, huddled on the side of the road with tears running down their faces. I have to be dreaming this, I thought dazedly. Why were they crying when they didn't even know me? A short girl with ginger plaits stood staring at me, her face paper-white. I watched a dark-haired girl put an arm around her and whisper something in her ear.

  The woman with the round face sank onto the kerb beside me, holding her head in her hands. ‘I didn't even see her!’ she moaned. ‘She just ran out in front of me – there was nothing I could do—’ Her voice choked to a halt.

  Another woman gripped her shoulder. ‘Don't worry, I saw the whole thing if you need a witness. She ran straight out in front of you, against the lights. If you ask me—’ Her voice lowered abruptly. I was sure I heard the word drugs.

  I swallowed. Was I on drugs? Was that why everything seemed so strange?

  A screech of brakes, and then a door slammed. The crowd drew back as a man and woman in green jumpsuits knelt down beside me.

  ‘Hi, I'm Sue,’ said the woman. She had a fresh, scrubbed face, and blonde hair pulled back in a pony-tail. ‘Wow, you've got yourself a bit banged-up, haven't you? What's your name?'

  I started to tell her, and then stopped. Because where there should have been a name, there was nothing at all.

  Just – nothing.

  I licked my lips as fear rocked through me. ‘I – I'm not sure.'

  ‘Not sure?’ Sue frowned, and then she must have seen the terror in my eyes, because she patted my shoulder. ‘OK, well, don't worry about it for now. Steady – here we go. Grab the other side, Craig.'

  She and the man moved me onto a stretcher, and then Sue nodded at the group of girls. ‘Do any of you know her name?'

  They looked sideways at each other, not moving. The black-haired girl still had her arm around the ginger one.

  ‘Well?’ said Sue. ‘Come on, do you know her or not?'

  A girl with loose blonde curls cleared her throat. ‘She's called Kathy Tyler.'

  Kathy Tyler? I stared up at her, feeling dazed.

  ‘What year is she in?’ asked Craig, doing up the final snap on the stretcher.

  The blonde girl hesitated, glancing at the others. ‘Year Nine,’ she said finally. Her face was pale. ‘Will – will she be all right?'

  Sue didn't answer her. ‘The school will have her contact details,’ she said to Craig. ‘Come on, let's get going.'

  On the way to hospital, Sue gently cleaned my face up (I tried not to notice how the cloth came away bright red), took my pulse, shone a tiny light in my eyes. The siren blared around us, sucking up all the sound from everything else.

  Kathy Tyler, I kept thinking. Kathy Tyler.

  It sounded utterly bland, like someone in a cheesy movie – the American cheerleader who gets eaten by the monster. It didn't feel like it had anything to do with me at all. Had those girls really known me, or had they just made it up?

  I groaned as Sue put a bandage on my forehead. Everything hurt. My shoulder felt like someone was stabbing it.

  ‘What happened, do you know?’ asked Sue. There was a whispery noise as she tore a bit of adhesive strip off a roll. ‘That car must have thrown you a good few metres.'

  I thought of flying through the air again, and felt sick.

  ‘I don't know,’ I said. ‘This woman said I just ran out in front of her, but – but I don't know why I'd do that.’ I gripped the edge of the blanket they had draped over me, clutching it tightly. ‘Do you think I'm on drugs?'

  Sue taped the bandage down, her fingers firm and gentle. ‘I don't think so, but they'll do tests when we get to the hospital, just to make sure.'

  I licked my lips. They tasted salty. ‘But – then why can't I remember anything?'

  She frowned, glancing at my forehead. ‘It might just be the shock.'

  I swallowed, and Sue squeezed my hand. ‘Don't worry. Craig's radioed ahead to the hospital to phone the school, so your mum should be there soon.'

  My mum? It felt like I was tumbling, falling. I screwed my eyes shut, suddenly too scared to talk.

  I didn't know who my mum was.

  When we got to the hospital, Sue and Craig lifted me out of the ambulance. Like magic, the stretcher turned into a trolley-thing, with silver wheels clicking out from underneath it.

  ‘Right, here we go,’ said Sue, steering me into the building.

  I kept craning my neck, peering around – hoping like mad that I'd see a woman, know she was Mum, and then everything would come flooding back to me.

  A nurse with frizzy brown hair rushed up to us as we got inside, and she and Craig went into a huddle. I turned my head, straining to catch their conversation. ‘… stepped out into traffic and was hit by a car … head wound's minor, but she says she doesn't remember anything …'

  Sue patted my arm. ‘You'll be fine,’ she said, and then suddenly she and Craig were gone, and I was being whisked off by the nurse.

  ‘Right, let's get you sorted,’ she said cheerfully, wheeling me down a long corridor. I swallowed hard, trying not to cry. I felt so alone, like I was the only person in the world. Which was stupid, since I was completely surrounded by people – doctors and nurses streamed down the corridor like busy ants.

  ‘Is my mum here?’ I asked.

  ‘Sorry?’ The nurse leaned her head close to mine without missing a step.<
br />
  ‘My mum, is she here?’ I said louder.

  ‘Oh. I don't think so, not yet. You'll see her soon.’

  The nurse took me into an examining room, and she and a doctor poked and prodded at me for ages. First they examined my head, and then they stitched up the gash in my forehead – it took four stitches, and hurt like anything, even though they gave me a jab first. All the while, they kept asking me questions: What school did I go to? What was my mum's name?

  I don't know, I don't know, I kept saying. I felt so stupid, and the fear was like a dark cave swallowing me up. What was wrong with me? They were questions anyone should know. Finally they asked me to breathe into a tube thing, and to wee into a plastic cup.

  ‘Do you want me to help you?’ asked the nurse, and my cheeks caught fire.

  ‘No, thanks.'

  I almost wished I had said yes when I went into the bathroom. My head swam, and I had to grab hold of the disabled railing on the wall to catch my balance. I used the loo quickly, trying to hold the plastic cup so that nothing spilled. But my shoulder hurt and I couldn't hold the cup straight, so of course it did spill, and I thought I might throw up.

  Afterwards, I washed my hands about a dozen times, using frothy pink soap from a dispenser on the wall. As the warm water played over my fingers, I glanced in the mirror – and froze.

  I had never seen the girl looking back at me before.

  She had wide green eyes, and wavy brown hair that came down to her shoulders. Her chin was pointed like a cat's. Actually, her whole face looked sort of cat-like – slanty cheekbones and a small nose. Faint freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks, and a blood-stained bandage blazed across her forehead.

  I stared at her. She was wearing the same black uniform that the group of girls had been wearing. Desperately, I tried to find a memory that went back further than an hour ago. Something, anything. Think! I shouted at myself. Come on, remember!

  But there was just a black hole. I didn't know this girl. I didn't know the first thing about her.

  The nurse rapped on the door. ‘Are you OK in there?'

  I quickly dragged my eyes away from the mirror, feeling almost guilty. ‘Yes, sorry.'

  An hour or so later, I sat on a different examining table in a paper gown, trying not to shiver. My shoulder had a massive bruise on it from where I had landed, but it was just strained, as it turned out.

  ‘It'll be stiff for a while, that's all,’ said the doctor. It was another doctor, not the one who had stitched up my forehead. This one was old and paunchy, with a bushy grey beard and bristling eyebrows. ‘You'll need to exercise it. Every day. Don't let it stiffen up.'

  ‘Um – OK.’ I started to chew a fingernail, and then stopped as I realized that I hardly had any fingernails left to chew. The girl in the mirror – Kathy Tyler – hadn't left me any.

  The doctor frowned as he held a large slide up to the light. They had put me in this machine they called an MRI – a giant cylinder that took pictures of my brain. It was like being swallowed up by a humming, pulsing alien.

  ‘Now then’ – he put the slide down and gave me a hard look – ‘about your head injury—'

  He broke off as a nurse stuck her head round the door. ‘Doctor, Miss Yates is here.'

  His eyebrows drew together. ‘Miss Yates?’

  ‘Kathy's mum.'

  I swallowed hard. Suddenly my throat felt two sizes too small. Miss Yates, when I was Tyler. What did that mean? Was she divorced from my dad – whoever he was? Had she remarried? Who was she?

  ‘Oh, of course.’ The doctor glanced at me. ‘I'll be back in a minute; we just need to let your mother know what's going on.'

  I managed a nod, and he left the room. I clenched the sides of the examining table. It felt like I'd spin away into space if I didn't hang on. Oh, please let it be OK, I thought. Please let my mum make everything all right. And yes, maybe that was a babyish thing to wish for, but I seriously didn't care at that point.

  A few minutes later the door opened again, and the doctor came back. There was a slim dark-haired woman with him. She had the same pointed chin I had seen in the mirror, but her nose was longer, and she didn't have freckles.

  She rushed straight over to me. ‘Kathy! Sweetie, are you all right?’ She started to give me a hug, and then stopped, pulling back anxiously. ‘Wait, is this your bad arm? Oh, you poor love – what happened?'

  I stared at her, taking in her face. Mum. This was my mum. But it was like Kathy Tyler. It didn't feel as if she had anything to do with me.

  ‘Kathy?’ said the woman. She frowned, touching my hair. ‘Kathy, what's wrong?'

  I swallowed, and shook my head. I couldn't speak.

  She looked at the doctor, worry etched across her face. ‘You said she was confused. What's wrong with her?'

  He picked up the slide from the MRI again, holding it to the light. ‘Well, we don't really know. Her drug test was clear, so even though there's no obvious sign of trauma to the skull, we did an MRI scan, which came out fine as well. That gash on her forehead looks a lot worse than it is – it's only shallow.'

  My heart thudded against my ribs. ‘Then why can't I remember anything?’ I burst out.

  The doctor's bald patch shone in the harsh light as he squinted at me. ‘Well … maybe you can tell us. Is anything bothering you at school? A problem with your friends, maybe?'

  Friends. Another black hole. I remembered the girls beside the road. Were they my friends? They hadn't acted like it.

  ‘I don't know,’ I said, hugging my elbow to my side. ‘I don't remember anything about school, or – or anything.'

  The woman – my mother – took my hand, leaning towards me. ‘But, Kathy, you remember me, don't you?'

  I shook my head. I couldn't look at her. ‘No.’

  ‘You … don't remember me?’ Her brown eyes widened as she gripped my hand, and suddenly I knew that she couldn't do anything at all to make it better. I had been such a stupid baby to even hope she could.

  Trying not to cry, I pulled my hand away. Her fingernails were digging into my skin, and it hurt. She pressed her hand to her mouth.

  ‘Kathy, you don't—’

  ’ No! No. I don't.'

  Silence. I could feel her staring at me, her mouth loose and pleading. I glared down at my feet, feeling awful. But I didn't know her. What was I supposed to say?

  The doctor glanced at the scan again. ‘Well, we'll keep you here for a day or two, just for observation,’ he said grudgingly. ‘And meanwhile, a psychiatrist will have a little chat with you.'

  His voice turned falsely jolly with that last bit, like, Ho-ho, you're just so going to enjoy this.

  Great, I thought as tears swam up into my eyes. Now I was mad, on top of having a black hole for a memory.

  The children's ward had stars on the ceiling and Rupert the Bear wallpaper, which just made everything slightly worse, somehow. The nurse handed me a cotton gown instead of the paper one. ‘Here, I'll help you change,’ she said.

  Flames flew up my cheeks. ‘I can do it.'

  The nurse smiled. ‘Well, obviously you usually can, but you might find it difficult just now, with your shoulder so stiff.'

  I hesitated, because of course she was right. Maybe my shoulder was only strained, but it felt like an anvil had been dropped on it. I could hardly move my left arm.

  ‘I'll help you,’ offered my mother softly. She stood to one side with her arms crossed over her chest, hugging herself.

  Our eyes met, and I looked quickly away.

  ‘No, um – that's OK, she can help.’ I motioned to the nurse, and let out a breath when she rattled the curtain shut around the bed, closing my mother out. I couldn't help it. I knew logically that this was my mum, but it felt like some stranger off the street had offered to help me change. At least with the nurse, it was her job.

  After the nurse had left, my mother sat beside my bed, trying to smile. ‘Do you want the curtain open or closed?'

  ‘Closed.
’ Part of me wanted it open – I could hear a TV going somewhere in the ward – but I couldn't bear the thought of talking to anyone. What if someone asked what was wrong with me?

  My mother sat perched on the edge of her seat. ‘I'm sure this is just temporary.’ She fiddled with a silver ring on her finger. ‘The doctor thinks it might be the shock of the accident, or – or something like that.'

  I nodded, looking down at my hands. The nails really were in awful shape. Kathy hadn't just bitten them all off, she had picked at the hangnails until they were ragged and raw.

  No, correction: I had picked at them. Me.

  My mother kept smiling nervously, pushing her short dark hair back with one hand. ‘It's so lucky that you weren't really badly hurt – that car must have been going quite fast when it hit you.'

  ‘What happened?’ I asked. ‘How did it hit me?’

  She shook her head. ‘I spoke to the woman driving the car, and she doesn't know; you just ran out in front of her. She thinks maybe you were trying to cross against the light.'

  ‘Oh,’ I said. Crossing against the light? Had I really been that stupid?

  My mother brushed my hair back with cool fingers. ‘The important thing is that you're OK.’ She tried to smile. ‘You'll get your memory back soon.'

  I took in her face. There couldn't be a mistake – she was obviously convinced that she was my mother, and so was everyone else. But I just didn't feel it. I didn't feel anything for her.

  I cleared my throat. ‘Um … listen. I don't – I don't know anything about myself. Or you. Could you—?'

  The curtain around the bed swept open. A plump middle-aged woman with bright honey-coloured hair stood there, beaming at us. ‘Hello, I'm Doctor Perrin. I'm here to talk to Kathy.'

  ‘Oh.’ My mother looked at me. ‘Should I leave?’

  Dr Perrin smiled, showing all her teeth. ‘Yes, if you don't mind. We'll probably be about an hour or so.'

  My mother stood up. Her hands hung helplessly at her sides. ‘Well, I suppose I'll pop home for a bit, then, and come back around two.'

  Home. ‘Where are we?’ I asked, fingering the edge of the sheet. ‘What town, I mean?'