Before I Go to Sleep Read Online Free PDF

you might think as they have such a small window of memory. But as there are some things that you can remember for the whole day, I didn’t see why you shouldn’t jot down some notes in a book every evening. I thought it might help you to maintain a thread of memory from one day to the next. Plus I felt that memory might be like a muscle, something that can be strengthened through exercise.’
    ‘And you’ve been reading it, as we’ve been going along?’
    ‘No,’ he says. ‘You’ve been writing it in private.’
    ‘But how—?’ I begin, and then say, ‘Ben’s been reminding me to write in it?’
    He shakes his head. ‘I suggested that you keep it secret,’ he says. ‘You’ve been hiding it, at home. I’ve been calling you to tell you where it’s hidden.’
    ‘Every day?’
    ‘Yes. More or less.’
    ‘Not Ben?’
    He pauses, then says, ‘No. Ben hasn’t read it.’
    I wonder why not, what it might contain that I do not want my husband to see. What secrets might I have? Secrets I don’t even know myself.
    ‘But you’ve read it?’
    ‘You left it with me a few days ago,’ he says. ‘You said you wanted me to read it. That it was time.’
    I look at the book. I am excited. A journal. A link back to a lost past, albeit only recent.
    ‘Have you read it all?’
    ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘Most of it. I think I’ve read everything important, anyway.’ He pauses and looks away from me, scratching the back of his neck. Embarrassed, I think. I wonder if he is telling me the truth, what the book contains. He drains the last of his mug of coffee, and says, ‘I didn’t force you to let me see it. I want you to know that.’
    I nod, and finish the rest of my drink in silence, flicking through the pages of the book as I do so. On the inside of the front cover is a list of dates. ‘What are these?’ I say.
    ‘They’re the dates we’ve been meeting,’ he says. ‘As well as the ones we had planned. We’ve been arranging them as we go along. I’ve been calling to remind you, asking you to look in your journal.’
    I think of the yellow note tucked between the pages of my diary today. ‘But today?’
    ‘Today I had your journal,’ he says. ‘So we wrote a note instead.’
    I nod, and look through the rest of the book. It is filled with a dense handwriting that I don’t recognize. Page after page. Days and days of work.
    I wonder how I found the time, but then think of the board in the kitchen and the answer is obvious; I have had nothing else to do.
    I put it back on the table. A young man wearing jeans and a T-shirt comes in and glances over to where we sit, before ordering a drink and settling at a table with the newspaper. He doesn’t look up at me again, and the twenty-year-old me is upset. I feel as though I am invisible.
    ‘Shall we go?’ I say.
    We walk back the way we had come. The sky has clouded over and a thin mist hangs in the air. The ground feels soggy underfoot; it feels like walking on quicksand. On the playground I see a roundabout, turning slowly even though no one is riding it.
    ‘We don’t normally meet here?’ I say, when we reach the road. ‘In the café, I mean?’
    ‘No. No, we normally meet in my office. We do exercises. Tests and things.’
    ‘So why here today?’
    ‘I really just wanted to give you your book back,’ he says. ‘I was worried about you not having it.’
    ‘I’ve come to rely on it?’ I say.
    ‘In a way, yes.’
    We cross the road, and walk back down to the house I share with Ben. I can see Dr Nash’s car, still parked where he left it, the tiny garden outside our window, the short path and neat flower beds. I still can’t quite believe this is the place where I live.
    ‘Do you want to come in?’ I say. ‘Another drink?’
    He shakes his head. ‘No. No, I won’t, thanks. I have to get going. Julie and I have plans this evening.’
    He stands for a moment, looking at me. I notice his hair, cut short, neatly parted, and the way his shirt