Chasing Freedom Home (Malinding) Read Online Free PDF Page B

could not. Perhaps she was dreaming, but if this was the dream how would she know when she was awake? Her mother was there; all the time she hovered, adjusting pillows, offering glasses of water and these nice pills the doctor ordered. From time to time her father would appear in the doorway to her room; standing, fidgeting, trying to communicate with her. Days and nights crawled or scurried by. Karen helped her to the toilet, mother caring for child. Weight had been lost, too much weight. A doctor came to stare at her; she shrank from his touch. More pills were prescribed; more glasses of water were sipped and dribbled onto her nightdress. A beautiful summer day passed un-noticed. Slowly, boredom emerged from indifference.  A therapist convinced her that there had been an accident and she had been hurt, unconscious for a long period, her memory had been lost and her parents, such lovely people, had feared she might die. There would be false memories, that was only to be expected. Her dreams of a child? False also – she was still a virgin. But there was hope, of course, there was always hope. A lovely young woman like her? Sure to fall in love and live happily ever after. Her parents would give her the best possible care and she was still young; of course the right man would come along. Naturally, it was just a matter of time. Rest, that was what she needed now, rest and care. And sleep. Lots of sleep and lovely dreams. The drugs helped, of course they did. The dreams still troubled her.
    Safe in her father’s desk, securely locked away, was the birth certificate of her son. Hopefully, her parents thought, never to see light of day. They were convinced their daughter had no memory of that terrible day when they had had to change her world. It turned out to be a lovely summer. Jane sat, in the shade, on the sun lounger and learned to do very little. Karen tended to her every need, secretly alarmed that her daughter showed all the get up and go of a brick. Her father stared at her from the lounge, relieved that at least his only child was free of the threat of disgrace. It would have been a risk to a man in his position to have a mixed race grandchild and a daughter living with an African immigrant. Now, although the price paid was a daughter with the apparent mental capacity of a butterfly he could breathe a sigh of relief and hold his head high as he stalked the corridors of power. It had been a close thing though. The Watchers were everywhere. Would it be enough that she looked good in a bikini? Her conversation was limited, but she had a nice laugh. She could smile at most things. Karen coached her to a standard where she could be trusted to pour a drink and hand round plates of nibbles. Maybe in time some older man, desirous of appearing younger and virile, would, for the sake of a good dowry, marry the girl and father children on her? Given time, all things might be possible. He turned from the window and activated his laptop.
    He sent an email: Girl still has memories; suggest drug increase? He waited for a reply.
    In her bedroom his wife took out a treasured folder of documents, normally hidden under the mattress. Certificates of birth, of baptism, of education. A degree, Second Class Honours in PPE from an Oxford college. A few photographs, childhood holidays and friends. Two official pictures, Mother and father and daughter, and daughter with boyfriend, at a Degree Ceremony. Everybody was smiling. She failed to recognise the image of her daughter as one and the same person who languished on the patio at the back of the house.
     
     
     
     

 
    8
     
    A night passed, uninterrupted by any activity other than their own. Morning came and found them all awake, waiting. Their routine had been disrupted; there were no guards to order them, to drag them out to feed or wash or defecate. They were naked. They had become accustomed to being chained together; there was safety perhaps, in numbers. They were, in a way, a