Remember Me? Read Online Free PDF Page B

2007, to be honest.
    “Would you like a magazine?” Nicole asks. “I’m just going to sort you out some breakfast.” She disappears out of the door, then returns and hands me a copy of
Hello!
I run my eyes down the headlines—and feel a jolt of shock.
    “‘Jennifer Aniston and Her New Man.’” I read the words aloud uncertainly. “What new man? Why would she need a new man?”
    “Oh yes.” Nicole follows my gaze, unconcerned. “You know she split up from Brad Pitt?”
    “Jennifer and Brad
split
?” I stare up at her, aghast. “You can’t be serious! They can’t have done!”
    “He went off with Angelina Jolie. They’ve got a daughter.”
    “No!”
I wail. “But Jen and Brad were so perfect together! They looked so good, and they had that lovely wedding picture and everything….”
    “They’re divorced now.” Nicole shrugs, like it’s no big deal.
    I can’t get over this. Jennifer and Brad are divorced. The world is a different place.
    “Everyone’s pretty much got used to it.” Nicole pats my shoulder soothingly. “I’ll get you some breakfast. Would you like full English, continental, or fruit basket? Or all three?”
    “Um…continental, please. Thanks very much.” I open the magazine, then put it down again. “Hang on. Fruit basket? Did the NHS suddenly get a load of money or something?”
    “This isn’t NHS.” She smiles. “You’re in the private wing.”
    Private?
I can’t afford to go private.
    “I’ll just refresh your tea…” She picks up the smart china pot and starts to pour.
    “Stop!” I exclaim in panic. I can’t have any more tea. It probably costs fifty quid a cup.
    “Something wrong?” Nicole says in surprise.
    “I can’t afford all this,” I say in an embarrassed rush. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m in this posh room. I should have been taken to an NHS hospital. I’m happy to move…”
    “It’s all covered by your private health insurance,” she says. “Don’t worry.”
    “Oh,” I say, taken aback. “Oh, right.”
    I took out private health insurance? Well, of course I did. I’m twenty-eight now. I’m sensible.
    I’m twenty-eight years old.
    It hits me right in the stomach, as though for the first time. I’m a different person. I’m not me anymore.
    I mean, obviously I’m still
me
. But I’m twenty-eight-year-old me. Whoever the hell that is. I peer at my twenty-eight-year-old hand as though for clues. Someone who can afford private health insurance, obviously, and gets a really good manicure, and…
    Wait a minute. Slowly I turn my head and focus again on the glossy Louis Vuitton.
    No. It’s not possible. This zillion-pound, designer, movie-star-type bag couldn’t really be—
    “Nicole?” I swallow, trying to sound nonchalant. “D’you think…Is that bag…
mine
?”
    “Should be.” Nicole nods. “I’ll just check for you…” She opens the bag, pulls out a matching Louis Vuitton wallet, and snaps it open. “Yes, it’s yours.” She turns the wallet around to display a platinum American Express card with
Lexi Smart
printed across it.
    My brain is short-circuiting as I stare at the embossed letters. That’s my platinum credit card. This is my bag.
    “But these bags cost, like…a thousand quid.” My voice is strangled.
    “I know they do.” Nicole suddenly laughs. “Go on, relax. It’s yours!”
    Gingerly I stroke the handle, hardly daring to touch it. I can’t believe this belongs to me. I mean…where did I
get
it? Am I earning loads of money or something?
    “So, I was really in a car crash?” I look up, suddenly wanting to know everything about myself, all at once. “I was really driving? In a
Mercedes
?”
    “Apparently.” She takes in my expression of disbelief. “Didn’t you have a Mercedes in 2004, then?”
    “Are you joking? I can’t even drive!”
    When did I learn to drive? When did I suddenly start to afford designer handbags and Mercedes cars, for God’s sake?
    “Look in your bag,”