Read Online His Kidnapper's Shoes by Maggie James - Free Book Online Page B

bedtime stories by my dad.’
    ‘How old were you?’
    ‘Jeez, I’m not sure. I guess I can remember back as far as…three? Four? Hard to say.’
    ‘You want me to tell you what my first memories are?’
    ‘Well, yes, if this is all part of telling me what the issue is between you and your mother.’
    ‘I remember being somewhere else.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘It’s all quite vague, Katie. These are my earliest memories, as I told you. They’re real, though. They might be indistinct, but they’re genuine all right. I remember…’ He shut his eyes, willing his mind back twenty-two years. ‘Someone else, other than my mum, taking care of me. A teenager, I think. She used to toss me a ball to catch. She had dark hair. Definitely not Mum. She’s blonde, as I told you. There was another woman too. Older. I don’t really remember much about her. I can see her, beside my bed at night. She’d sit there after tucking me in. Maybe she was telling me bedtime stories. I don’t recall.’
    Katie's expression was unfathomable. ‘Dan… these memories…they might not be what you think. Perhaps the young girl was a babysitter who helped your mum out. The other woman – could be the same thing. Some friend or relative doing your mum a favour. You said she was close to her grandmother. It might be her you remember sitting by your bed.’
    ‘No.’ He was damn sure of that. ‘She wasn’t anywhere near as old as Mum’s grandmother would have been. There was no one else to help her, as I told you. She was an only child and she’s never talked about any aunts, cousins, any other female relatives. The older woman …she was there more than the occasional night, Katie. It happened more frequently than a friend doing Mum a favour once in a while.’
    ‘Did you ask your mother about all this?’
    ‘Yes. I asked several times, when I was still very young, until I realised she wasn’t going to tell me anything different. Up until the age of about seven, I suppose. I remember she’d already married my stepfather the last time I asked.’
    ‘What did she say?’
    ‘The same thing every time. She always said I was imagining things and laughed it off. She’d tell me I was her beautiful boy, how precious I was, how much she loved me. I always felt guilty for asking.’
    ‘Guilt. Every mother’s favourite trick.’ Katie laughed.
    ‘Thing is, I don’t remember who these women are, but I’m not imagining them, Katie. They’re real, although it’s foggy as hell in my mind. They played some role in my life, before Mum came along. See, that’s the other thing. Every time I remember the girl with dark hair…the woman beside my bed…Mum doesn’t figure in those memories at all. She comes along later. I know I was only a tiny kid at the time. However, I’m sure, as sure as I’ve ever been of anything. Mum wasn’t around then. That’s what I’ve never been able to understand.’
    ‘Dan…I’m not denying what you say. Human memory can be weird and not always reliable, though. Especially when you think how young you were. Children don’t usually remember anything before the ages of three or four, and boys recall less than girls do. Perhaps your mum told you some story which somehow got translated in your mind…’
    ‘No.’ He realised he’d spoken too sharply. ‘That’s not how it was.’
    ‘Hey.’ She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. ‘I’m sorry, Dan. I’m not pooh-poohing what you’re telling me. I’m simply saying our memories can be flaky things. You've probably heard about false memory syndrome, where people recall all sorts of stuff that never actually happened.’
    ‘I’m certain of what I remember, Katie. Those women are real. I just don’t have any idea who they are.’
    ‘You thought about asking your mother again? Now you’re an adult?’
    ‘No. I don’t think she’d tell me anything different. I guess both my stepfather and I, we’ve always steered clear of