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says.
    ‘Oh,’ I say. ‘How long, then?’
    His eyes flick around again. I get a weird mental image of a lizard with a long tongue, lassoing flies. He hesitates for ages before speaking. ‘You’ve been here for twelve
years.’

 

    T he room tips sideways. The beardy male nurse quickly shoves a cardboard bowl under my chin. I gag but nothing comes up. A pounding in my head
seems to echo around the walls.
    ‘Twelve years ?’
    Why would he say something so stupid and wrong ?
    Both men stare back at me, their expressions blank.
    ‘Twelve years?’ I say again, more quietly this time. ‘Are you mad? Is this a joke?’
    Cavendish crosses one leg over the other. ‘I know it’s difficult to absorb right now. You were brought here, injured, as a small boy,’ he says. ‘You’d been in a car
accident.’ He pauses. Your injuries were very serious. You almost died.’
    I think my jaw actually drops open.
    Cavendish continues. ‘We decided to attempt an experimental neurological procedure.’ Pause. ‘Brain surgery.’ Pause. ‘And it saved your life. But there were some
unexpected effects.’
    ‘What do you mean, unexpected effects ?’
    He exchanges glances with the other man again. He talks like he has the worst constipation ever. Stop, start, strain; stop, start, strain.
    ‘Well . . . technically you were in a coma,’ says Cavendish, ‘but you could move freely. All tests showed your brain activity was strong but you were living in a world inside
your own mind.’
    It’s not raining pink frogs but it might as well be for all the sense he’s making.
    ‘What, you mean . . . I was dreaming?’
    ‘No, not dreaming,’ he says, leaning forward. ‘Brain scans showed you were in a coma. Coma patients may twitch or have muscle spasms, but they are unable to use their limbs.
You were the first ever to actually get up and move around.’
    ‘But I’ve been here the whole time? I was like that for years and years? Why didn’t anyone take me home? What about my parents . . . family?’
    Silence. Then . . . ‘We’ve never been able to trace anyone. Sorry. You have no living family that we’re aware of.’
    No. That can’t be true. There must be someone who cares about me. Mustn’t there?
    A big silence fills the room, pushing all the oxygen out. There’s too much to ask. I can’t make the space for the questions in my head, let alone get them out properly. ‘Why did I wake up then?’ I squeeze my nails into my palms to stop myself from freaking out.
    Cavendish clears his throat. ‘We’re not sure exactly why it happened now. You’ve been emerging for the last week but all we could do was watch and wait.’
    I don’t know why, but a crazy laugh barks from my mouth and I have to squeeze my fists even tighter. My legs are trembling so hard my knees are bouncing up and down. All I want to do is
get up and run. Anywhere. Somewhere this isn’t happening any more.
    ‘So, what?’ I say through gritted teeth. ‘I’ve just knocked about in this room like some kind of zombie for twelve years? That’s nuts. You’re nuts!’
    ‘It wasn’t exactly like that,’ says Cavendish in that oily, patient voice. ‘You were moving about inside your own world. We’ve watched and studied you and carried
out constant tests. The work here has helped us to make huge advances in neurology. But you haven’t been lying in bed all that time, if that’s what you’re thinking. Here,
I’ll show you.’
    Cavendish gestures to Beardy, who walks over to the far wall and presses a button. There’s a whirring sound and the walls splits into two parts, revealing a kind of glass pod hanging from
the ceiling like a giant egg. I swing my legs round to the side of the bed. Beardy goes to stop me but Cavendish puts a hand on his arm and shakes his head warningly. I walk a bit unsteadily over
to the pod. I’ve never seen it before, but I know it all the same. I lean my forehead against the cool glass and look inside. I can