It took him a moment to work out how to open the cupboard in his bedside table without pulling out the cannula in the back of his hand nor, he was disturbed to find, the catheter. His clothes were neatly folded and filled the small space, though he found his personal belongings in the drawer above.
He pulled out his wallet and checked the contents. A hundred and twenty pounds in tens and twenties and a few pounds in change. Did he normally carry that much? He wasn't sure. It the nurse was telling the truth and he'd forgotten the last twenty years, perhaps a hundred and twenty pounds was only enough to buy a paper and a cup of tea.
He put the money to one side and looked at the cards. The debit and credit cards looked exactly as he remembered, though he didn't recall laminating his Beano club membership card and since when was he a member of the golf club? Where was his Green pass for the Laverstone Bowling club?
His driving licence furnished him with the image he remembered from the mirror, though there wasn't one in the room for him to use as a reference, and an address. He was expecting Laverstone Manor or, at a pince, 22, The Terrace but where on earth was The Old Bakery, Candle Row? He'd lived in Laverstone all his life and couldn't think where Candle Row might be. He tried to visualise the building but had no recollection of living there.
He was about to investigate the rest of the drawer when an older woman knocked on the door frame and poked her head in. “Would you like a drink, love? Tea or coffee?”