Chapter Two

A short while later he found himself sat in a bustling pub nursing the dregs of a pint, waiting for Joe to return with the next round. There were some drunken lads hanging around the jukebox and he couldn't help but smile at their clichéd music choices. DJ Fresh didn't seem appropriate for a Saturday afternoon in the pub but still they kept repeating the same mindless song over and over.

Music was the one thing he was quite clued up on. After the accident he read somewhere that music was a major trigger to memories. But after spending most of his pay cheques on music, memories still evaded him and after two years and a somewhat staggering vinyl collection he had given up and instead attempted some other useless recommendation from the Internet. Each one as fruitless as the last. He didn't bother at all anymore. It wasn't that he had given up he just didn't see the point anymore. What was the point in finding himself when no one else was interested in finding him?

He cocked his head slightly as the lads around the jukebox jeered jovially at one of their members as a new song began to play; clearly unhappy with the new direction he had taken their playlist. DJ Fresh had finally given way to a much mellower tune that John did not know, and yet there was something so familiar about it. He shut his eyes and pressed his fingers against them, trying to squeeze out the vision that began to filter through. He was stood in an unfamiliar room holding someone. His heart felt as if it were about to explode in his chest as she pulled back and stared up at him with tear strewn beautiful green eyes. Then he was somewhere else, with her again, although she looked much younger. This room was filled with people, her green eyes were piercing into him again as he danced with her but this time they were smiling up at him. Carla Connor. Carla Connor was smiling up at him.

"You look like you've just seen a ghost," Joe laughed, slamming their drinks onto the table.

"What's this song called?" he demanded.

"What song?"

"The one that's playing right now," John's voice became more desperate as the vision began to melt away.

"I dunno, it's by the Verve maybe? John, are you alright?"

"Liam."

"What?"

"My name, it's Liam," he repeated with more conviction this time.

Joe looked confused before the penny began to drop. "Did you just remember that?"

A huge grin spread across Liam's face. "Liam Connor, that's definitely it. And Carla Connor. She must be my wife or something?"

"Is she hot?"

"I don't know, yes? She has green eyes," Liam remembered from his flashback, pulling his notebook from his pocket he rapidly began jotting this fact down into his notebook.

Joe gulped down the beginning of his pint, making a move for the exit as he did.

"Where are you going?" Liam looked up from his notepad.

"Weatherfield Gazette, I can check out all the old newspapers online. I'll look you up Liam Connor."

Liam finished a final sentence in his book and reread what he had transferred to paper, his mind still racing. This small window to his past life was more than he had ever had, and he found himself petrified he would lose it all over again.

"Are you coming or what?" Joe smiled at his friend and Liam followed him out the door eagerly.