‘I’m wasting my time.’ She kicked back her chair and rose to her feet. ‘If you don’t know who I am, this is pointless.’
‘All we can tell you is what we’ve pieced together. We know for certain that you and Ted aren’t married, and you’d never been associated before he appeared in your hospital room.’
‘He showed me our wedding photos and videos.’
‘And honeymoon ones, no doubt. Along with visual records of your university graduation, pictures of you on a gap year travelling the world and breaking ground on your new home. Am I right?’
‘Um … yes …’
‘He’s offered you the perfect life, hasn’t he? An idyllic existence that most people would accept regardless of whether they remembered it or not. It’s a tried and tested technique. Some call it brainwashing, others refer to it as coercive persuasion, mind control, thought manipulation, re-education, etcetera. It doesn’t matter because they’re all the same thing. With enough reinforcement and regular stimuli, in time you will believe what he wants you to believe.’
Emilia’s chest tightened. ‘Why should I trust you over him when you won’t even tell me who you are?’
‘Do you have feelings for Ted?’
Emilia went to reply but couldn’t answer.
‘Do you love him? Is there at least a physical attraction there? A familiarity you can’t put your finger on, but that is present, nonetheless?’
‘No, but that’s as a result of my amnesia.’
‘You don’t have amnesia, Emilia.’
‘Yes, I do. I’ve had multiple tests, I’ve seen specialists, it was diagnosed.’
‘For the right price, even professionals can be persuaded to offer no more than a surface-level diagnosis. That includes your consultant, Dr Fazul Choudary, who mysteriously found himself free of a burdensome mortgage recently. Amnesia is not the reason that you cannot remember, it’s as a result of what they have done to you.’
‘They?Who arethey? And what havetheydone?’
She turned to her colleague. ‘Adrian?’
His voice was low and resonant, his words clipped. ‘Something has happened to you that means your past has been locked away and neither you, nor we, know how to open it. But as Bianca says, there are five people who can assist you. They knew the old you. You just need to identify and locate them.’
‘Where are they?’
‘Four are scattered around the country, buried away under different guises, living different lives in different locations. You are living with the fifth.’
‘Ted?’ she asked, and frowned. ‘What does he know?’
‘That’s for us all to discover. He has had ample opportunity to help you to date but has chosen to construct an alternate narrative. We would like to assist you in every way possible in finding the truth.’
‘In return for what?’
‘Our sources inform us that Ted is travelling to Europe next week. We have a business opportunity of our own that we’d like to discuss with him.’
‘And if I don’t agree? If I just walk away from you right now, what will happen?’
‘Be our guest, there’s nothing stopping you. But something’s a little off about your perfect life, isn’t it? None ofit feels real. You are here because you don’t want to remain trapped in a world of uncertainty. Without us, that’s where you’ll remain for the foreseeable future – or until Ted decides enough is enough and has you killed.’
Chapter 33
FLICK, ALDEBURGH, SUFFOLK
Flick had yet to take a sip from the glass of champagne she had been handed on her arrival at Aldeburgh’s High Street Gallery.
She surveyed the room of a hundred or so guests and recognised some of their faces as pub regulars. But all she knew of art was from the secrets she held and was forbidden to share. She knew the whereabouts of undeclared works stolen from Jewish families by the Nazis in the Second World War and that were now under the secret charge of British aristocrats. And she recalled several old masters thought missing presumed destroyed but actually given away by the government to foreign leaders in return for favours.
But even to her uneducated eye, Elijah’s work was remarkable. It featured a mixture of floor-to-ceiling oil paintings and smaller, intricate lino etchings of faces. His level of detail and understanding of his subjects captivated her. Every wrinkle, mole, pore, stray eyebrow, ear hair or unaligned tooth was on display, allowing them to be honest and unforgiving. The doodle of her that he’d left her at the bar had been merciful in comparison.
