The Girl With No Past Read Online Free PDF Page A

the lighter I had used only a few hours ago to light the candles. Then, holding both items above the sink, I lit the corners of each, and watched them blacken and crumble.
    Only when I had removed all the charred pieces from the sink did I climb back into bed and pull the duvet over my head, telling myself nothing had happened. That it had just been another ordinary anniversary.

FOUR
    On Monday I made my way to Fulham. I had an appointment with Dr Redfield and probably would have rescheduled, as I usually did, had it not been for the card and photo. I may have destroyed the evidence, tried to tell myself nothing had happened, but erasing the memory was impossible.
    As I walked along Fulham Palace Road, I tried to remember the last time I’d kept an appointment with Dr Redfield. I had a vague memory of wearing a loose top because the shoulder kept falling down, and I was conscious of constantly hiking it back up, so it must have been during the summer. And now the end of the year was approaching. Would she see right through me? Would she know I was only going now because she was the only person I could mention what had been happening to? But I didn’t suppose it mattered. She was not a friend whose feelings I had to worry about; she was paid to listen.
    It always astonished me that Dr Redfield worked from home, letting people into her private family house. It was a beautiful three-storey terrace house on Rigault Road, and if I’d owned it, I wouldn’t have let people like me anywhere near it. She worked out of a downstairs room that had been converted into an office, but other rooms were visible from the front door, so what was to stop someone strolling around, prying into her life?
    I hated to think how much Mum was forking out for my sessions. I’d been having them on and off for over ten years and I knew she was dipping into the inheritance Dad had left her. Many times I’d tried to persuade her I was fine without Dr Redfield, but she wouldn’t listen. My sessions were only monthly – or meant to be at least – but it still added up, so I worried how she was managing. But Mum would never discuss it. To her, financial affairs were not something to burden your children with. Even if that child was now an adult, and responsible for everything bad that had happened in your life.
    Dr Redfield was already standing at the door, watching me, when I walked up the path. As always, she was dressed immaculately, this time in a pencil skirt, cardigan and pretty black and white scarf tied in a knot around her neck. I could never tell her exact age, but she was probably fifty-something yet better dressed than I was. My clothes weren’t dowdy, just nondescript. Jeans, slightly fitted t-shirts or jumpers, boots or trainers. Nothing that would make me stand out, but nothing that would point me out as a slob either. It was all about blending in.
    ‘Don’t worry, I haven’t been standing here long, I just saw you from the window,’ Dr Redfield said, smiling and beckoning me inside. ‘I’m glad you’re here, Leah, it’s been a long time, hasn’t it?’
    I looked at my watch and it was only five to ten. But Dr Redfield wouldn’t mind about giving me an extra five minutes; she was kind and considerate, which only made me feel worse for cancelling so many appointments. Following her into the office, I sat down on one of the black leather armchairs while she set about making me a cup of tea. Despite the infrequency of my visits, she always remembered I liked to have tea during our sessions.
    ‘So how have you been?’ She sat on the other chair and took a sip of whatever she had made for herself.
    I wondered if she made her patients drinks to make us feel more like we were just having a cosy chat rather than a counselling session. But whatever the case, it worked. I told her I’d been fine but she scrunched up her eyes and frowned.
    ‘Have you been going out at all? Meeting people?’ By people she meant men. She considered