She drops her head, clearly not wanting to tell me.

‘I’m not going to tell tales, you know,’ I say softly. ‘But I want to understand the whole set-up because at the moment I’m not comfortable with how it all works. Please, trust me?’

She is quiet for a moment longer. ‘I went upstairs when they were away.’

I don’t speak, scared that anything I say will throw her and stop her talking.

‘I learned the combination for the keypad by the door. I’ve got an ear for a tune – I used to be a pianist, quite a good one. Anyway, they went away for a while just before you came. I worked out which numbers had to be pressed and in which order from the sounds made by the keys. Do you understand what I mean?’

I know exactly what she means.

For a moment I am puzzled about Thea and Garrick going away. Then I realise it must have been when they were with me, in Myanmar. It’s hard to believe they left the girls here on their own.

‘What did you do about food? Didn’t you try to run away?’

For a moment she looks terrified. ‘It wasn’t a problem. Thea left all the meals in the freezer. They were labelled for each day. And why would I run away? They’re helping us. But I was worried there might be a fire or something and we would be trapped, so I wanted to know how to get out if that happened. And then…well, once I was in the house and I knew they wouldn’t catch me, I was curious and went snooping. I found where Thea had hidden all of my things. Everything was still there. My phone, my house keys, my credit cards, my cash – even my passport. I only took the diary. I don’t suppose she’ll ever check.’

‘Why would she have your passport?’

The girl shrugged. ‘Perhaps it was in my handbag. I don’t remember. Maybe I had planned to smuggle the baby out of the country. It all seems so unreal, so impossible.’

This feels so wrong to me.

‘Why can’t we have our own things – diary, purse, make-up, clothes that fit?’ I indicate the baggy tracksuit bottoms and T-shirt I’m wearing.

‘It’s all part of the doctor’s regime of trust,’ she says with a shrug. ‘We have to trust them, and they us. For that to be effective we need to reject our former life and everything that came with it.’

I don’t know what to say to this. The doctor has talked to me about trust, but this is extreme. It doesn’t feel like trust; it feels like dependence.

‘You’ll learn,’ she says. ‘The doctor has some rituals that help us with trust. They’re part of the treatment. He says I remind him of someone. I have her gentle hands.’