Louisa was dumbfounded. She had absolutely no recollection of ever begging for his help, the thought was absurd. But the fact was, he could make anything up and she wouldn’t be able to confidently deny or confirm it as it was clearly from the time when she had gaps in her memory. Although, to be fair to Oliver, he didn’t know this about her. After he’d left, Louisa had gone downhill, isolating herself from family and friends. She knew this more from what her mum had told her than from actually remembering it herself. The chunks of time, the memories that had been forgotten, were not discussed. Ever. It was as though she’d been in a coma for months and awoken with amnesia. She remembered people, she remembered certain feelings, but she couldn’t always piece them together. The time just prior, and just after Oliver leaving, were the worst affected. Probably because they held the most significance; the most emotional attachment.

If she said all of this now, she had the feeling Oliver wouldn’t believe her. He would assume she was choosing her timing – possibly even faking memory impairment in order to get out of helping him, to avoid returning whatever favour he was constantly referring to. It would be easier to ask him outright: what exactly did you do for me, Oliver?

But Louisa’s words wouldn’t leave her mouth. She was too afraid of the answer.

Oliver might well know all about the traumatic experience she’d had at college. He could even have been the one who’d caused it. Now, even more than before, she wished she could remember something significant. When she’d pushed herself, during the time she’d spent with the specialist, she’d been able to recall her feelings of desperation, fear and panic – those that subsequently caused her panic attacks – but no images, no faces of the people who might have been involved ever came to her. It had been frustrating then, and now it was even more so.

But she’d never asked any of her friends what they remembered, if anything; she’d never confided fully in her parents or asked what their memories of that time were – it was as if there was a reason she didn’t want to, like she was afraid of what she’d uncover. Somewhere deep in her subconscious she knew she mustn’t ask, because whatever had happened must never be spoken of.

‘Perhaps you should think about it. I’ll leave you alone now seeing as you’re so tired and I’ll pop back tomorrow.’ The door lock clicked up.

Louisa flung the car door open and ran up to her house without looking back.