Malcolm takes an envelope out of his rucksack and brings it over to where I’m slumped in the armchair. ‘Fingerprints,’ he grunts without looking me in the eye. He takes my hand and presses my fingers down on the envelope in several places before trudging back and placing it on the end of the bed.

‘That’s your suicide note,’ Celia explains. ‘It’s all typed out, very simple and to the point, saying how you can’t live with the guilt any longer and that you never meant to kill your sister, it was an accident etcetera. I’ve had this plan in place since the redevelopment was announced, but I hoped we’d never have to carry it out. Unfortunately, with the building going ahead and your memories returning, here we are.’ She holds her hands out apologetically.

‘I got you to sign a blank piece of paper a while ago when I asked for your signature for the petition. Thankfully you were busy at work and you weren’t paying much attention. I used that sheet of paper for your suicide note. It’s already got your fingerprints on it, and I was wearing gloves that day.’

A wave of nausea sweeps over my whole body and my stomach begins to cramp.

‘Oh dear,’ Celia says, squinting down at me. ‘Your facial muscles are really twitching now. I imagine you must feel quite wretched. There are a few side effects to that blocker. Don’t worry, we’re almost done here. Not too much longer until it’s all over.’

The fury I felt moments ago is quickly replaced by the darkest fear I’ve ever experienced. My mind rebels and judders in terror as Celia and Malcolm position themselves on dining chairs either side of me and together begin to manhandle me up onto the chair… towards the rope.

Thirty-Three

THE DAY OF THE WEDDING

I feel like I’m falling into an infinite black space. Down, down, down into the darkness. Until… BAM! I open my eyes and find myself staring into my fiancé’s worried face.

‘Toby,’ I croak.

He crouches and takes my hand and I realise he’s trembling. ‘Are… are you okay? You really gave us a scare.’ His face is chalk white, his neck red and mottled. ‘We were so worried.’

‘Where…?’ I try to sit up, but my brain feels as though it’s floating loose in my skull, so I give up and sink back down. It’s then that I realise I’m lying on the floor, my head on a cushion. ‘What happened?’

‘Don’t you remember?’ he asks.

I try to think, but my mind is fuzzy. ‘What’s going on? Why do I feel weird?’