Page 14 of The Silent Bride
‘Anyway, itisa real thing,’ I reply. ‘I looked it up when I got home. But DrPhilips isn’t certain I have it, because it’s only Seth and his parents who I don’t recognise. Whereas with prosopagnosia you generally can’t recognise any faces at all.’
‘How scary,’ Mum says. ‘I hope you haven’t got that, darling.’
‘Me too,’ I reply. ‘DrPhilips referred me to a clinical neuropsychologist and she’s also sending me for an MRI scan on Friday, to be on the safe side.’
I think this might be the first time in my life I’ve seen Dad look genuinely shocked. Even at the church he was more angry than anything else. Whereas now ... well, he can’t exactly blame me if I have a medical condition. Although I’m sure he’ll try to make it somehow my fault. Or maybe I’m not being fair.
I don’t want to let myself think about the possibility that I might genuinely be ill. I stupidly did an online search for prosopagnosia and discovered that the scan will probably be looking for lesions on my brain. And now I can’t stop thinking about them.
‘Shall we come with you?’ Dad asks a little more gently.
‘No, it’s fine.’ I take a breath and try not to let my distress show. Ever since I came back from the doctor’s I’ve been less and less sure that I can trust myself. My parents, my friends, basically everyone I know believes that the man I didn’t recognise is my fiancé. Granted, most of them have never met him before, but what about all the people on Seth’s side of the family? Surely they would have noticed something amiss.
It makes no sense that some random stranger would pretend to be my fiancé to trick me into marrying him. I mean, it’s not as if I’m super-wealthy – my parents’ money is theirs, not mine. Although I guess Elizabeth and I will inherit it one day. I’m not incredibly beautiful either. I’m nice-looking, have a good job and I’m usually decent company, but that’s about it. I’m certainly not the kind of person someone would go to such extreme lengths to marry.
‘I’m sure you’ll be fine,’ Mum says. ‘They just do these scans as a precaution.’ But her face is taut, her forehead lined with worry.
‘I really think we should come with you to the hospital,’ Dad persists.
I decide to ignore his request rather than giving him an outright no, and inviting another argument.
‘You would have been leaving for your honeymoon today,’ Mum says wistfully.
Seth and I had booked two weeks in Aruba at a five-star hotel. It was going to be blissful. Romantic and luxurious. I try to push away the thought. The regret.
‘At least I wasn’t paying for that as well as the wedding,’ Dad grumbles. ‘I hope Seth’s got good travel insurance.’
I don’t dare ask Dad how much money he lost on the wedding. My parents are wealthy, but Dad is frugal. He absolutely hateswaste; it’s one of his bugbears. I guess it’s a hangover from scrimping for so many years.
Dad clears his throat and shifts in his seat. ‘There’s something else, Alice ...’
I’m instantly alert.
Mum looks down at her shoes.
‘What is it?’ I ask.
‘Well,’ Dad says, trying and failing to be nonchalant.
‘Tell me,’ I press, already knowing by his tone of voice that he’s going to say something I don’t want to hear.
He looks at my mum and raises an eyebrow slightly before turning back to me. ‘You haven’t been returning Seth’s calls or messages, so he contacted us and we met with him yesterday.’
‘You met him?’ I thought they might have done that, but it doesn’t feel good to know they’ve been talking about me behind my back with this stranger.
‘Yes,’ Dad confirms. ‘And we agreed that he should come over to talk to you.’
‘No. Absolutely not.’ My heart starts beating too fast and my throat tightens. I’m not ready to speak to him. I wouldn’t know what to say. Wouldn’t even know where to start.
‘Be reasonable, Alice. You were engaged to the man. He has a right to know why you didn’t go through with the wedding.’
‘Youknowwhy, and so does he!’ My skin turns clammy. I was already hot from pushing around the hoover, but the flat now feels completely airless. I walk shakily to the window and open it. An ineffective waft of warm air drifts in along with the buzz of midday traffic.
‘I know you say you don’t recognise him,’ Dad says, getting to his feet, ‘but I think the best way to get over that is to talk to him. See if some memories might start coming back.’
‘Your father’s right, Alice,’ Mum adds. ‘Maybe talking to him will jog your memory.’
I open my mouth to shoot down their suggestion, but then I close it again. Perhaps they do have a point. Much as I really don’t want to see the man that everyone says is my fiancé, maybe if I talk to him, I can find out what his game is. Or maybe something will click. Perhaps I’ll experience a flicker of recognition. A hint as to who he really is.Anything. But the thought of seeing that man again has made me literally start to shake. I need more time to prepare myself. Maybe I’ll agree to see him after my scan, when I know more.
