Mr. Nobody(57)
“The Metropolitan Police are at the hospital, they’ve taken over from the local police force. Apparently, now they think he’s some boy that went missing—abducted—in the early nineties. The police have got a social worker with them and they’re trying to get access to the ward right now. Apparently, they want to question him about it before he meets the parents.”
“Jesus Christ,” Joe exclaims. “First they think he’s a soldier and now he’s some missing kid?”
“God knows what evidence they think they have, Joe, but he is not ready for this kind of shit. Even the most basic questioning is triggering panic attacks. If they wade in, with no proper medical training, and start questioning him about being held in captivity for almost thirty years—God knows what kind of trauma that’ll cause. Especially if they’re right about it!”
I dash into the house and grab my car keys, Joe following after, incredulous. “Stop, Em! Just stop! Stop what you’re doing!” he barks, bringing me instantly to a standstill. Joe never raises his voice. “Em, listen to me. This situation is insane.” I read the concern on his face. “You should not be putting yourself through this, there’s no need for it, let someone else do this job. You shouldn’t have come back here. I know we talked it through before you agreed, but I didn’t realize it would be like this—with the police and press and what’s been going on with this particular patient—plus, I thought you were in a better place yourself, Em. I thought—no, you made me think—you would be able to handle all of this, coming back here.”
“I can handle it, Joe,” I protest fiercely, but I know I’m lying. Because Joe wouldn’t be here if I could handle it, would he? Shit.
“Em, we can just go home, you know. Right now. You can just call the hospital and tell whoever you tell that you’re resigning. The world won’t collapse. We can just go. I mean, the Met showing up unannounced sounds like a pretty good reason to step back anyway, doesn’t it?”
I feel my resolve falter—he’s right, there’s something so incredibly off about all of this—but then I remember Matthew’s words that first night. How could he know those things unless he’d been there that night, or known someone who was? I need to know who he is. I think of his trust in me yesterday as he struggled for breath. I push the feeling away.
“No. I said I’d do it, Joe. I told my patient that I’d help him. I promised him that everything would be okay.”
Joe’s tone softens. “That’s not your call, Emma. You don’t get to control whether everything is okay or not. You’re not omnipotent. You can only do your best. This, all of this, is too much. For someone so intelligent you can be so stupid! Let someone else handle it. This guy—whoever he turns out to be—is not your responsibility.”
“No, Joe, he is. He actually is because that is my job. I wish I could leave it to someone else but no one else here has my expertise. I’m the only person here, medically, who can help him.” I’m saying it but I don’t know if it’s true. I’m sure there are other doctors Peter could call. Maybe Richard Groves could take over remotely. Perhaps it might be better, for Matthew, for me, if I did step aside, given his strange connection to me. I take in Joe’s exasperated face. “All right,” I say, finally. “I’ll stop. I’ll just do the rest of today, okay? Then I’ll stop. I’ll tell them I need to hand over.”
Joe holds my gaze. “Promise? You’ll sort this Met thing out and then you’ll let them know you’re done? You’ll resign from this case?”
“Yes,” I say, fingering the car keys in my hand. If Matthew is the missing Benjamin Taylor, then all my questions about how he knows me are redundant anyway, aren’t they? The sooner I find out if he’s Benjamin, the sooner I’ll know this is all in my head. “But right now, I really need to go in, Joe.”
He sighs, then nods. “I’ll come to the hospital with you and get the train back home from King’s Lynn. You can call me later, let me know how it goes.”
I turn back to him. “Wait, Joe, I don’t think you should come.” He looks confused, so I explain. “The press found out Matthew was talking yesterday, they’re all over the hospital. I don’t want you to have to go through that. It’s like before.”
The color drains from his cheeks and he swallows before rallying. “Well, they better watch out, hadn’t they, ’cause I don’t know about you, but I’ve certainly learned a few tricks since then.” He gives a winning smile just as my phone explodes into life again.
29
DR. EMMA LEWIS
DAY 10—TINKER, TAYLOR,
SOLDIER, SPY
Media tents line the back of the car park like festival booths. There are television trucks, presenters getting makeup touch-ups while they scan scripts, production runners dashing back and forth. Someone’s even set up a food truck to feed them all. And I thought it was bad when I left last night after the news broke that Matthew was talking. It seems I’m the last to hear about the Met’s involvement in the case. I feel Joe shift in the car seat next to me. Oh God, I shouldn’t have brought him here. Why did I let him come?
They recognize my car as soon as I pull up to the staff bay, and start shouting and running toward the car—they know I’m Mr. Nobody’s doctor. And they know that if I’m back at the hospital, then something is definitely happening. I look to Joe. He nods and pops his car door. Thankfully, I catch sight of the security chief, Trevor, ahead of the throng rushing toward us. When he gets close enough he eyes Joe quickly before launching into an update.