The Memory Keepers

"When you're chasing memories to survive, it's better to leave the past behind ..."
The Memory Keepers by Natasha Ngan

When you’re chasing memories to survive, it’s better to leave the past behind …

Seven is a thief with a difference – he steals downloadable memories from banks and memoriums to sell onto London’s black market, trading secrets and hidden pasts for a chance at a future of his own. He makes sure he keeps some special stuff back to ‘surf’ himself though – it’s the only real form of entertainment he can afford. But one night, as Seven is breaking into a private memorium in a wealthy part of London, he is caught in the act by one of its residents: Alba, the teenage daughter of London’s most famous criminal prosecutor. Instead of giving him away, Alba promises to keep Seven’s secret – as long as he allows her to go memory-surfing herself. In doing so, they discover a hidden memory about Seven’s past, revealing a shocking secret about his childhood, the government and a mysterious experiment known as The Memory Keepers …

Now Seven and Alba will have to race against time to unlock the maze of The Memory Keepers – but can they keep themselves out of harm’s way before the London Guard – and Alba’s father – catches up with them?

Publication Date:
ISBN Paperback: 9781471401541
ISBN Ebook: 9781471401558



Natasha Ngan

Natasha Ngan was born in St Albans, Hertfordshire, and spent her childhood in both the UK and Malaysia, where the Chinese side of her family is from. She also spent it living in two other worlds - reality, and her imagination. As an only child, books were her best friends, and though she now has real, physical, human friends, books are still every bit as important to her.

Natasha has always (only) wanted to be an author. THE ELITES is her first novel, and she regularly blogs about her experiences of being a debut author. Outside of writing YA fiction, Natasha works as a freelance social media consultant and runs a fashion and photography blog with her boyfriend Callum ( Follow Natasha at: or on Twitter: @girlinthelens


It was without doubt the grandest house Seven had ever been inside, but he wasn't the slightest bit impressed. Scowling at the view, he turned away and headed down the hall. The room he was looking for - the memorium - was at the back of the east wing of the house, tucked away behind a secret doorway in the least used of the family's eight drawing rooms. Seven had learnt these details on his observation trips. Though the memorium didn't have any windows, so he couldn't be completely sure, he'd seen the same layout in other houses he'd stolen skids from. Plus, he'd spotted figures disappearing into the bookshelf on the far right of the room. Unless he was going mad (a possibility - it was a side effect of hunger), then that had to be where the Whites' memorium was hidden. There was always a secret doorway. After all, memories were powerful things. You didn't want them getting into the wrong hands. 'And guess what these are?' Seven grinned, raising his hands and giving a little wave as he reached the drawing room. He only had to scan the bookshelves lining the far wall once before spotting the edge of a doorway etched into the wood, moonlight catching on the ridge. He tiptoed over. Heart quickening as it always did in this moment - his second favourite part of a thieving job - Seven pressed his hands against the wood to one side of the shelves. For a few seconds, he hesitated. If the door was locked, he'd come all this way for nothing. But, reminding himself that Northers rarely locked their memoriums, he slid his fingers into the grooves of the hidden doorway and pushed. It opened, its weight gently giving way under his hands. Seven relaxed, a grin sneaking its way to his lips. And then his stomach plummeted. There was a light on in the room, a flickering lamp set on a desk, and the door swung wider to reveal a girl inside. Her glossy curtain of auburn hair rippled in the firelight as she turned towards him. He saw it all as though in slow motion; her pretty eyes widening, her mouth dropping open, hands balling into fists at her sides. For some mad reason, Seven didn't run. He could have. He might just have made it out. Instead, he was rooted to the spot. All he could do was stare stupidly at the girl, his lips still twisted in a half-grin, thinking how annoying it was that this time he wouldn't get to experience his number one favourite moment of a skid-thieving trip - Getting out of the house with the stolen memories, having not been caught.