IT WAS TRULY a lovely morning, and Lissa decided to walk in—she was going to the center of the village, she could put her medical bag in a rucksack on her shoulders, and it wasn’t likely that she was going to be mugged or leave it on a tube train.

And it really was a glorious day; she stopped for a full five minutes across the road, watching a full field of brand-new lambs hop and skip. They were hilarious: tumbling, jumping over puddles, then every so often making bleating noises and skittering back to the comfort and safety of their mothers, who placidly ignored them as they ran rings around them and reached their little pink mouths up to suckle. They were entirely enchanting in the sunshine and hard to watch without your spirits rising at least a little.

She focused on her breathing as she approached the little terraced house. Annoyance leaped in her once again as she wished her psychiatrist hadn’t been so brusque or, if she was being truly honest, hadn’t allowed her child to hang up the call. Stupid NHS cutbacks, she told herself, throwing her in the deep end like that. And now this.

The door was flung open almost before she had finished ringing it. The woman there, though, looked confused to see her.

“Och no!” she said. “Where’s Cormac?”

“Um, he’s on secondment,” said Lissa. “It’s me instead. Sorry.”

“Aye!” said the woman, beaming. “Oh, I heard all about you!”

“Yes, I’m beginning to realize that,” said Lissa, trying to sound as friendly as the locals, rather than slightly sarcastic.

“Is he liking it?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Lissa.

The woman looked at her. “But he’s doing your job?”

“Yes.”

“But you’ve no chatted about it?”

Lissa shrugged. “Not really,” she said. “How’s . . .”

She had trouble pronouncing the name, but the woman’s face lit up.

“Oh well. You didn’t see her before. You had to see her before. That’s why I wish Cormac were here.”

“Well, he isn’t . . .”

“I know. But I wanted him to see this.”

Lissa followed, feeling very second best, into the little tidy sitting room.

Sitting in front of Pitch Perfect was a very thin, pale little girl with black circles beneath her eyes. The fact that she was sitting up was somewhat lost on Lissa.

“Hello,” the girl said softly. Her face screwed up. “Where’s Cormac?”

Lissa smiled thinly. “Oh, well, he’s in London. I’m standing in for him for a bit. Think of me as Other Cormac.”

There was a pause while Lissa wondered if she was going to meet a hostile reception. Then the girl’s face brightened.

“Will you tell him? Will you tell him you saw me? Will you tell him everything?”

“Um, of course.”

“Will you take a photo?”

“No, that’s not allowed.”