Discovering that we had no gym, no pool, nothing, was usually quite a moment—high-pitched, angry objections where phrases like ‘natural high’, ‘keeps me sane’ and ‘human rights’ were flung about. (Also me.)

Funnily enough, though, when they discovered they’d be getting plenty of exercise scrubbing bathrooms, hoovering hallways and generally keeping the entire house clean and sparkling, they were even more furious. (Me again.)

Ella’s bags had been searched and the inevitable contraband seized. (Once again me. When I’d arrived at the Cloisters, I’d tried to smuggle in a jar of Valium.)

‘But her bloods came back clean,’ Priya said. Which meant she was in.

In the dining hall was a young woman with her arm in a sling—this had to be Ella. In yoga pants, running shoes and a raggedy-edged sweater that I owned in a different colour, there was a real bloom about her: shiny dark hair and freckles, she was pretty and wholesome-looking.

‘Ella? I’m Rachel, your therapist. Come with me, we’ll have a chat.’

In a consulting room, we sat opposite each other. ‘How are you doing?’ I asked.

‘Oh, you know.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘This was hardly part of my life plan.’

‘Getting addicted to sleeping tablets?’

‘No, I meant…I mean, ending up in rehab.’

‘What about getting addicted to sleeping tablets? Was that part of your life plan?’

‘Well, no, because I’m not.’ She was clear-eyed, earnest. ‘I haven’t.’

‘So…?’ I feigned confusion. ‘Why are you here?’

‘My boyfriend and my best friend, they kind of had a freak-out. There was a thing with Jonah’s car—they overreacted.’

‘And Boyd, your boss?’

She seemed startled that I knew who he was. ‘He overreacted too.’

‘That’s a lot of people who’ve overreacted.’

‘I know how it looks.’ She was so keen to explain. ‘On paper, the facts are bad. But I know myself fairly well—I’d know if I had a problem. And believe me, if I had one, I’d want to deal with it.’

‘So why are you here?’

‘I thought if I came in for a few weeks, they’d stop freaking out.’

‘Riiiight. So you’ve come here to prove you’re not an addict?’ I could play good cop now and again.

She met my eyes. ‘And I know how that sounds too. But they were on my case so much it just seemed easier to give in.’

They never stopped amazing me, my clients. They could convince themselves that day was night, in order to keep on using. Now and again reality might break through but in most cases, they truly believed they could justify drinking or taking tablets or placing bets or making that booty call. Reasonable people, intelligent people, educated people—it made no difference. Addiction was the wave that washed away facts, common sense, kindness, everything good.