‘Good afternoon. I’m Dr O’Connor.’ His voice was soft, Irish. He looked from one to the other of them, trying to work out who to talk to.

Olivia could not contain herself. ‘I want to see my son,’ she erupted, harshly.

‘You’re Mrs Kemp?’

‘Yes, of course I am.’ She seemed suddenly enraged, as if she resented his presence there.

‘We’re friends of Krishna’s,’ Anna explained. ‘I’m Anna Craven and this is Jake . . .’ In confusion she couldn’t think of his name. For a second she saw the bizarre nature of the whole situation, that she was here with these people who a week ago she hadn’t even met.

‘Morrell,’ Jake finished for her.

‘Ah, Jake,’ Dr O’Connor said. ‘Krishna asked just now whether you were here. He’d like to see you.’

‘What about me?’ Olivia wailed, her fragile collectedness disintegrating. She went to the door again. ‘Krishna, my darling – mamaji is here!’

Anna felt Dr O’Connor observing them all. She went to Olivia and gently held her arm. ‘Livy, why not let Jake go in first, if that’s what Krish wants, and he can tell him you’re here and perhaps afterwards . . .’

Jake looked at Dr O’Connor who nodded at him. He slipped into the room and sat by Krish’s bed.

‘I should explain,’ the doctor said. ‘I’ve been called in to see your son. I’m the duty psychiatrist.’

‘No!’ Olivia recoiled from him. ‘No. We don’t need you. Don’t you go near him. Just let me talk to him. What he needs is to be home with me. We’re all right when we’re together. We’re safe. We don’t need anyone like you . . .’ Her voice was reaching higher, barely controlled.

The doors of the main ward swung open and a woman in a green overall pushed a huge, rattling trolley past them without giving them a second glance.

‘Mrs Kemp, let’s go into the side room here,’ Dr O’Connor suggested. ‘We can talk about this more privately.’

‘I’m not going anywhere with you,’ Olivia almost spat at him. ‘I’m not moving. I’m waiting here to see my son. My son.’

‘Mrs Kemp – ’ Dr O’Connor seemed to experience actual physical discomfort in bringing out his next words. ‘Krishna has told me very clearly that he is not ready to see you just at the moment. I know this is terribly difficult and I’m sure he’s not trying to hurt you deliberately. At a time like this people sometimes react most strongly against the people they’re closest to. I shouldn’t like to have to forbid you to see him. For Krishna’s sake it would be helpful if you could respect his wishes. He’s in a very low state and we’re assessing him to see whether he needs some more specialized. care. We may need to transfer him to a bed over in Rubery . . .’

Rubery Hill. The psychiatric hospital on the southern fringe of Birmingham. Olivia’s face froze. In no more than a whisper she protested, ‘No . . . No . . .’