‘Sorry,’ says Julia, turning to face him, her hands on her hips. ‘Who are you?’

‘I’m Frank Hutchinson,’ he says, standing back. ‘The proprietor of this establishment.’

‘Right, well, my name is Dr Julia Mathers,’ she says, her voice reverberating around the narrow hallway. ‘I’m Mrs Allan’s GP and I’ve been here on a scheduled home visit.’

She is a good five inches taller than him and he seems to cower under her gaze.

‘Oh,’ he says, looking at me suspiciously. ‘Well, she should have told me. I don’t feel happy having unauthorized people in here. But as you’re a doctor I’m happy to let this one go.’

‘Good,’ says Julia. ‘Mrs Allan has suffered an unimaginable tragedy and is in a physically fragile state. She is staying in your “establishment” for a few days until her new place is ready and you are being paid well for it. So maybe you’ll offer a bit more empathy towards her for the duration of her stay.’

‘Like I said, I had no idea you were her GP,’ he says, holding his hands in the air. ‘I meant no offence. Oh, and Mrs Allan, your carer said to call her on this number when you got back.’

He passes me a bit of paper then slinks back down the corridor. Julia keeps her gaze on his departing figure then turns to me.

‘What an arsehole,’ she says, shaking her head. ‘He’s clearly suffering from a serious condition.’

‘What’s that?’ I say.

‘Small man syndrome,’ says Julia, giggling.

It’s a funny comment and there was a time when I would have laughed along, but all I can manage now is a forced smile.

‘Listen, I’d better go,’ she says, her smile fading. ‘You should get some rest. I’ll see myself out.’

‘Bye, Julia,’ I say. ‘Thanks again.’

As I watch her walk away I feel an odd sensation, a fleeting one but powerful none the less. She had listened to me; helped me. And she had done so without being condescending. It had felt like I was talking to a friend. Now that she’s gone I feel so utterly alone it hurts.