‘I have a bottle in my bag,’ I reply, pointing to my crumpled rucksack. ‘In the front pocket.’

She opens the pocket and takes out the half-drunk bottle of water.

‘Here,’ she says, handing it to me. ‘Take small sips.’

I do as she says. The water is lukewarm but soothing.

‘Thank you,’ I say to Julia, cradling the bottle in my hands.

She looks at me and nods then returns to her chair.

‘Do you get those often?’ she says. ‘The anxiety attacks?’

‘If I let myself think about my reality for more than a few minutes, yes,’ I say. ‘It’s just when you said I might never be able to remember what happened I …’

‘I’m sorry, Maggie,’ she says. ‘I really didn’t mean to upset you. I was just giving you the worst-case scenario. But in the light of that panic attack I’m thinking we should look at some options.’

‘Such as what?’

‘Well, there are certain forms of medication that might be suitable. I’m thinking anti-anxiety drugs in particular.’

‘Oh,’ I say, knowing where this is leading.

‘Please don’t worry,’ says Julia, smiling.

‘It’s just …’ I begin, my voice quivering. ‘Well, I’ve been on that kind of medication before and it didn’t agree with me.’

‘Yes, I’m aware of your medical history. It was in your notes.’

She meets my eye and fear flutters through my body.

‘It’s okay,’ says Julia, noticing my discomfort. ‘The reason I’m raising this is it reinforces my feeling that we should look at some anti-anxiety medication in the short term. Now, according to your notes you have had some mental health issues in the past.’

I look down at my feet. Why does it always have to come back to this?

‘Maggie, as your GP it would really help to know a bit more about this,’ she says. ‘You were admitted into a psychiatric unit, I believe, when you were a teenager?’

‘Yes,’ I say, staring at a black mark on the white floor. ‘Almost fifteen.’

‘Okay,’ says Julia. ‘And can you tell me why you were admitted?’

I don’t answer. If I just stay silent then maybe she will stop.

‘Maggie?’

‘I don’t want to talk about this.’

‘I understand it’s difficult,’ says Julia. ‘But in order to help I really do need to know a bit more about it.’

I look up at her. She is sitting forward in her chair, her hands clasped together.

‘Maggie?’

‘It was just a … something bad happened, with me and a boy I knew, that’s all,’ I say, trying not to meet her eye. ‘It was a long time ago. It’s not relevant any more.’

‘It must have been pretty serious if you were admitted into psychiatric care,’ says Julia, her voice hardening.

I take a deep breath.

‘We got into some trouble,’ I say, staring at the white tiled floor.

‘What kind of trouble?’