‘Hm.’ The doctor removed the contact from her breast and washed his hands before turning back to her. ‘Do you mind if I just check out a few details about your life and lifestyle?’

‘No.’ With a little nervous giggle, she added, ‘Well, to get one of them out of the way, I probably drink more than the recommended government guidelines.’

Jude knew how to play this game. She’d been the one asking the questions to innumerable clients over the years. And she’d seen enough of them terrified to know how to do it.

‘You can do up your brassiere if you like,’ said Dr Rawley. She had deliberately worn a front-fastening one, which she now hooked up, before rearranging her top and scarves over it. Again, she fumbled with unsteady hands.

As she answered his routine questions, the doctor made notes on an iPad. It was all straightforward stuff. All she had to do was remember to sound paranoid.

When he’d finished the questionnaire, Dr Rawley put the iPad down on his desk. ‘It’s a scary disease, cancer.’

‘I know.’

‘Often scarier in the imagining than in the reality.’

Jude, who knew perfectly well what he meant by that, asked, ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘I mean that it’s still the great bogeyman of illnesses. People worry disproportionately about the risks of developing cancer. Much more than other equally threatening diseases. And the worry particularly affects people who live on their own. Which, from what you’ve said, I gather you do.’

‘Yes,’ said Jude truthfully.

‘Particularly women who live on their own. And particularly women round your age.’

Jude made no objection to this categorization. She didn’t mind being written off as menopausal. She was playing a longer game.

‘Have you been worrying about the possibility that you’ve got breast cancer, Mrs Nicholls? Having sleepless nights over it?’

‘I have a bit,’ Jude conceded, mendaciously.

‘Hm.’ Dr Rawley was silent for a long moment. ‘As a matter of interest, why did you come here with this anxiety? Presumably, you’re registered with your local GP?’

‘Yes, but there’s always such a palaver there about getting an appointment, and then you might have to wait up to three weeks. I wanted a quick response. I wanted to know for sure whether or not I’ve got breast cancer.’

‘I can understand that. And you were prepared to pay for this speedier response?’

‘Of course. Money’s never been a problem for me,’ she lied.

‘I’m glad to hear it.’ He looked her straight in the eye. ‘And is that really the reason you didn’t want to go to the GP?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘For some people, Mrs Nicholls, health is a very private matter.’

‘Yes?’

‘Particularly if it’s something potentially serious.’ She nodded. ‘So, some people would rather keep their condition a secret, at least until they’ve had it professionally investigated.’

‘I can understand that.’