With a view to having her knee examined, she had worn a skirt rather than trousers and, in spite of the cold weather, no tights. Just socks under her sensible shoes. She didn’t relish the indignity of having to take any clothes off.

Once she had confirmed that the right knee was the one causing her problems, Dr Rawley asked her to stand and move her foot in various directions, first with shoes on, then without. She had to tell him which positions caused pain, and he noted the result on an iPad.

Next, as requested, she lay down on the treatment couch while he felt and manipulated the offending limb, once again noting the movements which made her wince.

He asked her to get off the couch and take a chair. Then he announced, ‘I would say it is definitely arthritis.’

This was far from good news for Carole. The word ‘arthritis’ carried such heavy connotations of age and decrepitude. She didn’t think she was old enough to be even distantly associated with the condition.

‘Presumably,’ she said, ‘your diagnosis could be confirmed by an X-ray?’

‘It could be,’ Dr Rawley agreed, ‘though it would be a waste of effort to take one.’

‘Why?’

‘Because, as you observed, it would only confirm what I’ve just told you. What is causing the pain in your knee is arthritis.’

‘I’m sure, if I’d gone to my usual doctor, he would have recommended having an X-ray taken.’ She didn’t mention the unlikelihood of her actually getting an appointment with her usual doctor.

Dr Rawley shrugged. ‘That would have been his decision, and I am not about to question the decision of a fellow practitioner. It is my view, however, that an X-ray is unnecessary and a waste of expensive resources.’

‘Oh.’

‘And, incidentally, I think I would be justified in asking, if you so favour the methods of your usual doctor, why aren’t you at their surgery consulting them? Why have you come to see me?’

This was too direct a question, and one for which Carole had not really prepared an answer. She replied evasively, ‘I’ve had your services recommended to me.’

‘That’s good. From a satisfied customer?’

To say ‘No’ would sound stupid. She wished she hadn’t started off down this particular track. So, she said, ‘Yes.’

‘May I ask who?’

She was stuck with it now. ‘Bill Shefford.’

There was a momentary silence before Dr Rawley said, ‘Well, I’m glad he was a satisfied customer. Before … what happened to him.’

‘Very sad.’

‘Yes.’ The doctor seemed to feel that enough had been said on that subject. ‘So, the question I’m sure you want to ask is: What do we do about it?’

‘What do we do about what?’ asked Carole, whose mind had been developing other scenarios.

‘Your knee.’

‘Ah. My knee. Yes.’