The only thing that made any sense during my hours lying awake was my decision to contact Tara Moore. As much as I hate the idea, I have to be sure she doesn’t give my name to the cops if they do come calling. My father made sure my name was kept off the lease at the time so it shouldn’t be too hard to do. I hope she’ll agree. It’s been such a long time since I’ve been in contact with her; almost three years since I walked out of Huntley Lodge that day, never to return. Ignoring all her attempts to communicate with me after that was easy. I didn’t want to talk to her. But now I have to. I’ll convince her the cops don’t need to know I was living there at the time. That it will just confuse things and keep them hanging around asking even more questions. I’ll remind her that won’t be good for either of us.

The smell of coffee offers hope. I pour a strong dose into my cup and look out the window at the dull morning coming to life. It’s only seven, too early to ring Tara so I go to my diary and check the day ahead. Appointment after appointment fills the lines on the page in front of me. Just my luck – it’s going to be a busy day. I might be better waiting until this evening to ring her when I have time to talk. I need to find out if she’s worried too and if she knows anything more than what is showing up in the newsfeeds. The worst thing that can happen now is the cops will discover the body has been there since we were living at Huntley Lodge. If that happens, they will be all over our asses and, regardless of my cognitive ability, it will be difficult to hide the truth.

I finish my coffee then stand under the heat of the shower for longer than is necessary. If I’m to get through the day with all this in my head, I’m going to have to focus. I put on a pair of blue trousers, comfortable but trendy shoes and close the buttons on my navy silk shirt. I take one last glance in the mirror before heading out the door.

Before I know it, it’s five o’clock. I got through the day without letting the discovery at Huntley Lodge distract me from the job in hand. And now it’s time to deal with it. I leave consultation room number four with a file under my arm and walk down the corridor towards my own room. The smell of something citrusy fills the air when I walk past the reception desk where Anna appears to be finishing up for the day.