‘Don’t worry. I’m coming.’ I turn to Rhys. ‘No games,’ I say, as if this final warning ensures I stay in control of my ward, my patients, my career. He looks at me, rolls his eyes and heads back to Susan.

Chapter Sixteen

SUSAN

I’ve heard the hushed tones, but I can’t make out their words. If he leaves, without coming back, then that’s the end. I’ve ruined it. Now he’ll never know, and I will never rest. I hold my breath when they finish and relief washes over me when I see his face again.

‘Well, that could have gone better,’ he says, hands on hips, his fingers drumming. ‘Why, Susan?’ he asks, as if genuinely expecting a response. I suppose now might be a good time to give him the courtesy of an answer, but instead, I reach back for the key.

‘I’ve been told it’s not okay. I think they’re concerned about the fact we don’t know each other that well. Fair enough, but I just got right ‘done’ out there.’ He points beyond my bed and, heart racing, I reach for his hand. Ignoring the rush of pain I again feel at his touch, I push the key into his grasp, then quickly reach for the pen to write my instruction.

‘Book of fairy tales, bedside table.’

I rip out the note and pass it to him.

He reads it, then looks in the direction of Kat’s office. ‘I’m not sure…’ he says, letting out a deep sigh. ‘Maybe I can ask someone from here to collect it. Maybe Kat?’ But before he finishes I’ve written another note: ‘YOU. PLEASE.’ I turn the notebook to face him, and reach up to push his hand, complete with key, back towards his body, ignoring the rip in my soul as we touch. I look him straight in the eye. I need that book. I wipe a tear, but not before he’s noticed.

‘Are you sure?’ he asks, nodding slowly. I blink. ‘Okay.’ He folds the note, pushing it into his pocket along with the key. ‘Okay.’ He sighs, nods again, then leaves, glancing over his shoulder before disappearing from view.

I push away the notebook, sink back into the bed and stare out of the window. His visits. His care. His face. Without the book, I cannot do this.

Chapter Seventeen

KAT

Lou sits on the worktop, her hands stuffed under her thighs as she swings her legs and chats me through mood boards whilst I cook. ‘What do you think of these for the table?’ she asks, her thoughts darting between wedding and gossip. ‘One on each place setting.’‘Nice. Ish.’‘Maybe you were right and he did ask Susan for the key.’ She unpins the now rejected wedding favour photo, throwing it in the bin. ‘Oh, and flowers. I love these, don’t you?’ She points at a hessian-wrapped bunch of freesias and my grandma’s perfume springs to mind. ‘Maybe he’s a manipulating mastermind. Or a burglar. She just handed over easy access.’ She frowns at the picture, eventually ripping it off too. ‘Is the glitter a bit much on these?’ I glance over her shoulder. ‘Roses are beautiful without added bling,’ I suggest.