Gail steps back inside, letting me close the door behind her. ‘Take a seat,’ I offer.

‘I’m going to be late,’ she snaps, sitting.

‘I know, I’m sorry, but this is important.’ She clasps her hands around her knee and waits for me to begin. And so I do. I tell her about Susan and the number. Rhys and the visits. The key. The book. The clipping. Her house. I tell her about trying to help, trying to do the right thing. Being in the wrong place at the right time or maybe, fortuitously, the right place at the right time. I can see from the look on her face that my rambling isn’t helping.

‘You’re supposed to follow protocol with regards to patients like Susan. You can’t just go wandering into her home.’

‘I know, I understand that. But I had no choice, Rhys was going in anyway. And had I not, we’d never have this additional information that might just help us fix her, Gail.’ I stand now, suddenly confident that whatever protocol dictates, I did do the right thing and I can help. I can make a difference.

Gail stares at me, then at her watch. She looks around the office, then stands, moving to the window, folding her arms. Saying nothing.

‘I’ve talked it through with Mr Barnes, Gail. He asked me to write a full report.’ I pull the screen around for her to see. ‘It’s all here. My findings, the detail, and my thoughts on what we might be able to do. He has asked me to submit it to the mental health team before a meeting we have, so we can organise a strategic course of action. Gail, I know this isn’t ideal, but you were right, some patients are different. They require more care. Capacity doesn’t always afford us that time, but on this occasion, we’re fortunate to be able to take positive action.’ I feel almost as surprised as Gail looks by my sudden confidence in the matter. Everyone else seems to believe I can do this – perhaps it’s time I believed it too. Gail stands. ‘Send me the report as well. Make sure I have every single piece of detail. In the event that Susan, or any family we’ve so far been unable to find, suggests there is an issue with your actions, I need to ensure I have all the facts to defend you.’ She turns and heads for the door. ‘Kat…’

I hold my breath.

‘This is a highly complex situation. Be careful. Track every single thing you do. I have to leave or I’ll be late.’ I nod. She nods in return then leaves, giving me no real indication of what she’s really thinking. I fall back into my chair, letting out a long-held breath. I stare at the screen, my report staring back at me. I delete the word ‘acting’ from my job title at the end of the paper, clicking save. Ward Sister Kat Davies. That’s me.