Returning to the reception, I swallowed hard to keep down the porridge Dale had made me eat. Not only because of the unimaginable fear of seeing her, being found out, but her coming to the surgery at all. Needing to have the baby checked. The harm I must have done. Such concern you couldn’t set her mind at rest, as you’d probably spent the weekend delighting in each other’s company.

My pulse was so fast it felt devoid of gaps between each beat. I stood in front of Linda, waiting for her to finish her call with Mr Jacobson. She was taking her time. Flirting in the most inappropriate fashion as she rearranged his appointment, explaining that Dr Short had left for the day as his little girl had fallen at school and hit her head. Finally the receiver went down.

‘Can I go to lunch a bit earlier today, please, Linda? I have to take my medication at a specific time and need to have it with food.’

I cannot adequately explain the terror that enveloped me for the rest of the morning. As I awaited my escape, trips to the toilet increased. Lunchtime loomed and I remained so quiet I had to announce to Linda and Alison, ‘I’m sorry for being strange. I . . . I still don’t feel a hundred per cent.’

At twelve forty the danger was so close I stood and said, ‘I’ll be going now, Linda—’ but I’d barely spoken her name when the phone rang.

While picking up the receiver, she held out her arm to signal me to wait. I gathered my bag and put on my coat and scarf to prevent her stopping me. I could barely use my shaking fingers. They had a life of their own as I urgently worked on each button. I stood there. Claustrophobic. Sandwiched between Linda’s faux concern for the patient she was speaking to and Alison’s prattling.

‘I hope it comes tonight. I love snow, you know . . . Hey – snow, you know. I’m a poet and I don’t know it . . . Kevin and I had our first kiss when it was snowing. He was walking me home from the party that we—’

‘It’s not snowing, Alison,’ I said as Linda put down the phone. ‘I’m heading off now, Linda, if that’s OK?’

‘Did you call Miss Keller to tell her about Dr Short?’

‘No . . . Sorry. I—’

‘Well, you can’t go without doing it, Constance.’

I slapped my bag onto the desk and pressed the digits into the phone with the same force I wished I could apply to Linda’s face.

‘Yes . . . yes . . . Thank you, Miss Keller . . . Apologies once again . . . We’ll see you tomorrow at three, then.’ It took two slams to replace the receiver. The noise resonated around reception.