‘Constance, I’ll draft a letter for you to send out to all of Dr Williams’s patients. You and Alison call anyone due to see him today and give them the choice of rearranging with me or Dr Short for later this week or keeping their appointment and seeing Dr Stevens instead. Please encourage the latter.’ He summoned you further into the room. ‘This is Dr Stevens from our Harley Street surgery.’

Grateful I could now look at you directly, I contemplated the intricacies of your face. Soaked you in. You were the epitome of posh. Everything I despised. Yet I was conflicted about how attractive I found you.

I observed as you pushed your fine-cotton white shirtsleeves further up your forearms, which you folded, unfolded, folded again before daring to draw the long breath that enabled you to speak. Before the words sounded, you broke into a smile, which forced me to momentarily lower my burning face.

‘Hello . . . I’m so sorry about Dr W-Williams. I know he was very much loved by you all. Although it’s in the saddest of circumstances I’m here, I look forward to working with everyone and getting to know you . . . and the patients.’

You delivered your stilted lines almost perfectly. Aside from that stutter with his name. Yes, I noticed. But I’m sure no one else did. You’d clearly been practising. I suspect out loud in your full-length bedroom mirror. And I could sense the relief once it had left your lips.

Your micro-speech triggered Linda’s sobs to start up again and gather momentum. Dr Harris instructed Alison to call her a cab, and for me to pack up Dr Williams’s personal belongings in his office. I didn’t want to. The idea scared me. His stuff. But I nodded subserviently, as I always did.

I remained in the waiting room, prolonging the task. Dr Harris had already left for his office. The Ratcheds had disappeared too. Alison was helping Linda on with her raincoat. You were shaking hands and talking in a low, respectful voice with Dr Short. I wonder, were you suppressing a smile at the contrast with his name and his practically being a giant at six foot seven? It always amused me. Stood next to him, I looked like a tiny child. He treated me like one as well.

Throughout all this you hadn’t noticed me once.

To further delay going to Dr Williams’s office, I headed to reception to pull up his appointments for the day. Alison was shuffling Linda out of the building, passing the responsibility on to a bemused taxi driver. The front door banged shut.

Minus the crying, all was quiet until Alison made her way to the desk.

‘I can’t believe he’s dead.’ She leant over the wooden ledge separating us to deliver her whisper.