On the Monday morning I’d woken in the despair mode. Leaving me no choice but to call in with feigned food poisoning. But by ten o’clock, after an hour, pacing, unsettled, I’d returned to hope. Desperate to see you. And by eleven I was standing in reception, a puffy-faced wreck.

‘I’m feeling much better now,’ I declared to the bewildered faces of Linda and Alison.

It was midday and I still hadn’t seen you. Each of your patients arrived early, a conveyer belt of illness, leaving no gap I could take advantage of. When Linda and her prying eyes went to the toilet, I checked the system for the rest of your appointments. Mrs Hall, Mr Pinner, then, thank God, a break.

Mr Pinner was in with you longer than the allocated slot. He didn’t even look that ill.

Despite being unable to concentrate, I inputted patient details in order to appear busy to Alison, who was killing me with stories about her new NutriBullet.

‘I know what you’re thinking – it’s the same as any other blender.’

‘That’s not what I’m thinking, Alison.’

Finally Mr Pinner emerged. I took his debit card and smiled dutifully as he gave Alison a run for her money with his chat about the orchid. It was a Miltonia. Did you know that?

Once he’d left, I was collecting up the paperwork to complete at my desk when I clocked you. I stayed put. Despite my somersaulting stomach, I continued with the notes on the reception desk, my back to you, seemingly unaware of your existence, waiting for what was to surely follow: a request for a coffee or a file. The corners of my mouth flickered upwards as my prediction came true.

‘You couldn’t make a copy of these and bring them in to me, could you, Alison?’

My mouth dropped. The somersault ended with a crash.

Still I continued writing. Pressing so hard I ruptured the paper, tattooing the wood beneath.

On hearing the buzz of the printer powering up, I turned to see Alison standing next to it, pages edging out, inch by inch.

‘I like to add melon to the kale one. As a sweetener.’ She removed each sheet from the machine. Ordered them in her hands. When the last one spat out, she placed it at the bottom of the pile. ‘I’m going to try a smoothie tomorrow, banana and strawberry.’

‘I hate strawberries. They make my face swell and could kill me.’ I grabbed the pages from her. ‘I’ll take these, Alison . . . don’t worry.’

I did knock but didn’t wait for the invite before entering.

You were on your computer, engrossed in someone’s notes. ‘Thanks, Alison. Pop it on my desk, will you.’