Shaun and he introduce themselves. Silver Foxton talks warmly of the joy of being a deputy head, of why he’d have to sacrifice too much of himself to be interested in the top job. They’re soon comparing their experience of public service, of why they tolerate the shitty pay and conditions. Looking at Foxton’s attire and enormous Breitling watch, it strikes me that Shaun has a good deal more to complain about than him.

A terrifying thought occurs to me. Could this be what I’ve been fearing more than anything? For all the value that’s been placed on honesty during my treatment, there’s one thing I’ve kept secret. Foxton might know it. He’s likely to. Is that why he’s here?

I’m certain nothing in my expression gives away my worry. There was a time when such a thought would’ve had me pacing the room, shaking, watching my thoughts fly by like speeding cars under a motorway bridge. But I’m restrained by a cocktail of drugs these days: beta blockers, mood stabilizers, antidepressants, an ever-decreasing dose of antipsychotics. No adrenaline ever pumps; no panic takes hold. My brain, once a rough lump of timber, is now sanded smooth: no highs, no lows. It’s efficient and it’s boring. But I can think clearly, weigh up the odds.

He’s being too nice. This isn’t the time or place for such a revelation. He’s a decent man, I think. It wouldn’t be his style. But why then is he here? Most people might not think spending seven months in here constitutes being lucky, but they’d be wrong. I have been lucky. That might be about to change. And I’d have no right to complain. I’m suddenly desperate to get this next thirty minutes over with.

Gramps is the third person to arrive. He gives me a firm and lingering bear hug. This is part of his new approach, thrashed out in the family group therapy sessions. I could deal with the kisses on the forehead – that’s always been a Gramps thing – but the hugs suit neither of us. I’ll be telling him to pack it in just as soon as we’re alone together. Silver Foxton stands and shakes Gramps’s hand with his left cupped over for emphasis. Foxton’s sympathetic expression reassures me. If he’s here to screw me over, he’s a fine actor.

I hear the approaching clack of heels bouncing along the corridor. It can only be one person. She’s come to a couple of previous case conferences. Her perfume has already infiltrated the room before she’s set foot inside.