Lauren shook her head. Whatever they thought her illness was, she had to make the doctor think that there’d been a mistake, that she was well. Begging wouldn’t help. Healthy people didn’t beg. “No, I’m fine, I understand now.” Doctor Summer sat back, glanced at Lauren’s twitching leg. Lauren swiped a hand across her sweating forehead, then pressed down on her knee to stop it bouncing.

“That’s good. It sounds like we’re making progress.” As she got up she said, “You can go and wait in your room for a while. I’ll let you know when Patrick gets here with Morgan and Riley.”

“How long do I have to stay here?” said Lauren, thinking, how long until I can start looking for my boys?

The doctor sat down again, perched on the edge of the seat. “Let’s not think in terms of definite timescales at this point.”

“Can I leave? I mean, am I allowed to leave?”

“We’re going to help you, Lauren. We’re going to make sure you can be the best mother to those boys that you can be.”

On some level Lauren understood that this was a turning point. A threat was implied somehow, but she didn’t know the consequences one way or another. She had to play the game, even before she knew what the rules were. She managed to smile at the doctor, when she wanted to scream at her, let me go, let me go, before it’s too late.

“I understand,” she said.

“Good,” said the doctor, and she got up again and pulled out her keys to unlock the heavy door. Lauren would never get used to that sound, the deep clunk of the cylinder turning, the rattle of the key chains. The doctor left the door open, and Lauren thought for a moment she might be able to walk out on her own, unchaperoned, but Pauline came in after a second to take her back to her cell. The slow walk down the corridor felt like she was on her way to the gallows, a blank-faced attendant at her side. Lauren watched her own feet, trudging in the ugly black plastic clogs, but looked up when she heard the squeak of someone else’s clogs coming the other way. A woman was shuffling towards them, pushing a stroller containing a baby that was crying weakly. She too had a guard at her side, and kept her dulled eyes down until the very last moment. When she looked up at Lauren, the woman’s gaze in her sunken face was confused, and devoid of hope. Lauren wondered if that was how she looked, too.

Back in the bedroom, with its view of the grounds and the high fence in the distance, the guard and the prisoner sat in the armchairs.

“Shall I put the telly on?” asked Pauline.