‘Tip-top,’ I said. ‘Ticking along nicely, ta.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. I have to say I’m not quite so pleased at hearing about some of the things you’ve been discussing with the other patients.’ She glanced at Marcus. ‘With some of the staff, too.’ She waited, but I just stared at her. ‘Asking questions about this and that . . . the tragic events of last Saturday evening . . . as though you were still working for the police.’

I was getting seriously cheesed off with hearing the same thing and I really didn’t want to talk about it. I told Bakshi as much. ‘I will say this, though.’ I sat forward. ‘Aren’t we always being encouraged to hang on to who we are? Stuff like that. How important it is to remember the people we were before we became ill? Just seems like you’re saying one thing one day and then you’re moving the goalposts or whatever.’

I noticed Sasha making a note, which pleased me enormously.

‘Normally, that would be the case,’ Bakshi said. ‘But it can be dangerous if the thing you were doing before was what led to your illness in the first place. One of the earliest things you said to me was that it was what happened when you were working with the Met that started all this. The death of Detective Constable Johnston.’ She was looking down at her notes. My notes. ‘The PTSD and so on.’

I had no smart comeback.

I was thinking about Johnno and all that blood coming through my fingers.

It was time for Marcus to chime up. ‘Alice, what Dr Bakshi is saying is that it’s fine to think like someone who works with the police . . . that’s understandable, because you did so for many years . . . but you need to stop acting like you still are.’

Bakshi nodded. Debbie nodded. Sasha nodded.

‘People who retire from the Job are used for all sorts these days,’ I said. ‘Cold cases, all that.’

‘Not when they have been medically retired.’ Bakshi looked at her notes again. ‘Not when they are deemed unfit to ever return to work.’

I was just about ready to smash something, but I didn’t want them to know that. I wrapped my fingers around the edge of the chair and took a few long breaths until I felt calmer.

‘Then there’s the unfortunate incident with the cannabis.’

I smiled, because I couldn’t help myself.

Cannabis, like she was saying phonograph or wireless.

‘If we’re going to move forward at all, I need your assurance that you will not try to use again. It’s my professional opinion that the use of these drugs has been negatively impacting your mental health for a long time and will continue to do so.’

I tried to look shamefaced. I’m good at it, because I’ve had plenty of practice.