Even then, I still felt like I was in with a chance, until they read out an email from Andy. I’ll have a lot more to say about him later on, but all you need to know for the moment is that Andy’s the bloke I’d been in a relationship with until six weeks earlier, when I’d smashed him over the head with a wine bottle.

He was worried about me, that was the gist of his email. He wanted the doctors and the judge to know how very concerned he was, following a phone conversation with me a few nights before, when I had allegedly told him I still suspected he was not who he said he was. When I got hysterical and said that I wouldn’t hesitate to hurt him if I needed to defend myself against him or any of the others.

She still believes all that rubbish, he said, the conspiracy stuff.

She threatened me.

There was a bit of shouting after that was read out, I can tell you. Crying and shouting and I might have kicked my chair over. While the judge was telling me to calm down, I was telling her that Andy was full of it, that I’d never said any such thing and that he was gaslighting me like he always did. Making it all up because of what had happened the last time I’d seen him.

The bottle, all that.

Anyway, to cut a long tribunal short, I walked out after that and it wasn’t until about twenty minutes later that Simon found me and told me the decision. They would send it in writing within a few days, he said, along with information about when I could apply again, but I’d already decided that I wouldn’t bother. Nobody enjoys repeatedly banging their head against a wall, do they? Well, except Graham, who likes it so much that he has a permanent dent in his forehead and they have to keep repainting his favourite bit of wall to get the blood off.

That afternoon, after the tribunal, when I’d calmed down a bit and had some lunch, I was sitting with Ilias in the music room. I was wearing my headphones even though I wasn’t actually listening to anything. Sometimes I am, but if I’m honest, most of the time the cable just runs into my pocket. It’s a good way to avoid having to talk to people.

Ilias waved because he had something to say so I sighed and took the headphones off. Waited.

‘I’m glad you’re staying,’ he said.

‘I’m fucking not,’ I said.

Someone started shouting a few rooms down, something about money they’d had stolen. Ilias and I listened for a minute, then lost interest.

‘Do you want to play chess?’