Muffled, I can hear Margaret’s voice next door, sounding stressed out, sounding weary. I slide out of my seat and join Charlie on the floor. Raising my voice to cover Margaret’s conversation, which I know I’m not supposed to overhear, I say, ‘Okay. Remind me where we are.’

‘Okay, well,’ says Charlie, ‘my counter is here because I went up the ladder, and now you have to roll and then see where you land.’

‘Oh yes,’ I say. ‘That’s right. Of course.’

I can still hear Margaret’s voice. It’s louder now, more tense. ‘Fetch the Section Twelve doctor … well then, the police …’

Perhaps there’s an emergency; a client in crisis. The last thing she wants on a Friday afternoon. Maybe it would have been better if Margaret had gone outside so I couldn’t hear, but it’s so cold out there. It’s cold enough in the flat. I need to turn the heating up. I take the die and shake it hard in its plastic cup, trying to make as much racket as I can. When it rolls out, I’ve thrown a six.

‘Wow!’ says Charlie. ‘That’s the best!’

But I can see I’m going to land on a snake. My kitchen door opens and Margaret comes back through. She sits down again on my sofa, wincing. I wonder if she suffers pain in her joints, on top of everything else.

‘I’m very sorry about that,’ she says. ‘Where were we?’

I push myself back up off the floor, ignoring Charlie’s small cry of disappointment. ‘You were asking about eating. And sleeping.’

‘Oh yes.’ Margaret frowns. She really seems to have lost the thread of our conversation.

The phone in her hand buzzes with a text. She glances at it and frowns again. My file is back on her lap, but she hasn’t reopened it. She looks exhausted, and this appointment has already started late.