‘Looking forward to it,’ he says, before striding from the room. I follow him to the side door, my eyes staying with him as he opens it and steps out into the alleyway.

‘Anna,’ I say, moving behind the reception desk, leaning in close to her so the waiting client doesn’t hear.

‘Yes, Margot.’

‘Can you do me a favour and discreetly follow Joe to his car?’

‘Now?’

‘Yes, now. He’s just left,’ I say quietly but perhaps a little too firmly, because when she stands her seat falls back, clattering against the floorboards. ‘Please find out the make and colour of his car. Stroll past like you’re getting a coffee.’ I turn back to my next client. ‘Sorry,’ I say, louder now. ‘Come on through, Willow.’

She looks up from her phone, offers me a sad smile then rises, following me into my office. Willow’s father was caught messaging one of her schoolfriends a couple of years ago and she hasn’t been right since. We talk for an hour but I can’t concentrate. I find my mind wandering back to my previous session with Joe. I make notes and ask questions, trying to focus on Willow, but the moment the session ends and she leaves I find myself striding towards the lobby, butterflies beating hard in my chest. Anna looks up, indifferent. She holds a yellow Post-it note out towards me. Written on it are two words. One is “White”, the other is “Toyota”. It’s him.

Chapter Eleven

ELEVEN

I CALL AN old mentor, Paul, who has always helped me with difficult clients. He’s been a psychologist for almost forty years. I explain the situation to him. ‘My advice would be to drop the client. Termination on grounds of a conflict of interest. Make a note that he reminds you too much of someone, and pass him on. Enhance security at your practice.’ It sounds easy enough, but I know it’s not so straightforward. Since Peter I’ve not broken a single rule; I’ve always followed protocol to a fault. But I’m skating on thin ice.

‘Is that … possibly malpractice? He’s not vulnerable but I have a duty— ’

‘You have a genuine concern and no medical board could ever prove that you don’t have a conflict of interest. Or perhaps declare some countertransference you can’t overcome. Say he reminds you of a bad ex.’

‘Alright,’ I say. ‘And could I involve the police?’