The woman climbed in beside me, tossing her bag, and my history, on to the back seat. Without a sign to the attendant party she started the car and we travelled away, out of the hospital grounds, distance suddenly appearing between us and the only home I had known in God knows how many years. The sun was low and dazzling. Hot air came up from somewhere near my feet - they would burn after a while, I thought. I felt a momentary attack of the nausea I had experienced in the ward office, but it soon dissipated and disappeared. We passed through a town where I saw bright awnings above shop windows, bottles of milk on the doorsteps of damp-bricked houses, children, lorries and cars that made me feel giddy and prevented my eyes from blinking. As we made our way out into the country the woman leaned forward over the wheel, smiling. Her name, she said, was Anna.

Her voice seemed softer than it had in the office. ‘You’, she said, ‘may not be used to people addressing you directly. It’s not your fault. Just put it down to the inadequacies of the institution. Then forget all about the place. Forget how you were manhandled without a word, talked about as if you were some dumb animal. I know your type, Peter, and I know you’re in there somewhere, listening to me, wondering, naturally, what you have been let in for. Where you are going you’ll be treated with respect, and we expect that you will respond accordingly. Your case is not unique, though you may have been led to believe that it is. At One World you will not be a “case”, no, you will be, first and absolutely foremost, a human being, a living, feeling, thinking man capable of all the sweetness and essence that is given to mankind. You will act for yourself, be able to shrug off the nightmare of your past. You need only have the simplest of faith in us and you will be rewarded. We can make you well again, but you must be prepared to make the greatest effort yourself. Work, Peter, work hard, and you will be whole once more.’

It was all too much for me. I fell asleep.