‘I know. I just say.’

‘Well, it’s a bit of a peculiar thing to say.’

‘Oh no,’ said Dr Tataryn, putting a hand to her face. ‘Writer of silly stories think brain surgeon say peculiar thing! How will I get over hurt? Is shame too great to live with. I go now, take gun, and blow head from shoulders.’

‘I loathe sarcasm,’ said Beverley, gathering up her coat and bag and standing up. ‘You’re a very rude woman, Dr Tataryn.’

‘Boo hoo,’ she replied, pretending to cry. ‘Stupid writer who like sexing the little boys, she call me rude. I hang myself from nearest lamp-post.’

‘How childish.’

‘Moment you leave, I gather all pills in house and swallow them with whisky.’

‘This is not a conversation that I want to continue.’

‘Police come later and they find wrists sliced open with scalpel.’

‘Oh, shut up.’

Beverley made her way towards the front door before turning around and offering one final salvo.

‘You can tell your son that if he thinks he can make a fool of me, he’s got another think coming,’ she said. ‘After all, I still have his tortoise!’

OVER THE RAINBOW

‘I’m sorry, you did what now?’

Dr Angela Gosebourne placed her pen and notebook in her lap and stared across at Nelson, uncertain whether she’d heard him right. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying, something he’d noticed when he’d entered her office.

‘I quit my job,’ he said. ‘At the school. I told them I didn’t want to work there any more.’

‘I see,’ she replied, nodding her head as she considered this. ‘And when did all this happen?’

‘A few hours ago,’ he said. ‘I was waiting for Mr Pepford outside his office when he arrived. The funny thing is, it was exactly the same seat that I used to sit in when I was a boy and being blamed for being bullied. When he showed up, he gave me his usual look of disdain before saying that he didn’t have time to talk to me as he’d been out with Martin Rice the night before and had a rotten hangover. I told him that I didn’t much care, that I had something to say and he could listen or not listen, just as he pleased, but I was going to say it anyway. That shocked him, I don’t mind telling you.’

‘The worm has turned, it seems.’

‘I’m not a worm,’ said Nelson, frowning.

‘No, I didn’t mean that you are. It’s just a saying, that’s all. A bon mot.’

‘I know it’s a saying. I’m not an idiot. I just don’t like being compared to a worm, that’s all.’

Angela said nothing for a few moments, uncertain whether she should congratulate herself on instilling some much-needed confidence into her patient or whether she should throw him out for his rudeness. She really wasn’t in the mood for this today. Not after what she’d just discovered.

‘My apologies,’ she said finally. ‘So what happened then?’