‘I suppose.’ Rivka didn’t, however, sound convinced. ‘I hate to burst your Sherlock Holmes bubble, but what are the chances they kept it? If it was a reusable pot, it would be washed and back in service and if it was a disposable one, it’s in the rubbish. The tablets will be in an envelope, signed, sealed and locked away.’

Jodie groaned. ‘Okay, you’re right, of course. But what else can I do?’ A hint of desperation crept into her voice. ‘If I can’t nurse, what will I do? It’s all I’ve ever done.’

‘Talk to your union tomorrow. Be guided by whatever they say, this is what they do after all. Have you looked at the amount of people who go before the NMC panel? Almost a hundred a month and most are given suspensions or conditions of practice orders. You don’t see the cases that are simply dismissed, because their details are immediately removed, but I bet there are a lot.’

‘Mine won’t be dismissed,’ Jodie said. ‘However, those tablets got there and whoever put them there – they were there, and I was in charge, so the blame will be put firmly on my shoulders.’

‘Maybe a condition of practice order then, some medication training–’

Jodie’s harsh laugh interrupted her. ‘Having someone looking over my shoulder for months, doesn’t that sound jolly!’

‘If it means you can stay nursing it will be worth it. You know how much you love your job,’ Rivka reasoned, always the practical one.

Sometimes the voice of reason was what you needed to hear. ‘Yes,’ Jodie said wearily. ‘But it’s not going to be easy.

‘I hate to be trite, but nothing worthwhile ever is. You’ll get through this and I’ll be with you all the way, okay?’

Rivka hadn’t come up with a magical winning formula to make everything all right but she would be there for Jodie, and if things went completely belly-up, she’d still be there, she always was.

‘I know you will, thank you.’ Promising to ring her the following day, Jodie hung up.

She stared at her phone. It made sense to ring her union straightaway but she couldn’t bring herself to have that conversation. Instead, she rang Flynn.

‘Hi,’ he said, answering immediately as if he’d been waiting for her call.

She smiled at the thought, feeling some of the tension easing. ‘Hi, yourself.’

‘How did it go? I bet it was a storm in a teacup.’

‘They fired me.’ If she said the words often enough, she supposed they’d start to feel real. She’d been fired. She waited for his response, expecting disbelief, horror, and words of sympathy, so when laughter pealed down the phone, she dropped it as if it had bitten her.

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