‘What’s up?’ She closes the magazine and twists round in her seat so she can get a better look at me.

‘I was just …’ I lower my voice. ‘Just trying to decide what to do about the photo album.’

‘Do you want me to drive you to the police station, after we’re done here?’

I shake my head. ‘I need to talk to Mark about it.’

‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’

‘No, but what if there’s a completely innocent explanation for it? Mark’s always going on about how he’s the villain and if I go straight to the police that’s exactly what I’m doing, isn’t it? Painting him as the villain without giving him the chance to explain. I don’t even know if it was Billy who blacked out the photos.’

‘Who else would do that?’

Kira, I think, but don’t say. I hate myself for even considering what Stephen said about Mark and the fact that there’s a young girl who walks around our house in various states of undress but it’s there – it’s rooted in my brain and it’s not going away. I am ninety-nine per cent certain that Stephen made that comment because he’s a shit-stirrer, but what if I’m wrong? What if Mark did say or do something inappropriate? I don’t want to believe it. I won’t let myself believe it but someone vandalized those photos and I need to see the look on Mark’s face when I show them to him.

‘Mrs Wilkinson?’ Dr Evans sticks her head around the door.

‘That’s me!’ I gather up my bag and cardi and hurry towards her.

‘This is my friend Liz,’ I say as I draw closer. ‘Is it okay if she comes in with me? For moral support?’

‘Of course.’ Dr Evans gestures for us to follow her into her office. ‘We’re in here.’

As she rounds the desk and Liz sits down in one of the patient chairs the words spill out of me like water from a dam. ‘Thank you so much for fitting me in, Dr Evans. I know you’re busy and my appointment wasn’t for a couple of days but I had another blackout and—’

‘One second.’ She holds up a hand and glances at her screen. ‘Mrs Wilkinson. Claire. Can I call you Claire?’

I nod.

‘Sorry for interrupting, Claire. I just want to get up to speed.’ She twists round to face her computer, frowning as she scrolls down the screen. ‘Okay.’

She turns back. ‘So you’re here for the results of your recent blood test, is that right? You had an amnesiac episode on the sixth of August?’

‘Yes, eight days ago, that’s right.’