‘Okay. So …’ She leans forward, resting her weight on her elbows, and I instinctively press my back into my chair, bracing myself for the verdict. ‘The good news is that all your tests have come back clear.’

Liz squeezes my hand. ‘Well, that’s good news.’

‘Yes, it is.’ Dr Evans’s eyes don’t leave my face. ‘I would like to refer you for a CAT scan though, just to be sure.’

‘You think it’s a brain tumour?’

‘I think it’s more likely that it’s stress-related, but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t rule out every possibility.’

‘How long will I have to wait for an appointment?’

‘A few weeks. Maybe five or six.’

‘Six weeks!’ Liz says and I shush her.

‘The thing is, Dr Evans, it’s happened twice now. I had another one today. A couple of hours ago. I’d been driving and I can’t even remember getting into my car. I can’t wait six weeks. What if it happens again?’

Dr Evans’s expression becomes grave. ‘I see. Okay.’ She glances towards the window and taps her nails against her teeth. ‘Claire, have you had any other unusual thoughts or seen any other unusual things?’

‘What kinds of things?’

‘Things that wouldn’t normally be there?’

‘Like a hallucination?’

‘Yes.’

‘During my last blackout I saw …’ I can’t tell her that I imagined running over my son. ‘I saw something that wasn’t real.’

Liz gives me a sideways look but says nothing.

‘I see,’ Dr Evans says. ‘And have you ever seen anything you’ve attributed special meaning to?’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Have you ever interpreted something you’ve seen as some kind of sign, some kind of special message, aimed at you?’

Liz sits very still, looking intently at me, and I tug at the sleeves of my shirt. I haven’t told her that I went looking for Billy last night.

‘There have been a couple of occasions when I thought I saw Billy,’ I say quietly, wishing I hadn’t brought my best friend in with me. I hate her seeing me like this. She must think I’m cracking up. ‘Billy’s my son who’s missing. I saw someone on his bike and I went after him.’

‘Hmmm.’ Dr Evans’s frown deepens. ‘And have you ever heard voices, Claire?’

‘No.’ I shake my head, suddenly agitated. ‘I’m not schizophrenic. I’m not mad. I just … I just don’t want to black out again.’

‘No one’s saying you’re mad, Claire, but you have been under a lot of stress recently and I think a referral to the community mental-health team might help.’

Mental-health team? That sounds scary. Liz leans forward in her chair. ‘How long’s the waiting list?’

Dr Evans grimaces.

‘Worse than the CAT scan?’