‘When you work in a place like Trinity, it’s impossible not to connect with certain patients,’ Chatveer said soothingly, clearly pleased to be comforting the poor widow. ‘I’m just a glorified secretary, and I still spend half my week crying and the other looking at job ads. But, you know, John and Annabel really had something special. He’d sit with her for hours after the end of his shift. They’d just talk or watch Modern Family. They’d tease each other, like old friends. He was so good that way, Kate, but not everyone could appreciate their connection.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Annabel’s son was…’ he paused to choose his words, then lowered his voice. ‘He was a piece of work. Nobody leaves Trinity, at least not in the corporeal sense, and by the time Annabel came to us it was clear she was on her way out. But apparently her son found hospice care too depressing. The whole time she was in our care, he must have visited twice. Three times at the most. Now, I try to be guided through life by truth, love and empathy, but sometimes you just need to grow some balls. He had no problem visiting after she was dead.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘He…’ Chatveer trailed off, then fell silent.

‘What is it?’

‘It’s just, I’m not sure how much we should be talking about.’

‘Holly doesn’t need to know.’

‘It’s not just Holly,’ he said. ‘John didn’t tell you about all this, did he?’

Kate didn’t respond.

‘I’m sorry, Kate, but he must have had his reasons.’

She considered this a moment. ‘The second-last thing John ever said to me was, If we don’t talk about the monsters in this world, we won’t be ready for them when they jump out from under the bed. He kept a lot of things from me, to protect me, but he realised too late that it was a mistake.’

There was a long beat of silence, then Chatveer took a deep, steady breath. ‘Annabel wrote John into her will, Kate.’

She leaned forward on the bed, pressed the phone closer to her ear. ‘Really?’

‘It was a small amount, I’m not exactly sure how much, but when her son got wind of it, he threatened the hospital with legal action, accused the staff of manipulating vulnerable people out of their money. It was all unfounded, of course, but he was furious.’

‘How furious?’

‘Not furious enough to do what you’re thinking, I’m sure,’ Chatveer said. ‘To be honest with you, he had a point. This kind of thing isn’t unheard of in palliative care, especially with the lonelier patients. They have money and want it to mean something, to go somewhere. But it’s unethical. If John had known anything about it while Annabel was alive he would have put a stop to it.’