‘They say you’ve been turning up to see Constance Mortensen, a very vulnerable patient . . .’ He paused and licked his lips. ‘Under the influence.’

Emma was speechless.

‘“Reeking of alcohol,”’ he added, making patronizing quote marks with his plump fingers.

She didn’t move a muscle but a deep blush rushed through her.

‘May I ask who complained?’

‘You see how this doesn’t look good . . . ?’ he said, ignoring her, fiddling about on his laptop. ‘I was prepared to let one incident slip by but they sent me this.’

He turned his computer screen around so that Emma could appreciate the full impact of herself in muted colour lurching across Connie’s room and throwing up in the toilet while Connie, the very vulnerable patient, held back her hair and rubbed her back, and then took her over to the sink and cleaned her up before lying her down on the bed, taking off her shoes and stroking her hair. He had the grace to fast-forward through Emma falling asleep and Connie clearing up the vomit. He slowed it down again as Connie put on Emma’s jacket, shoes and bag and then, bizarrely, performed a little tap routine, all tits, teeth and jazz hands. Connie then tired of this, sat down and began rootling through Emma’s bag, checking her phone, going on her iPad and finally sitting by the bedside until Emma woke up.

It was truly shocking; there was no denying it.

‘I see,’ she said. ‘I apologize profusely. I came to . . .’ She petered out. There was no excuse.

‘I’m afraid, Emma, I’m going to have to take you off the case.’

Emma panicked. ‘Please, Tom. I’m so nearly there with her. She won’t talk to the social workers or the other doctors. If you take me off, she’ll have to start all over again. I know I can get there.’

‘No, Emma, I just can’t.’

‘Please. She needs me, Tom. I’m all she has right now.’

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Yup.’

She thought of him playing Call of Duty, lying here with his duvet in the office. What sort of a profession is this, are we supposed to be superhuman? ‘I understand,’ she said. She would have done the same in his position.

‘Perhaps you should consider a well-earned sabbatical . . . ?’ he said, sounding cheerfully relieved that it had all gone in a reasonably painless fashion.

‘Yup.’ She just wanted out of there. She felt utterly humiliated; up until now hers had been a faultless career. The repercussions of this were too enormous to take in. She stood up and smiled at him. ‘Can we talk another time?’ she said briskly.

‘Of course. Although one more thing – I will need your pass,’ he said, ‘before you go.’

‘Right. I’ll hand it over. I just have something I have to do. I’ll return it later today.’

‘I think it’s best you give it to me now,’ he said.