After arranging a first-thing meeting with Alison for the next day, the intervening hours served only to ratchet up my anxiety. The consequence was a largely sleepless night, spent running through a series of hypothetical conversations with Alison, all of which ended with her screwing her thin features into an expression of utter disbelief. When I did eventually drop off, at around four a.m., my sleep was fitful and disturbed by dreams of bedding down in a potpourri-filled Mini, whilst neighbour Patrick plastered the windscreen with parking tickets.

It was no surprise, therefore, that as I entered Alison’s office at eight forty-five the next morning, the first thing she said to me was, ‘You don’t look very well, Edith. Have you slept?’

Luke had asked me the very same thing – although with a higher expletive content and a reference to drug addiction – fifteen minutes earlier, and I was just grateful that no one else was yet around to echo the sentiment that I looked, as Luke had put it, like shit.

‘I’m fine,’ I said to Alison, as I joined her at the conference table. ‘It’s just a cold, or an allergy, or something.’

She didn’t question the explanation, instead merely extending her hand towards me, palm upwards, as an indication that I should continue speaking.

Alison being neither a touchy-feely nor a chatty person, I judged it best to spare her any mention of the personal distress which was at that moment welling up inside me; the pain of having misjudged and hurt others, the fear of being judged irrational and unprofessional. Instead, I inhaled deeply and cut to the chase.

‘Before Ruby left the practice, she confided in me, as a friend, that she had made a complaint against Cameron regarding inappropriate workplace behaviour,’ I began, reciting the opener which I had mentally prepared between the hours of midnight and four a.m. that morning. I had no clue what I was going to say after I had finished said opener, nor what Alison’s response to it might be, but I comforted myself with the fact that, for the time being at least, I sounded relatively calm and in control.

‘Ruby told me that, after talking to you, she had accepted an apology from Cameron and, despite still feeling aggrieved, had decided not to take things any further. She asked me to keep the matter confidential – which I did – but it has inevitably impacted negatively on my attitude towards Cameron, both professionally and personally,’ I continued, the steadiness of my tone belying an internal gastric and emotional churning. ‘I thought it best, therefore, to share with you how I felt, with a view to finding a way forward regarding my working relationship with Cameron, which is currently not, as I think you have realised, as effective as it might be.’ I concluded my speech, clenching and unclenching my shaking hands beneath the table.