My eyes snap open. Someone has a hold of my foot. I try to kick out, my body slick with sweat, but I can’t move my legs. My heart leaps into my mouth until I realise it’s only the sheets tangled around my ankles. Leaning forward, I pull myself free and I sit up, breathing in slowly and deeply until my pulse begins to slow. I’m OK. I’m safe. But there’s a shuffling from the lounge and panic takes a hold of me again until I remember he’s still here. Sam.

There’s a creaking on the other side of the wall as Sam shifts on the sofa again, and I slot my hand between the spindles on my headboard and press my palm against the cool plaster that separates us.

* * *

‘Morning.’ Sam pads into the kitchen, feet bare and hair sticking up at all angles. He picks up the kettle and shakes it from side to side before taking it over to the sink and swooshing on the tap. I turn over the new mind map I have drawn, face down on the table in front of me, and cradle my now cold mug of coffee. I’ve been up for hours, sifting through my suspicions. Too scared to fall back to sleep. Who left the warning on my fridge? Will they come back? Caffeine jitters through my veins and I fidget in my seat.

‘You look shattered.’ Sam pulls a chair out and I momentarily close my eyes as the legs screech against the floor. ‘Look, Jen. We need to talk. Properly.’ I stiffen at his words and stand up, and something flashes across his face that could be hurt or irritation.

‘It’s not the right time, Sam.’ Whether he wants to talk about the break-in or the baby I don’t know. ‘I need to get ready for the hospital.’

‘How are you feeling about the biopsy today?’ The look of sympathy in his face makes my throat grow hot.

‘Fine.’ But my voice is too bright, and as I stand under the hot pins of the shower I turn the water pressure higher so he can’t hear me cry.

* * *

I can’t remember ever feeling quite so tired. There is a humming in my head and I probably shouldn’t be at work, but Dad’s not picking me up for the hospital until 11.30 a.m. After Sam left for work the flat felt dark and empty and I was jumping at the slightest sound and I didn’t want to stay there alone. But now I’m here, it’s a huge effort to smile at the customers, to reassure them their pets are going to be fine even though I don’t always believe that. Bad things happen.

The surgery door pushes open and the sudden breeze lifts the papers from the reception desk. I slap one hand on top of them before they blow away. The delivery driver wedges the door open and hefts brown cardboard boxes from the back of his van, stacking them in the corner of the waiting room.

‘That’s the last one.’ The driver thrusts a clipboard under my nose and I scrawl my name on his delivery sheet.

‘Goodness,’ Linda says. ‘What are all these?’

‘The drug order.’ But I’ve never seen this much arrive before.

The boxes feel like lead weights as I force one exhausted foot in front of the other until we’ve carried them all through to the stockroom. Linda slices through packing tape with a pair of scissors and we kneel on the floor unpacking the contents. As we finish Linda sits back on her heels.

‘Jenna, there’s three times the amount we need here.’ Her voice is terse. ‘I really think you should consider taking some time off. I’m worried…’

‘I’m fine. It’s probably a mistake at the warehouse. I’m sure I emailed through a repeat of last week’s order.’ I scrunch my face up trying to remember, but my mind is full of dark holes. If I’m honest I don’t even remember placing the order at all. ‘I’ll fetch the delivery note from my desk.’

In reception the phone is ringing, a dog is yapping, urine drips from a cat carrier and the smell is strong and sour. I don’t know what to do first. I’m barely holding it together.

‘Jenna!’ Mrs Bainbridge’s anguished cry jars me from my thoughts. She’s staggered through the door. Tears torrenting down cheeks that are grey with worry. Casper is cradled in her arms. I shudder at the sight of the Jack Russell but he’s still. Too still. Ignoring my rolling anxiety, I force myself to take him from her and as I look down at his mouth lolling open, his pig pink tongue and needle-sharp teeth, he begins to swim out of focus.

‘What’s happened?’

Linda’s voice snaps me from my daze and I gratefully pass Casper over to her. Despite being small he felt like a dead weight in my arms.

‘He was like this in his basket this morning. The kitchen was a mess. Covered in diarrhoea. Is he going to die?’ Her voice is tremulous.

‘We’ll do what we can.’

I follow Linda into the treatment room and she lays him on the bench. ‘Are you OK for a minute? I need to finish up with the rabbit next door?’

‘I’ll be fine,’ I say. I’m shattered but I function on automatic pilot as I insert a cannula into the vein in Casper’s leg before hooking him up to a drip. I attach the plastic bag of fluids, squeezing gently until liquid travels down the tube. I call Mrs Bainbridge through. Her lip quivers when she sees him.

‘What’s wrong with him?’

‘We’re not sure until we’ve run some tests. He’s critical but stable now. As soon as you’ve signed the consent form we’ll take some bloods.’ Mrs Bainbridge’s hand trembles as she takes the pen I offer. Her signature is barely legible. I lead her back to reception. ‘It could take a while. You’re probably better off waiting at home.’

‘I want to stay.’

We are still waiting for the results of the tests nearly an hour later. I’ve made her three cups of milky tea that she sips while I hold her other hand, stroking the dry, liver-spotted skin with my thumb.

‘It shouldn’t be too much longer,’ I say, conscious that I need to go soon for my appointment. I’m worried about leaving her.

‘Can I see him?’

‘Let me check.’ I pat her hand.

In his kennel Casper is lying on his side, legs rigid, unseeing eyes glassy.

‘Crash box!’ I call, although I know from looking at him it is too late.

Footsteps pound into the room. When I turn around Linda, Kelly and Rachel are standing silently behind me.

‘He…’ I gesture towards the dog. ‘Poor Mrs Bainbridge. Poor Casper.’ His beady eyes seem to watch me and I drape a sheet over his motionless body. As I stand up again I notice Kelly picking something up from behind the sink.

‘Jenna?’ says Kelly. Her cold, hard stare chills me.

‘What?’

‘I found these.’ She unclasps her hand and there are two empty vials of insulin. ‘You’re the first person to use this room today. Did you spike Casper’s drip? Cause him to fit?’

‘Of course not.’ I swallow hard. Why is everyone glaring at me?

‘It’s no secret you’re scared of him,’ ‘Kelly says.

‘I wouldn’t do this.’ I gesture towards him with my hand.

I wait for Linda or Rachel to stick up for me, but they don’t.

‘We’ll run some more bloods,’ Linda says frowning.

‘It wasn’t me.’ I’m stricken at the thought I could make such a stupid mistake. Except how can it be a mistake? There’s no way insulin should have been anywhere near the drip. It was deliberate. I’m tired and confused but even factoring in the cloudiness my medication causes, I wouldn’t have done this. I just wouldn’t. I tally up the things that have gone wrong since I returned to work. Missing orders. Over orders. Wrong doses. Anger builds and I’m swathed in a fog of fury as suddenly everything falls into place.

‘It was you.’ I jab Kelly in the chest with my finger and she staggers back. ‘Trying to make me look bad. Lose my job so you could have it. You… you fucking bitch.’ I shove her. Her head thwacks against the wall and her eyes widen with shock and pain. I spring towards her but Rachel grabs my arm, fingers digging hard into my wrist.

‘Stop it, Jenna. Kelly wouldn’t do that.’

Shaking Rachel free I round on her. ‘Was it you then? You were on the computer on Sunday when I arrived. Have you been messing with my orders?’ I’m out of control, I know, but I can’t calm down. ‘It’s no secret you’re broke. With your drunk dad and brother to support. If I was sacked you’d get to keep the senior position’s wages. Or is it Sam you’re after?’ He’s told me about your cosy conversations behind my back.’ Words pour from my lips, toxic and acerbic, as anger bubbles in my chest like acid.

‘Thanks, friend. I’ve been the one covering up your mistakes.’

I open my mouth to respond but Linda speaks. Low and quiet.

‘I think it would be best if you went home, Jenna.’

‘Linda, you surely can’t believe I’ve done this? You’ve known me for years.’

‘I don’t know what to think, but I’ve a surgery full of patients, a dead dog to explain, and my nurses screaming at each other. I’ll talk to you all when you’ve calmed down and we have Casper’s blood results, but in the meantime, Jenna, in light of your attack on Kelly, I’d like you to leave.’

‘I want to be the one to break it to Mrs Bainbridge.’ I know how upset she’ll be.

Linda glances at Kelly. She’s clutching the back of her skull with her hands. I didn’t push her that hard.

‘You can go out the back way,’ Linda says.

‘Fine.’ I shove the door open. It bangs against the wall, and after grabbing my bag, I storm out of the fire door.

I walk briskly at first but gradually the waves of adrenaline recede and my pace slows. Have I lost my job? Anxiety rises, harder and faster this time. Have I lost Rachel? There’s nothing as corrosive as suspicion. It’s eating away at me from the inside out. Rachel wouldn’t have done this. Would she? But mistrust gnaws at the pit of my stomach. Rachel didn’t deny it, did she? But then another thought occurs, slamming into my chest, stopping me in my tracks. What if it was me? There’s no denying how many things have slipped my mind lately. I press the heels of my hands against my forehead, fingertips digging into my scalp as I try to reconstruct the last hour, but from the moment Casper came in everything is hazy like it happened long ago. I’m sure there was just saline in Casper’s drip but I can’t be absolutely certain. Right now I feel as though I can’t trust anyone. Not even myself.