Unsurprisingly, I didn’t really sleep and was up well before Maisie and Tilly, anxious to get out of the house so I could go straight to work and look at Christy Day’s record. By half past seven, we were strapping the kids in the car; breakfast done, packed lunch for Tilly made, teeth brushed, shoes on.

‘You’re sure you’ve got everything?’ Rob asked doubtfully, bending over to kiss Tilly. ‘Have a lovely day, sweetheart.’ He straightened up and closed the door, calling across the car roof to me, ‘you picked up Maisie’s reading bag?’

‘We’re good to go.’ I smiled back at him tightly. Come on, come on…

He walked round to kiss Maisie. ‘You have a good day too, darling. We’ll do something fun tomorrow all of us, shall we?’

‘Minor Mania?’ they both said instantly, and Rob rolled his eyes. ‘Soft play? Oh good. Well, we’ll see.’

He closed Maisie’s door, and I began to climb into the front seat.

‘Hey, hang on.’ He put a hand out to stop me, leant over and kissed my mouth, briefly.

‘Sorry. I’m only rushing because I’m duty doctor today and I want to get in early to get sorted before the chaos,’ I said quickly. Somehow trying to explain why I hadn’t thought to say goodbye properly only made it appear even more significant.

‘It’s OK. Long week, I know. Nearly there, Al. Almost the weekend.’ He gave me an encouraging smile.

We were being so achingly polite it hurt.

I quickly got in the car and barely waved as Rob watched us pull off up the drive.

‘Right, off to breakfast club we go!’

‘Where’s Daddy working today?’ Maisie asked.

‘At home,’ I said, looking both ways and turning left.

‘Who’s getting us from school?’

‘Me, sweetheart. I’ll come and get you from after-school care.’

Maisie slumped. ‘Again? I don’t want to go. Mummy, you won’t ever take off your married rings, will you?’

My heart skipped a beat but, without a moment’s pause, I replied brightly: ‘No, darling, of course I won’t. I promise.’

Well, what else could I say?

We hurried into breakfast club in the nursery attached to the main school, to find several other stressed parents herding their children into the cloakrooms too.

‘Morning Tilly! Hi Maisie!’ said Melissa, one of the other mums I saw regularly at drop off. She was stood behind her son Zack, who was slowly fumbling with his zip. She shook her head at me. ‘So slow’ she mouthed, looking pained, and glanced at her watch. Zack glanced up at her, and she smiled brightly: ‘Keep going, darling, you’re doing really well!’ As my girls wriggled out of their coats, let them slip to the floor and galloped off to the main room before I could stop them, Zack finally succeeded and passed the pesky jacket to Mel before running off to join the others.

‘I hate rushing him all the time, but to get out of here, back to the car park and then get over to the office…’ She stepped back as I bent over to grab the girls’ coats from the floor, then we both hung the stuff up together. ‘When did life get so busy, Ally?’

‘I know. It sucks.’

‘Morning! Morning!’ Another mum, Catrin, burst in, grappling with slipping lunch boxes, a PE kit and two coats. ‘Thank God it’s Friday. I had Harry dressed in a Mike the Knight costume until ten minutes ago when I realised I’d got the date wrong and their castle trip is next week. That is right, isn’t it, Al? I lost the “advance notice of dates for the rest of term” letter the first week back.’

I smiled. ‘The castle trip is definitely next Friday. I’ll Whatsapp you the letter when I get home tonight.’

‘You’re a star, thank you. Right, I’m out of here.’ She shoved everything on pegs then looked down at herself, confused, starting as she realised she’d hung up her own bag too. ‘For fuck’s sake,’ she breathed, looking at Mel and I. ‘It’s going to be one of those days, isn’t it?’

Despite being accosted by one of the teachers on the way out, to sign a consent form I thought I’d already dealt with, I still managed to arrive at work before everyone else, bar Cleo, the practice manager. I said hello to her, disappeared off to my office, started up the computer and logged on. Pulling up Christy Day’s record, I went straight to the cohabitants section, so I could see everyone living at the address and their dates of birth:

I stared at the names, until it dawned on me that I’d got everything completely wrong. Yes, the Days had a daughter, but she was twenty. Too old to be in school. She wasn’t the girl I’d seen.

They did, however, have a seventeen-year-old boy; Jonathan.

He was the Days’ son?

I thudded back in my chair in horror. OK, so he wasn’t underage, which was the main thing – but he was still my patient, and his parents were too.

Jonathan Day.

I had no recollection whatsoever of seeing him full stop at the surgery, let alone one-on-one in this room. I could, of course, check immediately – his notes were a click away. But I was well aware of the guidelines. I needed a legitimate reason to view his patient record, and the second I opened it, the access would be logged, a trail started and questions asked.

I had to close my eyes for a moment to try and take it all in. I was in no doubt about the General Medical Council guidelines for all GPs, which are very clear; relationships between current patients and doctors are unethical. We are expected to maintain professional boundaries at all times and never to exploit the ‘inherently unequal’ balance of power between a patient and doctor. The more vulnerable a patient is considered to be, the more serious the abuse of power, and the greater the threat to my position as a doctor.

Jonathan Day was only seventeen and would be considered a young adult – certainly vulnerable – but as I’d been totally unaware of his identity in Ibiza, sleeping with him couldn’t possibly be a punishable offence. It did, however, present significant problems that I was now going to have to deal with.

I leant forward and put my elbows on my desk, head in my hands, rubbed my temples and across my brow with my fingertips and tried to think.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

‘Bit early for that sort of language, isn’t it?’

I jumped guiltily and swung round to see my practice partner, David, standing in the open doorway, smiling, which quickly turned to a frown. ‘You all right? You look like someone just died.’

‘I didn’t have time to put enough make-up on this morning, that’s all.’

Embarrassed, he smoothed down his tie. ‘Sorry. Have you got five minutes before kick-off?’

I hesitated. ‘Sure. I’ll be through in just a second.’

He looked at me curiously for a moment longer… but I stayed silent, made myself smile brightly and waited for him to go, until he shrugged and disappeared.

First things first. I turned back to Christy’s record. Christine Jane Day.

I took a deep breath and began to type up my notes.

It was a fair and accurate account, except, was ‘verbally abusive’ too strong? But then, she had sworn at me, and I needed to make it clear why I hadn’t examined her, other than giving her a visual assessment. I made no reference whatsoever to her son’s presence – because it wasn’t relevant to anything that had happened, nor at the time did I know his identity.

I exhaled heavily and went through to David’s room, pausing to knock on the open door.

‘Hello,’ he said absently, eyes on his screen and shirt sleeves already rolled-up. ‘Have you had login issues? I’m getting a system error message. I can’t access anything. Bollocks, bollocks.’ He reached under his desk and his screen went black as he turned it off at the wall. ‘When in doubt, switch it off and on. Techies get paid a lot of money to come out and do what I just did. Cross your fingers.’ He flipped it on again and peered anxiously at it. ‘Are you sure you’re all right? You seem stressed to beyond and back. It’s coming off you in waves.’

Deeply dismayed to hear that, I sat down. ‘I do actually need to run something past you that happened last night, just so you’re in the loop.’

‘Thought so,’ he said. ‘Go on then, hit me with it. Oh, this bastard system. Cleo!’ He yelled like a major general. ‘Are we completely down – or is it just me?’

‘Hang on,’ came a shout back from her office down the corridor. ‘I think it’s everyone. Bear with me.’

David looked at his watch. ‘Eight minutes until the phone lines open. God. So, what are you about to tell me that’s going to make this morning even worse?’

I cleared my throat. ‘I did a home visit last night, a woman with D&V. I’d tried to persuade her to come in, but she wouldn’t. I got there, and she was sat in her kitchen with a glass of Champs on the side for me, at which point she tells me she’s made-up the D&V and wants to offer me a job in her new spa, doing Botox and fillers.’

‘Bloody cheek,’ David snorted. ‘Her, not you. Why do I never get house visits where people offer me booze and lucrative private work?’ He pressed the enter button on his keyboard repeatedly. ‘Oh come on!’

‘So, I tell her I might have thought about it if she’d been upfront, but now, not so much, whereupon she tells me I’m a “snotty bitch” and that she thinks she might have made a mistake after all.’

‘Lovely,’ said David. ‘CLEO?’

‘I DON’T KNOW YET, DAVID!’ came back the equally cross bellow.

I continued manfully. ‘Her husband is there, trying to talk me round, but I go to leave and then—’

Cleo stuck her head round the door. ‘It’s the whole system, and we’ve got no Internet connection either.’

‘Fuck, shit and arse,’ said David. ‘Have we been hacked? Is it just us or bigger?’

‘No idea, but can we all just come through so everyone knows how we’re going to handle this and it’s not complete carnage this morning?’

David jumped up, my situation already forgotten, and followed Cleo out to the main reception. Within a couple of minutes, all seven of the GPs, the two practice nurses and reception staff were congregated.

‘We’ve no active records, obviously,’ Cleo explained, ‘so you’ll be pen and paper, and retrospectively updating as soon as we’re back up and running. Reception will tell you who you have for your next appointment when you ring through to say you’re clear from the last. Alex, you’re duty doctor today, aren’t you?’

I nodded.

‘OK, reception, can you draw up ONE list of the emergency slots, keep it at the front desk and block them out as the calls come in? Please make sure you work from the same master sheet so we don’t get any double bookings.’

‘We’re going to need longer appointment times for everyone though, surely?’ pointed out one of the salaried GPs, Megan. ‘If we’ve got no notes and we’re going to be prescribing from the BNF?’

I saw one of our newest receptionists, Jen, mouth ‘what’s that?’ anxiously to one of the other women sharing the front desk with her – Tina – who hadn’t been with us that long herself.

‘It’s the reference book we use for getting the correct dosage or side effects of drugs, that sort of thing. If you don’t have patient records to hand you have to manually look up whatever you’re going to prescribe them,’ I said. ‘That’s all. You don’t need to worry about it.’ They looked relieved and smiled at me gratefully.

‘You’ll just have to do your best to stick to the ten-minute slots, I think, in answer to your question, Megan – and we’ll explain at the front desk when everything starts inevitably running late.’ Cleo was already looking strained. ‘I’ll be around if anyone gets really arsey.’

‘I suppose we’ve got no idea when we’ll be back up?’ asked David, hands on his head. ‘It’s probably another accidental NHS internal send-to-all test email and a million users hitting reply all again, isn’t it?’ He sighed crossly.

‘Well, it could be a massive user error again, yes, or a hack or just a glitch.’ Cleo gestured widely. ‘Who knows? But for now, we need to open the phone lines, and it’s ten minutes until morning surgery, so good luck everyone. I’ll keep you posted.’

The computers stayed resolutely dead, however, and I had an increasingly hellish morning, as already grumpy patients became more and more fed up as we began to run later and later. It got to eleven o’clock and, having got rid of a particularly vile mother who had given me an earful about her daughter with tonsillitis being kept waiting for ‘a disgusting length of time’, I rang through for my next patient.

‘OK, this one is a Shahid Khan.’ Poor Jen sounded really harassed. ‘Fresher at the university, not registered yet. I told him you’d got a slot if he wanted to wait, which he has, and he doesn’t want to say why he needs to be seen. I’ve given him a GMS3/99,’ she spelled it out carefully, tripping up with unfamiliarity, ‘temporary services form to fill out and give you, because obviously I can’t enter him on the system.’

‘OK thanks,’ I sighed. ‘Send him through.’

‘Bev’s going to shout him for me now – I’m desperate for a wee. Sorry!’

I drew a dividing line on my pad under the tonsillitis child’s notes and reached across my desk for a tissue to blow my nose. I needed a glass of water too; I felt mildly dehydrated, having not had enough time to drink anywhere near enough all morning.

On cue, there was the next knock of the door.

‘Come in,’ I said, trying to sound cheery.

I heard the door open, turned round with a ready smile, clutching my tissue, and froze.

Standing in front of me was Jonathan Day.

He was slightly stooped, as if conscious of his height. He raised his eyebrows expectantly as he slowly lifted his head, ruffling a hand through his hair while his face split into an embarrassed smile. For the first time, I got the distinct impression he knew exactly how heartbreakingly attractive he was and was imagining what he was looking like to me; almost posed as if in front of a camera on a modelling shoot. He was in uniform again, but he’d removed his tie and undone his top button, so he looked like any other young professional. Too smart for a fresher, that’s for sure.

‘What are you doing here?’ I could hear the fear in my voice.

He turned and looked briefly over his shoulder, before coming right into the room and closing the door behind him. ‘You know why. To see you.’ His voice was urgent, excited.

My stomach had already shrunk into a small, hard, rubber-like ball. ‘Jonathan, you shouldn’t have come. If anyone sees you…’ My mind had gone three steps ahead to how it might appear that he’d been in my room with me like this, alone.

He flushed slightly with surprise, and then pleasure, at the sound of me saying his name for the first time. ‘I’m not stupid, no one knows who I am. Don’t worry. There’s no trail. I’m Shahid Khan, remember?’ He thrust a blue and white piece of paper at me, his temporary services form. ‘I look like just another patient. Here is the safest place for us.’

Us? An alarm bell began to ring quietly in the back of my mind.

‘But that’s exactly the problem, Jonathan,’ I said urgently. ‘You ARE a patient here. I could get into very serious trouble for seeing you like this in view of… the relationship we’ve had.’

He shook his head. ‘But I haven’t seen you, have I? I already said, no one knows I’ve been here. I gave a false address and everything.’ He pointed at the form; then, when I still didn’t take it, leant over and slid it across my desk. ‘Relax. I had to do something, anyway, because you can’t exactly come to school and you definitely can’t pull that crazy shit again and come to my house like you did last night, Alex.’ He laughed, his voice confident and well spoken, but all I noticed was that he knew my name.

‘Don’t get me wrong, it was amazing to see you,’ he smiled at me suddenly, ‘but they all started asking loads of questions after you drove off. Especially my girlfriend. Even my dad knew something was up the way we looked at each other. I couldn’t believe you took such a big risk.’

What? ‘Wait, Jonathan—’ I held up a defensive hand. ‘I had absolutely no idea you lived there. Your mother requested a home visit for medical attention.’

‘It’s OK, you don’t have to be embarrassed. I was pleased.’ He looked around him and pulled up a chair, so uncomfortably close to mine that his knee was almost touching the outer part of my thigh. I could smell the same aftershave that had been all over my dress the morning afterwards, to the point I’d actually thrown it away in the en-suite bin instead of packing it to take home.

I twisted back in under my desk more tightly so that the plastic arm of my seat blocked our legs from any further direct contact.

‘Mum told me how you got one of your friends to put you forward for a job they’ve got going,’ he continued. ‘That was clever. I’ve been thinking about you too.’ His smile faded. ‘I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind, and I’m really pleased you’ve changed yours. I thought you might, but…’ He shrugged, shyly.

Changed my mind about what? I could feel my panic starting to build. ‘Jonathan, I want to make it absolutely clear that my friend recommended me to your parents without my knowledge. I didn’t come to see you yesterday. I’m your doctor at the practice you’re registered at. There are very strict rules about that sort of thing.’

He looked at me suggestively, then drawled: ‘Yeah, right. Like that bothered you on Saturday night in the club?’

‘But I didn’t know then. We were just two strangers.’

‘What?’ He laughed. ‘No, we weren’t!’

A much louder bell began to sound in my head. ‘You knew who I was when you approached me?’

‘Of course!’ He threw his hands up incredulously. ‘Are we having two separate conversations here?’

I caught my breath. ‘Jonathan, have I seen you before? Here, I mean, as a patient?’

He looked at me, his mouth slightly open. ‘Seriously? You don’t remember?’ He frowned, completely confused, and put his hands up to his hair again, to reveal a very expensive, chunky watch on his wrist. His eyes were wide, but then his features suddenly relaxed again. ‘Shit, Alex, don’t do that to me! I believed you for a minute there.’ He let his arms fall back down heavily – then gave an odd, slight shake of his head as if he were jolting back into reality. ‘Can you stop messing around now?’ he asked. ‘We need to talk.’

‘Jonathan, when we met at the club, did you think I knew who you were? Because I didn’t. You do understand that, don’t you? I didn’t know who you were.’

He exclaimed again and rolled his eyes. ‘OK, OK. You “didn’t know”.’ He mimed inverted commas. ‘I get it, but we still need to talk.’

I started to slide sideways in my chair, as far away from him as I could get, very slowly. So if I’d seen him in a medical capacity… for what? Something general, or more serious? Did he have mental health issues? Was I potentially in danger right now? I squished myself in the corner, turned slightly so I could face him, and said as calmly as I could manage: ‘OK, what do you want to talk about?’

He hesitated at my deliberately measured tone, noting it immediately. ‘Don’t do that doctor voice. I see you in a club in Ibiza, of all places, so I smile. You don’t say anything, but you don’t have to, it’s written all over your face. I walk up, we start kissing. We go back to your hotel. You make it clear what you want, we do it and then the next morning you basically tell me “thanks very much, now fuck off”. I’ve never had a girl do that to me. Girls don’t do that to me. I leave, and I still don’t get it. But, whatever. Shit happens. Except then you’re suddenly standing in my house, because you knew that if you showed up, I’d come and find you afterwards. And I have. I’m here.’ He sat back and threw open his arms. ‘What is it you want from me, Alex?’

I looked at him, frightened. ‘Nothing! I don’t want anything from you!’

He glanced sideways and snorted. ‘Is this some sort of game to you? Bored, married woman seeks attention? I’m not that kind of bloke, sorry. I had a massive row with my girlfriend last night just for looking at you yesterday, so can we cut the crap? Yes, I want to see you again. Very much. Yes, I like you, a lot. Tell me where, and I’ll be there. I won’t say anything, no one needs to know and we’ll just… see how it goes.’

I was astonished; for a moment, completely lost for words. ‘To reiterate, when I saw you in the club on Saturday I didn’t recognise you, at all.’

‘I know that’s not true.’

I was taken aback by his bluntness. ‘OK, well, I’m sorry to hear we disagree, but regardless of what you think, I was completely unaware you were known to me. Having relationships with patients is not allowed when you’re a doctor, Jonathan. Especially a patient who is’, I swallowed, ‘only seventeen.’

He looked at the floor. ‘So like I said, that’s a problem now, but not so much when I was fucking you?’

I jerked back in my chair in shock. ‘Can you please not talk to me like that?’

He shrugged and smiled lazily – all while looking straight at me. I could see exactly why, drunk, I’d not thought for one moment that he was too young, too innocent.

I blinked, completely disorientated by everything that was happening in this, my work room. It was as if I were watching a hideous slow-motion car accident unfold in front of me, while somehow also being trapped in the driver’s seat – the car spinning round in circles, seconds before impact. ‘You know, I think it would be best if you left now, actually,’ I managed eventually. I was shell-shocked. I didn’t know what to say.

‘You want me to leave?’

‘Yes, I do.’

He leant forward and put his hand on my leg. ‘I don’t believe you.’

I pushed it off, horrified at his touch.

He flushed violently at my instinctive reaction, sat up even taller and rapidly drummed his fingers on his legs, before abruptly getting to his feet. ‘OK.’ He reached out and grabbed back his temporary treatment form, scrunching it up and shoving it in his pocket.

Even though he was towering over me, he looked humiliated, and I foolishly tried to make it better. ‘I really am very sorry, Jonathan, that you thought my coming to your house was some sort of signal, but please don’t feel embarrassed. I can see it was an honest mistake.’

That only made it worse. He swallowed, almost painfully, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he reached into his pocket and pulled his school tie out again, before turning, holding it loosely in his hand so it trailed behind him as he quietly left the room.

Somehow that was the worst bit of the whole encounter, because, for all his height and masculine body, the bravado, expensive watches and tattoos, that one action revealed the youth he evidentially still was.

I turned back to my desk and covered my mouth with my hands, elbows resting on the cheap faux mahogany as I stared at the blank computer screen in front of me. I remained paralysed for a few moments, before jumping up and rushing out, walking smartly down the corridor back to the waiting room. I scanned the sea of faces looking hopefully back at me, in case I was about to call their name, but he wasn’t there, he’d gone.

Any relief was short-lived, however. I drew back and pushed through the door into the reception office. Jen, Tina and Bev looked up at me wearily, and Jen blurted: ‘Oh no! Did you ring through and I haven’t sent the next one in?’

Before I could answer, another phone began to ring.

‘Hang on!’ She snatched it up as, simultaneously, a terse voice called ‘Excuse me?’ from the front desk and Tina swore under her breath. ‘I’m JUST coming, Mrs Peters!’ she called out. ‘One minute.’ She pushed past me as Bev looked desperately at the clock. ‘I’m so sorry, Dr Inglis,’ she said to me. ‘Can you wait for whatever it is for five seconds? I HAVE to go to the loo.’

‘Of course.’ I stood back to let her pass.

Tina had her back to me; Jen was scrabbling round looking for something. Thinking she wanted the duty appointments list, I reached over to Bev’s desk and picked it up, offering it to Jen. She shook her head and pointed at Bev’s pen instead.

I passed it across as Jen mouthed ‘thank you’ and started writing quickly. I looked down at the list in my hands of the appointments I still had to come and had already done. There he was, Shahid Khan. What a bizarre name to have chosen. I stared at the only evidence of him having come into the practice – then placed it down and headed back to my desk.

Jen rang through to me seconds later. ‘I’m so sorry. You’re ready for your next person, I know, but we can’t find the list anywhere.’

‘I put it back on Bev’s desk.’

‘Oh, I’m not saying you’ve lost it,’ she said quickly. ‘Sorry. It’s mayhem out here. Anyway, give me a second and I’ll send them through when we find it, or them.’

---

The system came back on about ten minutes after morning surgery finished. By the time I’d done my house visits, come back, dealt with the prescription requests and processed some blood test results, David stuck his head round my door to find me about to start on the sea of paperwork swimming on my desk. ‘You all right, Al? Worst morning for a while, eh?’

I glanced up at him. ‘Yes, it was. David, can you come in for a minute? I need to talk to you.’

‘Ah, yes. You didn’t get to finish your house call story, did you? I’m sorry.’ He came in and collapsed tiredly onto the chair Jonathan had pulled right up to my knee an hour earlier. David was tall too, and the stark reminder of Jonathan sat there, staring, made me shiver.

‘Alex? Do you want to carry on?’

Blinking, I realised David was waiting patiently.

‘Sorry. Things have moved on a bit, actually.’ I took a deep breath. ‘Let’s suppose, hypothetically, one of your colleagues had a one-night stand with a much younger man—’

David started, and sat up a little straighter.

‘And it turns out he’s a patient of hers,’ I continued, looking down so I couldn’t see the expression on David’s face, ‘which obviously she didn’t know at the time – a patient she has apparently also treated in a professional capacity, although she has no memory of that. Let’s also suppose he’s the son of some patients who don’t like her very much and that he turned up at surgery this morning, to see her, because she inadvertently went to his parents’ house last night on call, and he thinks it was some secret signal for them to start something up again.’

There was a moment of silence, and I looked up eventually to see David sat back, his expression grave, hands clasped round the back of his head.

‘So what would you advise her to do, hypothetically?’ I said and gave a nervous, miserable laugh.

‘When you say one-night stand, you mean?—’

‘Sex, yes.’

‘And exactly how old, is “much younger”?’

‘Seventeen.’

‘Oh, Alex.’ He closed his eyes and put his head in his hands instead.

‘I know, I know.’ I found myself near to tears and tried to choke them back.

‘I assume, hypothetically, she made it very clear to him that it was a one-off, something she wouldn’t have let happen in a million years had she known who he was, and how old he was, and that under no circumstances would it be happening again?’

‘Of course.’

‘And he got the message?’

I nodded. ‘He left, embarrassed and a bit angry, but he was under no illusions.’

‘Does this hypothetical colleague of mine think he’ll leave it there?’

I paled. ‘God, yes, I hope so. I can’t see why he wouldn’t. He said that he’d had a row with his girlfriend and his parents had asked questions. He went to the trouble of creating a fake identity to get an appointment with me, so he obviously doesn’t want it out in the open either.’

‘Does anyone else know about this?’

I shook my head. ‘Just you. He screwed up his temporary treatment form, and took it away with him, and the paper list of duty appointments documenting his fake name has gone missing. Nothing was logged, obviously, because the system was down.’

David sat back. ‘He didn’t ask for medical advice. He didn’t give his real name, so one can reasonably assume he would be unhappy about his real notes being accessed. There’s no paper trail, so it’s as good as if he wasn’t here. He’s got the message that it was a one-off. You didn’t know when you slept with him that he was your patient…’ He exhaled. ‘Nothing punishable, as far as I can see. Although now, of course, you must remove him from your list pronto – his parents too. But that’s fine, because you can use their duplicity from last night as the reason for that.’

I lowered my voice to a whisper. ‘I genuinely have no recollection of treating him professionally. I don’t remember seeing him here at all.’

‘Well, you sure as hell can’t open his notes to look, Al. You’re absolutely certain he got the message then? It’s just… you can really do without any love-struck kids hanging around giving people the wrong idea, given your history.’

I could feel my face turning red as I coloured, guiltily. ‘You mean Rob?’

‘Yes, of course. Who else could I have meant?’

‘Rob was a consenting adult, and we’re married now! We’ve been married for eight years!’

‘I’m not disputing it turned out to be the real deal. He was, however, already married to someone else when you both met, here, and you were his doctor,’ David gently, but correctly, pointed out. ‘You saw Rob over a course of appointments – it wasn’t a one-off – and while you were bloody lucky to get away with just a warning after his ex made that “anonymous” complaint against you; it’s still sitting there on the list of Registered Medical Practitioners. So, get this boy off your list now because, frankly, if he shows up to see you again, it’s going to make you look like this is how you pick up men, Al.’

‘Knock, knock.’

We both jumped, David twisting round in his chair, to see Rob himself standing in the doorway, his hand raised and against the doorframe. My mouth fell open. How much had he heard?

Rob reached into his pocket with his other hand and pulled out my mobile, holding it aloft. ‘You left this at home in the rush this morning. I just found it and thought you might need it in case the school called or something, so I brought it down. Bev let me in.’ He looked between David and I. ‘Everything all right?’ His tone was light, but I could hear a very slight edge to it.

David jumped up, smiled warmly and offered Rob his hand. ‘Rob! Good to see you again, mate!’

I winced inwardly. David wasn’t the kind of bloke who could pull off ‘mate’ with any conviction at all.

Rob shook his hand and looked at me silently.

‘We’ve had the morning from hell,’ David said chattily. ‘Systems all down, Internet up the spout, patients kicking off. Still, we got there in the end, thank God.’ He laughed. ‘Anyway, I’ll let you both get on, but as I was just saying, Alex, if you can pick up that man’s record we’ve got to report on, that would be great.’

He looked at me pointedly, obviously thinking that Rob might have heard the last thing he said, too.

‘Will do,’ I said quietly, suddenly exhausted.

‘Cheers, Rob, see you soon, pal!’ He patted Rob’s shoulder heartily and, head down, scurried off to his office, like the White Rabbit.

Rob came in, sat down and slid my mobile across to me.

‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘That was kind of you.’

‘That was a lot of “pal” and “mate” from David. He’s very chipper today considering the morning it sounds like you’ve had.’

‘Just relief that it’s over, I expect. It makes you go a bit giddy and weird when you’re working under high stress like that and trying not to mess up by giving someone something they ought not to have.’ I couldn’t meet his eye.

‘You look shattered.’ Rob reached out and beckoned with his fingers. ‘Give me your car keys and I’ll swap with you. I’ll take the Qashqai back and collect the girls from school – that way we don’t have to switch the car seats over. You take the BMW and come home when you’re done here.’

‘Are you sure?’ I glanced at him gratefully. ‘I don’t want to mess up your work.’

‘You’re not.’

‘Well, thank you.’ There was another pause and I said quickly: ‘I’m sorry that I can’t stop and say let’s go to lunch or something, but I’m not even going to get time for a sandwich today; I’ve got all this morning to catch up on as well as a load of other stuff.’ I smiled apologetically and gestured at the paper mountain.

‘There’s nothing going on that I should know about, is there, Al?’

I stopped short. He waited, and I shook my head.

He appeared to consider that. ‘OK.’ He got to his feet and leant over to kiss me goodbye. His mouth lingered on mine for a moment longer than I was expecting. I’d started to pull back before I realised my mistake. I managed to salvage it, though, and even felt myself starting to respond to his touch.

He broke away. ‘I think we’d better stop there, don’t you? I’ll see you back at home.’

---

I didn’t tell him then and there about Jonathan because I was at work. It wasn’t the time or the place. That’s all. And it’s lunacy to suggest I could – or would – have compromised an entire medical centre to prevent there being any computerised record of subsequent patient appointments that morning, even made-up ones. I was not anticipating Jonathan would come into the surgery, nor did I ask him to. We didn’t have any contact whatsoever after I left his parents’ property. I was only in early to look at and update Christy Day’s record because I was frightened the boy I’d seen at her house was below the age of consent.

Neither did I apprehend and destroy the handwritten appointment list, and I take issue that it’s even being considered an official document. It was barely more than a piece of scrap paper. In any case, I put it back on Bev’s desk. I wasn’t nervous and panicking. I was simply looking at the list to see if he was telling me the truth and been documented as Shahid Khan.

I’m just not that devious. It’s as simple as that.