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Andrews.” He paused and scrutinised Kathy for a few more seconds, now looking slightly different in a way that Kathy couldn’t explain. “I’ll be in touch,” he concluded and turned to leave.
    “Wait!” Kathy called. “What about my file?”
    “I’m happy to keep hold of it for you for the moment. It might help me to be better at my job,” he answered then smiled a not-unfriendly smile and left the cubicle.
     

Chapter 3
    After spending so long complaining about the noise in the ward, Kathy actually missed it when it was gone. As annoying as it had been, the nothingness it left behind was far more difficult to cope with. And then it was suddenly deemed nighttime and the other women, who had managed to get their hooks into her about leaving an imaginary, abusive husband, all suddenly went to sleep. The East-end chattering on the TV of the woman beside her had kept her occupied for a while (she didn’t have the money to buy credit for her own TV), but even that had stopped now and a funny kind of silence ensued. It was a silence that the nurses tried to preserve with their hushed laughter and whispered complaints, but the more they tried to be quiet the more impact every sound had and each noise slashed through the room and rattled Kathy to her core. Each snore, sniff, fart, cough, and wriggle from the beds around her was similarly amplified by the enforced bedtime and even if Kathy were exhausted, which she clearly wasn’t, it would have been difficult to sleep. Although a dusky veil of grey was now hanging over the ward as all of the blinds were drawn, it could only have been about 9 p.m. Kathy hadn’t gone to bed at 9 p.m. since she was ten, and even then she would sneak a comic under the duvet with a torch. What was she going to do with herself until they chose a time for her to get up—which would probably be some silly kind of made-up morning time like 5 a.m., just about the time that she imagined being able to get to sleep?
    At home she went to bed anytime between 2 a.m. and not at all. She had got into some interesting habits since breaking from her job. She would always get up at a reasonable hour, though, because there was always so much to do and it wasn’t going to wait for her to catch up with lost sleep. The jury was out as to whether she missed the nine-to-five grind. There were certain clients that she definitely missed. As she snuggled down into the blankets and gave a good show of being a model patient, she allowed a few of them to parade through her mind. The one that she would never forget was a young man, Tom, who had lost both of his parents in a house fire when he was a child. The biggest tragedy was that the fire was his fault. He was only six when it happened and was trying out a cigarette, trying to be just like his dad. He hadn’t known to put it out properly and the only saving grace of that fateful night was that he had managed to get out alive. He lost everything and had to carry the burden of knowing that it was his fault, but he was so memorable because she was able to make a difference to his life. They worked together for years, talking, playing, drawing, crying, and growing, and he emerged with his head held high. He would never be able to fully absolve himself of blame or accept the loss of everything he loved, but because of their sessions he had a chance of leading a productive life. No, Kathy corrected herself, it was more than that; he would thrive because of their time together. He had even talked about how he could help other people who had had similar experiences to him and he was building a life for himself. As to where he was now, Kathy had no idea.
    He’s probably in a gutter somewhere, the little negative voice in her head informed her, which she always tried so hard to drown away with positivity. But thoughts like this had gathered momentum since her work with people like Tom had ended, after she started getting more and more clients with problems that were