Patient files lay to her right, the clock was ticking, the sounds of the clamour in reception reached her ears. Yet, she sat unmoving, the heels of her hands pressed to the lids of her closed eyes, forcing back the tears she knew were imminent.

Gordon obviously didn't hold any confidence, and belief in her. He constantly questioned whether she could cope. Even then, in her office, she said she was fine to carry on the morning as normal, yet he still insisted on doubting her. And then his words from the night before... Wanting to know what was 'wrong' with her. But not wrong in an emotional way, but wrong in a fundamental sense. He thought she was 'wrong' to the very core of her being, she wasn't 'right'. He'd said she wasn't 'normal', if there ever was such a thing, yet he wished she was. And, the most devastating thing of all, he'd told her he didn't think he could love her anymore.

She was fast losing everything because of the mystery person who kept plaguing their lives. Yet could she completely blame him? She didn't believe she changed so much. Perhaps Gordon was only just realising who she really was.


The police arrived at the hospital mid-morning. They inspected the office, interviewed Jill once again, and asked some of the hospital staff questions. They finished, however, saying there was not a lot to go on. There were no sightings of whoever had caused such destruction. Neither Jill nor Gordon were surprised the intruder had gone about his attack unheard. The part of the hospital where the offices were situated was usually deserted at night; any activity would be situated in the wards or casualty.

In addition, the fingerprints were none conclusive; the amount of people passing through Jill's office- staff, patients, visitors- made it difficult to discern the prints of someone who had permission to be in there, from someone who didn't. And besides, they had cautioned, the intruder had likely been careful to cover his tracks.

And so it was that Jill left the hospital that evening with less hope than ever before that her tormentor would be caught. Her office was still a mess. She'd spent sometime during her lunch break tidying it, salvaging what she would, but being forced to throw away a great deal. Ken and Alun had disposed of the examination bed for her. The one they'd brought up from the basement would serve as her new one. Some of the books were replaceable, as was the mirror and her desk chair. The painting from her wall, however, was not, and neither were the ornaments on her desk that some of her patients had given her.

Gordon had caught her as she left the hospital, gently reminding her that he had agreed to go out for a quick drink with Jeff, though offering to cancel if she'd prefer. Jill, of course, had refused, biting back with more force than she had intended that she didn't need him to babysit her.

So she arrived at home alone at around seven o'clock, relieved the nanny, cooked for herself and ate whilst helping the children with their homework, and spent some time with them before putting them to bed. She then cleaned the kitchen, scrubbing more vigorously at the work tops than usual, for once glad of the distraction it provided her; normally there was nothing more she hated after a long day at work than it being her turn to do the weekly clean of the kitchen or bathroom. She glanced frequently at her watch, seeing the minutes tick away until yet another hour passed. Her worry, which or course was unusually heightened since the threats was turning into panic. Gordon had said it would be a quick drink, yet it had gone midnight and still he hadn't returned.