It was Edwina, summoning me upstairs. Sid Kopf was putting something back in his filing cabinet when I walked in. On the wall directly above him, the muted flatscreen TV was showing what the Bank Holiday weather had in store for London. Cloudy, with a chance of sun. I hadn’t quite noticed how big Kopf’s office was. It seemed to stretch the length of the building, as if three rooms had been knocked into one. At the far end, I spied a running machine. ‘Take a seat,’ Kopf said without looking at me. I went to the same chair I’d sat in before, opposite his desk. For a moment I had my back to him. I knew he was observing me. I could feel it. I’d developed a sense for being watched when I was at the Lister. The wardens used to monitor us surreptitiously, from a distance, looking out for signs of regression. Their eyes were like tiny, fleet-legged insects, scarpering across my skin before I could catch them.
