My daughter is thirteen years old and she is getting on with it, and her father is standing in a hallway at ten at night looking at a curtain.

That is not a tragedy.

Dr.

Sesay has been very clear with me that it is extremely common and that it is workable and that it is mine to work on and not my daughter’s job to fix.

But it is the honest last thing in this account, and I would rather put it down than hand anybody a picture of a house full of light.

There were twenty adults on that property on the twelfth of October and nineteen of them stood and watched, and one sixteen-year-old picked up a phone twice in four minutes, and an emergency physician fourteen months into a job in a town he had no ties to ticked a box he was required by law to tick.