"Well," he says, "you're the doctor. We need something that's serious enough that you can't come into work, but not so life-ruining that you'll never come back."

He pauses a moment, letting go of her solely so he can find the envelope and slip the photos back inside. She can keep hold of the picture of William as long as she wants to; he's half-tempted to get a copy made, just for while she's here. Just in case it's longer than either of them expects. And if it somehow goes back in time with her, an object that shouldn't exist, so much the better.

"Or we could admit that you disappeared, but I don't think we want any police involvement here." As though this isn't complicated enough.