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‘And do you agree with that summary, Miss Bruckner? I mean, insofar as it states the matter at issue – the substance of your case?’

Pen hesitated, then nodded. ‘Yes, your honour.’

There was a silence. The Honourable Mister Runcie looked far from happy.

‘And the tribunal has no brief to review the terms of Rafael Ditko’s detention – only his transferral from one facility to another?’

‘Your honour,’ said the barrister, looking profoundly sorrowful, ‘Mister Ditko has been involved in incidents of damage or assault at the Stanger Home on five separate occasions within the last year.

There are currently no plans – outside of the usual periodic authorisation process – to review his sectioning and detention. Nobody is claiming that he can safely be released back into society.’

Runcie gave Jenna-Jane a look that was fairly long and fairly hard. ‘Professor Mulbridge, I take it you were not yourself involved in the selection of the tribunal’s members?’

Jenna-Jane spread her arms expansively. ‘Your honour, these things are the province of the local authority – in this case, Haringey.

As far as their internal workings go, I don’t ask and I’m not told.’

The magistrate nodded agreement.

‘Yes. Just so. Still, I have the option of asking, and presumably will be told. On the face of it, it does seem possible that there could be a conflict of interests. I’m keeping an open mind, but I’m going to order a three-day suspension of these proceedings while I look into the selection arrangements and make sure that all proper regulations were followed.

’

He pondered. ‘On the question of power of attorney, that’s an issue that goes far beyond these current events. I can’t rule on the a priori assumption. Even if Doctor Webb has been dealing with Miss Bruckner and Mister Castor as though they had such a power, that does not necessarily make it so in the eyes of the law. I believe you should take legal advice, Miss Bruckner, anigh Brucknd perhaps give further thought to whether representing yourself is the wisest course of action here.

’ He stroked the bridge of his nose, self-consciously. ‘Given that Mister Ditko can’t – legally – give you his informed consent while he’s sectioned on mental health grounds,’ he mused, ‘you’ll almost certainly have to make an application through a higher court . . .’

Pen looked distressed. ‘But your honour-’ she interjected.

The magistrate raised a hand to forestall her. ‘I’m sympathetic to your position, Miss Bruckner.