I phoned at 10am to see if Rodney was in his room at the Hayward Manor, which I knew as one of the largest and most notorious of the downtown hotels. I didn’t hold out much hope of speaking to Rodney – the rooms don’t come with a phone – or much else for that matter. So I was surprised when the desk-clerk immediately said “oh, he’s sleeping”. I said to tell him, when he wakes up, that I would come and see him in a few hours.

It was almost 2pm when I got there. I asked at the desk and the clerk said (again) “oh he’s sleeping”. “How do you know”, I asked. “Over there. Been asleep about four hours. Can’t wake him.”

Now the lobby has seen much better days – many years ago. Today, it can best be described as spartan – and vast – devoid of furniture except for one decrepit armchair up a few steps. And there slumped Rodney.

“I’ll give it a try”, I said, and went up to him. The sleep of the dead. As a matter of fact, for a few seconds I wondered if he was. But it was the next deepest sleep – crashing from drugs. I shook him, he stirred and groaned. I shouted who I was and where from and that I needed to speak to him. Gradually he regained what for Rodney passes as consciousness – it was all I was going to get, anyway. He managed to sit up and I said could he sign some forms. “Sure”. I guided his hand to the respective place on the page and he made a spidery scrawl.

We repeated this faltering exercise the required four times and he started to slump again. His food was sitting at the desk so I said “You want some lunch?” The idea of food somehow penetrated and he opened his eyes wide for the first time. I gave him the bag of food, he actually staggered to his feet and reeled off up the corridor – I hoped in the general direction of his room.

I’m supposed to make sure that clients know what they are signing. Rodney didn’t even know that he was signing. But in the bureaucratic interests of correct paperwork and, more importantly, in the humane interests of a full stomach, I decided that enough was enough. I had fulfilled the intent, if not the letter, of the rules.

Of one thing, I’m sure. Rodney had no idea I had been there.