I did not see a patient between the second of June, 2023, and the eleventh of August, 2024. I did audit. I sat in an office at the end of a corridor in a building where every single person knew.
The case closed in the September of 2024. No findings. Not one.
And on a Wednesday in the July of 2025, Hollis Quayle came out of a lift with the unredacted file, because the regulator had finally disclosed it under an order, because a malicious complaint does not keep its anonymity forever.
The complainant is Rhett Mallory.
The second page is a supporting statement from a registered nurse at Thornhill General, signed and
dated.
Yvie Grear.
The timing.
And here is the part that turned it from cruelty into something a court could look at.
I instructed a solicitor about the house on the fourth of May, 2023.
The complaint was received on the fifteenth of May, 2023.
Eleven days.
And what a complaint does to a doctor in the middle of a divorce is this: it puts you in a position where you cannot fight two things at once.
Hollis told me at the time — in the August of 2023, in his own office, and he was right — that if we contested the finances properly it would take eighteen months and would run alongside the regulator, and that I would be doing both while not practising.
So in the February of 2024 I signed.
I signed a settlement that gave my ex-husband the house in Ellery, which I had bought in 2017,
with a deposit from my grandmother, four years before I met him.
I signed it because I could not carry both. That was the entire point of the complaint, and it worked exactly as intended, and it cost two hundred and eleven thousand pounds of equity.
That settlement was set aside in the February of this year on the basis of material non-disclosure and conduct, and the house is being sold, and I will get most of it back.
