The most extraordinary person Cormac had ever seen was standing in the doorframe. Was larger than the doorframe, Cormac realized. At least six feet, with big, burly shoulders; a huge swath of beautiful shiny, long black hair braided around her head; a fully made-up face, including pink and yellow eye shadow and vast amounts of sticky pink lip gloss—all balanced over an extremely roomy pair of blue scrubs and a pair of pink glittery trainers.

“Hello!” said the voice with a broad Estuary accent. “Ooh! She didn’t say you were a fittie!”

Cormac considered himself a fairly easygoing character on the whole, but he wasn’t the least bit sure where to look.

“I’m Kim-Ange,” continued the creature, entering the room. “She didn’t tell you about me? I thought you guys were emailing each other.”

“I’ve . . . sent her one email,” said Cormac.

“I’m not surprised she wanted to keep you to herself!” said Kim-Ange. “We tried to look you up. You know your Facebook profile is absolute crap.”

“Aye . . . I don’t really do Facebook.”

“You don’t do Instagram either! And why not?”

Kim-Ange sat down on his bed in a familiar fashion, even as it creaked beneath her weight.

“Um . . . well, I see most of the people I want to see. And I don’t really see the point of it otherwise, unless you want to show off and all that.”

“That,” said Kim-Ange, “is annoyingly sensible. And misses out on the joy of showing off.”

Cormac shook his head.

“But you’ve heard of the internet? They have the internet in Scotland?”

“As long as we’ve positioned the ram’s horns in the right direction. So . . . you’re a nurse?”

“No, I just love the fabulous outfit,” said Kim-Ange, looking down at her dull scrubs in distaste.

“Which specialty?”

“Cardiology.”

“Oh, I bet you’re useful. Lot of . . .” Cormac had been about to say that there was a lot of heaving heavy people about, which there was, but realized just in time that this would not be the right thing to say, as Kim-Ange gave him a look.

“Because of my warm and empathetic manner?”

“Um, yes,” said Cormac, blushing bright red to the roots of his sandy hair.

It was just a glance. But Kim-Ange caught it. She was absolutely attuned to being able to figure out whether people were allies or not. Abuse from strangers she could handle—had to, every single day of her life. But sometimes it was nice just to make a friend. She had come in to invite him to a nurses’ drinks party. She almost changed her mind.