Only one of the toilet cubicles had a closed door. A thought struck Cormac: What if it was people having sex in there? That’s what happened at these trendy, beautiful places, wasn’t it? It was probably two blokes having sex, and he was about to make a bad evening a million times worse by interrupting something and having everyone laugh at him for what a rube he was and how easily shocked.

It didn’t sound like a sexy groan, though. He took a deep breath, finished drying his hands, and called out one more time. “Hello? Are you okay?”

There was a long pause. Then: “Heeelllllppp meeee . . .”

The voice faded away. If this was a prank, it was a very strange one. But also, Cormac recognized the tone of voice. It was exactly what people said when they came into A&E or when he had had to free them from cars or under walls in the field. He’d heard it a million times.

He ducked into the cubicle next to the closed one and, hoping that expensive places cleaned their bathroom floors more thoroughly than cheap places, put his head down to the floor to look up under the partition.

He got an almighty shock: instead of the pair of feet he’d been expecting, a man’s head was lying inches from his, a pair of wide eyes, blown pupils, staring straight at him. It was so dark in there, Cormac used his phone flashlight and could see it already: clammy skin, trembling fingers.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he said. “Right. Hold on. Hold on, we’ll get you out of there.”

There was no room to crawl under the partition; he scrambled out and kicked the door open with one foot, a move he had practiced many times, it being an invaluable part of the paramedics’ arsenal. He also yelled loudly, although he couldn’t imagine anyone being able to hear him over the din of the terrible music and the vulgar self-aggrandizing shouting going on outside.

It was still pitch dark in the loo, though. He dragged the skinny figure through the door and out into the little hallway that led to the toilets. Several beautiful people stared at them suspiciously and stepped over the prone figure, but Cormac wasn’t paying any attention; he needed space and room to work.

“Move! Move!” he shouted. The man was foaming at the mouth and moving into a fit, and Cormac snapped his fingers at the bar staff, who immediately brought him the first-aid box.

“Call an ambulance,” he yelled, but several people already had their phones out. Most were calling. One or two were filming, but Cormac couldn’t think about that just then.

He put the man in the recovery position, opened his mouth, and took off his tie. Then, as the man started spasming, he cushioned his head and opened his top button.