She touched his arm and his skin was dry, pale, papery. His nails needed cutting, his hair needed a trim, he was unkempt and not particularly clean.

He made small noises in his throat as he breathed shallow breaths, but otherwise there was nothing, no response to her touch or any apparent awareness of his surroundings.

‘Are you a relative?’

The nurse was wearing Scholl sandals with wooden soles that clattered as she came in, clatter clatter, clack clack.

‘No, I’m Dr Deerbon, Mr Brown’s GP. Sister rang me to say he’d been asking for me.’

‘Hmm. Not really visiting time, you know.’

‘Is Sister about?’

‘Why?’

Cat took a breath. ‘I’d like to see her – she rang several times so she probably wants a word with me.’

‘Right.’

The girl tweaked the end of the bedclothes, picked up Lionel Brown’s chart, looked at it and put it back.

‘Has he had a wash this morning? He could do with it, and really his bed ought to be made a bit more comfortable.’

‘We’re overloaded and understaffed, we haven’t even got the meds round finished, never mind the laundry. You could do it.’

‘Yes,’ Cat said, ‘but it is very much not my job. I tell you what – you do it, while I go and find Sister Odewe.’

The main ward was chaotic. Cat stepped round trolleys, avoided oncoming posses of doctors trailing medical students, waited until someone was wheeled round her and away, saw a group at the nurses’ station, heads together staring at a computer screen, a drugs trolley standing beside the desk with the key dangling from the lock.

‘I’m looking for Sister Odewe.’

Nobody looked up. Someone said, ‘On her break.’

Someone else said, ‘No, she’s not. Who are you?’

‘Sister Odewe?’

‘I am and these are not visiting hours.’

‘Dr Deerbon. I’ve –’

‘Ah yes, Mr Brown. Have you seen him? He’s on the way out, you know. He was asking for you half the night but he’s sinking.’

‘He really doesn’t look very comfortable, he needs a wash and his bed making. He deserves some attention, however he is.’

‘Have you seen what this ward is like? Fine for you GPs, you’ve all forgotten what it’s like inside a hospital.’ She was marching towards Lionel Brown’s ward, not turning her head.

‘I certainly have not and I know when a patient needs some attention.’

‘Sister, can you –’ She ignored the call and did not break stride. The breakfast trolley was still in the doorway.

‘Now, Lionel, here’s the lady you’ve been shouting for all this time. Let’s sit you up and get you sorted.’

She bent over the bed and froze for a second, before whipping the curtains closed.

Lionel Brown had slumped to one side. His eyes were still closed and there was no longer the rasp of his breathing.