‘Yeah, I guess.’ I looked at the half-open door. Eyes on me, she reached behind with her left hand and pushed it to so that it was only ajar. ‘Thanks. How long was I out for?’

‘All day. You were admitted early this morning. It’s Friday night now.’ She checked her watch, adjusted her lab coat. She was nervous, working out what to say next. ‘It’s bloody mayhem out there. And I’m not even supposed to be on call tonight.’

Neither of us spoke for a moment. The sounds and shouts of frenetic work being done further down the ward percolated into the room. I calculated how quickly, quietly, I could incapacitate her. She stepped closer. Taking out the police guard would be easy, too. But that was a last resort – and, as yet, as unnecessary as it was undesirable. If I made it past the exit – which was a big ‘if’ – getting any further in the south-east of England with no support and no kit would make outrunning the Gardaí look like a walk in the park. No: if I was going to jump, it had to be clean. Doctor Rose was the perfect springboard. I relaxed and let my shoulders slump.

‘So,’ she asked, ‘the “avenging angel”. What’s that all about?’

‘I really was gabbling.’ I rubbed my face with my hands. ‘I’m guessing you reckon you should have got me a head shrink, not a head CT?’

‘I’m not guessing anything. I know you’ve had a very traumatic experience.’ She sized me up and clicked her tongue, considering, perhaps, how much of her bedside chat I’d heard earlier. ‘You might feel all right in yourself, but a shock like that – falling into cold water, or exposure – that can make your mind play tricks on you.’ She paused, casting around for the right words. ‘Your wrists … I mean …’ She paused again and then asked what she really wanted to know. ‘What should I call you? What’s your name?’

‘It doesn’t matter what my name is,’ I said.

‘Well,’ she replied, ‘it matters to me. And I’ll bet it matters to whoever it was you were asking for in the ambulance, too.’ She was hyper-alert. Night after night of dealing with junkies and drunks kept her on her toes. But she was softening. ‘And for the record, I don’t think you need a shrink. I think you need rest, and plenty of it.’