I look down at my faded jeans and grey hoodie and realise I don’t quite fit the surgical mould. I curse Wolfgang Dietrich and his suggestion of a ‘casual meet-up’ and realise I should have dressed more formally.

‘I’m here to meet Dr Dietrich,’ I say, my confidence faltering. ‘I’m Dr Katarina Holliday—from Australia.’

Understanding dawns on his face. ‘You’re Katarina! Katarina from Sydney!’

‘Yes!’ I nearly hug him.

‘Yes, yes. You know Jack!’ The man reaches forward and shakes my hand enthusiastically. ‘I’m Tomas Johanssen. Very good to meet you.’

‘Johanssen, like the 2014 paper on glioblastoma?’

He laughs. ‘That’s nothing too important, believe me.’

I admire how humble the Swedes are.

He leads me into a room where there are more men in white scrubs having an animated discussion over cups of black coffee. Everyone stops talking to stare at me.

‘Wolfgang, I have found Katarina from Sydney!’ Tomas says. ‘Jack has sent her to us!’

A man with sandy blond hair steps forward, smiling.

‘Hi,’ I say, then remember. ‘Sorry—tjena!’

His smile turns into a laugh. My irritation melts away and I immediately warm to him. He turns to the rest of the white scrub brigade, who are also chuckling.

‘Jack has taught her well! Tjena!’

We shake hands. His eyes are bright blue, and the smile reaches them. Wolfgang Dietrich looks as if he doesn’t take life all that seriously, though I know he must, given the kind of work he does.

‘Katarina from Sydney! You made it!’

‘Well, eventually,’ I tell him as he motions for me to sit down. ‘Your directions were hopeless!’ I start to pull out my research folder, but all he wants to talk about is Jack Prince.

‘Has Jack told you we used to go to the museum all the time?’

‘Um, well …’

‘It was great.’ His expression is animated; it’s clear he has fond memories of his time in Sydney. ‘We used to go there to look at his latest acquisitions, and then out for drinks, then sometimes we operate. And his house! Have you seen his house?’

I’m not sure how to tell Dr Wolfgang and Co that in Australia interns don’t socialise with their consultants and that our main interactions take place on ward rounds or in the operating theatre. Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to need an answer, as he’s lost in his reminiscing.

‘And his yacht! Tomas!’ Wolfgang looks over at Tomas. ‘Remember his yacht?’

Tomas, it turns out, has also met Dr Prince, and is as impressed as Wolfgang.

‘Surgeons make no money here,’ Tomas tells me as I am poured my third cup of black coffee. ‘Not like Jack.’

Another man in white scrubs joins in. ‘After I met Jack, I really wanted to move to Sydney to have a life like his, but my wife wouldn’t let me.’