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Back Going Under Save as PDF
Chapters (70)
  1. COVER PAGE
  2. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  3. DEDICATION
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. PART I BIRTH
  6. ONE
  7. TWO
  8. THREE
  9. FOUR
  10. FIVE
  11. SIX
  12. SEVEN
  13. EIGHT
  14. NINE
  15. TEN
  16. ELEVEN
  17. TWELVE
  18. THIRTEEN
  19. FOURTEEN
  20. FIFTEEN
  21. PART II LIFE
  22. SIXTEEN
  23. SEVENTEEN
  24. EIGHTEEN
  25. NINETEEN
  26. TWENTY
  27. TWENTY-ONE
  28. TWENTY-TWO
  29. TWENTY-THREE
  30. TWENTY-FOUR
  31. TWENTY-FIVE
  32. TWENTY-SIX
  33. TWENTY-SEVEN
  34. TWENTY-EIGHT
  35. TWENTY-NINE
  36. THIRTY
  37. THIRTY-ONE
  38. THIRTY-TWO
  39. THIRTY-THREE
  40. THIRTY-FOUR
  41. PART III DEATH
  42. THIRTY-FIVE
  43. THIRTY-SIX
  44. THIRTY-SEVEN
  45. THIRTY-EIGHT
  46. THIRTY-NINE
  47. FORTY
  48. FORTY-ONE
  49. FORTY-TWO
  50. FORTY-THREE
  51. FORTY-FOUR
  52. FORTY-FIVE
  53. FORTY-SIX
  54. FORTY-SEVEN
  55. FORTY-EIGHT
  56. FORTY-NINE
  57. FIFTY
  58. FIFTY-ONE
  59. FIFTY-TWO
  60. FIFTY-THREE
  61. FIFTY-FOUR
  62. FIFTY-FIVE
  63. FIFTY-SIX
  64. FIFTY-SEVEN
  65. FIFTY-EIGHT
  66. FIFTY-NINE
  67. SIXTY
  68. EPILOGUE
  69. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  70. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

‘Sounds great,’ I say.

TWENTY-NINE

twenty-nine

My already excellent mood is only improved by a message from Fabien as I am deciding what to wear to dinner with the surgeons: 32 hours. He’s right, in thirty-two hours we will be seeing each other in Amsterdam.

I can’t wait. After months of telling myself we aren’t right for each other, the fact that I am tingling with anticipation seems to suggest otherwise. I can’t believe what a fantastic time I’m having. The research went well, the Europeans seem to like me, and soon I’ll be having wild sex with an age-appropriate hot man whom I’ve never been able to forget. Sweden, I decide, has been very good to me.

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Two hours later, I’m trying to resist as Tomas pours me another schnapps.

‘Tomas, you don’t know what I’m like when I’m drunk,’ I protest. ‘You have no idea what you’re unleashing.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ Tomas retorts as he hands me a shot glass. ‘You’re an Australian!’

I concede defeat, and down the drink. As they say, when in Sweden …

I see Wolfgang watching me. He looks amused. Astrid glowers next to him, although she seems less fierce than she did yesterday. This, I’m sure, is down to the fact that I’m quite tipsy and have been regaling the gathering with accounts of my regular Friday night activities, which always involve me making a huge fool of myself and waking up not remembering what I’ve done the night before, usually sharing my bed with a pizza box. Astrid is no doubt comforted by the fact that I’m a disgraceful Australian mess and clearly no threat to her.

‘You know, sometimes I dream of Sydney,’ Wolfgang tells me as dinner wraps up and we put on our coats. ‘I dream of the ocean, the sun …’ He sighs, then smiles. ‘Tomas and I are coming to Sydney in a few months. We must see you there.’

‘I’ll have you over for dinner!’ I promise, forgetting in my schnapps-addled state that I barely know how to switch on the kettle let alone cook a passable meal. ‘It’ll be great!’

‘If it would not be too dull for you,’ he teases. ‘Now I know you are used to such adventurous Friday nights. You must find Sweden very boring.’

‘I like Lund,’ I tell him. ‘Even though I’ve only been here for two days, it has really cheered me up.’

‘Were you not cheerful?’ I laugh the question away, but he looks me in the eye. ‘Being a doctor is not always so fun,’ he says simply. ‘I would prefer to be James Bond, for example.’

I’m surprised into genuine laughter. ‘No way! You’ve stolen my idea! I want to be a Bond girl!’