‘So I sat on the edge of her bed and I just cried and cried. And that doctor, George, he must have had so much other stuff to do, and patients to see, and whatever.’ Winnie’s voice wobbles slightly. ‘But he just sat with me on the bed for, God, it must have been close to an hour. He didn’t say anything, he just sat with me.’

‘What a decent guy.’ I feel a sense of gratitude for Dr George, whichever hospital and whatever job he’s working in now.

Winnie looks over at me, as if suddenly remembering I’m next to her. ‘Yeah, he was. He was so kind to me. I’ve never forgotten it.’ She runs her hand over the sand. ‘Anyway, a few days later, when everything had calmed down a bit, I went back to the hospital to find him to say thanks, but he wasn’t there.’

‘Where was he?’

‘He hadn’t shown up for work so his girlfriend went to look for him.’ Winnie makes an odd sound, like a repressed sob. ‘He’d overdosed on some kind of drug he’d taken from the ward.’

I push my fingers into the warm sand, feeling the grains slip between them.

‘He killed himself,’ Winnie says, staring out into the endless blue of the ocean. ‘He must have been thirty? Thirty-two? And I thought, what on earth could have been so bad that he went and did something like that? My mum had just died, and my world had collapsed, but I still wasn’t anywhere close to wanting to … you know.’ Her voice trails off.

‘Maybe he had some other stuff going on,’ I suggest. ‘Maybe he had family problems, or debts—you never really know.’

‘Maybe …’ She doesn’t sound convinced.

‘Look, none of us are going to kill ourselves, all right?’ I jump up. ‘I know we drink too much and love whingeing about work, but I for one intend to remain in the land of the living. How am I going to have an affair with Dr Prince if I’m dead?’

This breaks the tension, and Winnie laughs. ‘Yeah, I know. I just remember that lovely doctor sometimes, and now, seeing the pressure you guys are under … I just get worried sometimes.’

‘Come on, let’s go for a swim!’ I urge, pulling her upright and dragging her towards the water. ‘It’ll do us good.’

‘It’s too cold!’ But I ignore her protests, and soon we’re both screaming with laughter as we fall into the freezing water and start thrashing around like beached dolphins before running back to the warmth of our towels.

‘Fabien reckons he’s going to come home,’ I say, as feeling gradually returns to my extremities. ‘I don’t believe him, obviously.’

Winnie laughs. ‘I love that guy,’ she says fondly. ‘I’ve never met anyone quite like him.’