We hear a clanging sound from the wall behind us, where some hapless registrar is undoubtedly getting ready to go into theatre.

‘Shhh!’ Estelle hisses.

‘Sorry,’ I whisper. ‘But why has this come up now?’

Estelle puts her head in her hands. ‘They’re doing an inquest. I’ve been called to give evidence.’

‘Fuck!’ I exclaim.

The clanging next door stops.

‘Shhhhh!’

I put my hand over my mouth.

‘I got home pretty late,’ she explains in a whisper, ‘and there was a letter in the mailbox.’

I cringe. I can barely handle an electricity bill, let alone a career-ruining summons to appear in court.

‘I freaked out. I decided to wait until I knew less people would be around, then I came back here to see if I could access the Wingabby system from our computers. You know, to see what I’d documented at the time. But I couldn’t access it.’ Her fingers are tapping the ground nervously. ‘I tried to call you, but you weren’t answering. So I texted you and then came and hid in here.’

I’m still trying to take it all in. ‘So what did the letter say?’ I ask finally. ‘Do you have to go to court? Can’t you just—I don’t know—submit a written statement?’

‘No,’ she says, sounding tired. ‘I don’t think they’re looking to blame me, necessarily, but I have to go to court. Everyone will know what happened … It’ll be in the paper for sure. You know how the media loves slamming doctors. It’ll probably wreck my job prospects—no one wants to hire someone who’s been linked to such a major fuck-up this early on in their career.’

‘What was the cause of death?’ I say, almost too afraid to ask.

She looks totally defeated. ‘They’re not one hundred per cent sure yet—they still need to wait a few weeks for the forensic analysis. But apparently when they opened him up the ETT tube was in his oesophagus, going into his stomach.’

I swallow.

‘I intubated a child’s fucking oesophagus,’ Estelle whispers, wiping away tears. ‘I stuck a tube that was meant to go into an airway into the food pipe instead. It’s no good, mate. I definitely killed him. He wouldn’t have been getting any oxygen. I shoved the tube down the wrong hole, and now he’s dead.’

I can’t think of a single thing to say.

‘I killed him,’ she repeats.

‘But it was just a mistake!’ I whisper furiously. ‘You had no support, you were stuck there alone, you did the best you could! Mistakes like that happen all the fucking time!’

‘Yeah, and kids don’t always die,’ Estelle replies flatly.

We sit there in the dark in complete silence.

I feel sick.