I walk into the hospital at the ungodly hour of 6.30 am to attend the weekly radiology meeting and cheer myself with the glorious memory of Lucas Lang sucking on my nipples. This distracts me so thoroughly that at first I don’t notice as I walk into the meeting that it’s unusually crowded.

I look around. ‘Why are there so many people here?’ I whisper to Max, who looks as exhausted as I feel. Max has finished nights, which is a relief, but he’s now on vascular surgery and is, in his words, already completely fucking over it. And it’s only been ten minutes.

‘It’s a special meeting today apparently, they’re only doing cardiac angiography,’ he whispers, ‘so the cardiothoracic department’s here.’ He nudges me. ‘Maybe Dr Lang’s here, mate.’

‘How come you’re here?’ I whisper, changing the subject. ‘I thought you were meant to be in theatre.’

‘My old consultant told me I needed to go to more meetings for my CV,’ he says. ‘My team told me about the radiology meeting. They have it every week. I wanted the free breakfast and a break from the fucking ward, and I can say that I’m so keen I attend extra education sessions.’

I look around me, the realisation dawning that half the men in the room were at the cardiothoracic dinner on Friday evening. A few are giving me curious glances, and I realise I need to abort mission. Immediately.

‘I’m not that interested in hearts,’ I whisper to Max, quickly gathering my things. ‘I might just, ah, head back upstairs.’

‘Don’t even think about it,’ the Joker says, appearing before me like an evil spirit accidentally invoked at a séance. ‘We’re staying. One of the patients they’re presenting the angio of is also having neurosurgery under us so we need to be here. Your anatomy is hopeless. I’ll be quizzing you after the meeting to see what you’ve learned.’

Sandwiched between the Joker and Max, I sit back down.

‘Why are you wearing your jacket over your head?’ the Joker asks. ‘Have you converted to Islam?’

I ignore the political incorrectness and cough. ‘I’ve got a cold,’ I say. ‘I need to keep my head warm.’

The room goes quiet as Lucas Lang stands up to start commenting on the angiogram.

My face burning, I stare straight ahead, trying not to draw attention to myself, as he points to the left main coronary artery and describes the threatening stenosis present.

‘Stop being so obvious!’ Max whispers. ‘You look like you’re about to have a heart attack.’

I glare at him. ‘I need to get out of here,’ I whisper back.

‘Ah, perhaps one of the juniors can offer an opinion on the angio,’ Lucas suggests, smiling at me. ‘It seems like they’re very interested in talking about it.’