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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

I know that even if it had been a traumatic last few minutes I would have lied to her. I would have told her that Mary was prepared, that she was ready to go, that it was like she was drifting into the most peaceful sleep. I would have used platitudes like ‘she had made peace with it all’ and ‘it was her time’. I would have said all those things, even if none of them were true. Sometimes, I realise as I hang up the phone, being a good doctor is just a case of being a good liar.

That’s not a bad line. I find my new diary. Follow your dreams! it shrieks at me as I open the cover.

Sometimes, I write, being a good doctor is just a case of being a good liar.

FIFTY-THREE

fifty-three

‘Something weird is going on,’ Estelle says to me the next morning as I slide into a seat at our usual table in the cafeteria.

I’m tired from my late shift last night so I just yawn in response.

Estelle looks over at me. ‘I mean it, Kitty! I just got out of the lift and one of the surgical registrars got in and it looked like he’d been crying. Then, when I was coming to meet you, I walked past one of the residents and she was, like, sobbing.’

‘Job interview stress,’ I say dismissively, stifling another, bigger yawn. ‘It is that time of year.’

‘Yeah, maybe.’ She looks unconvinced. ‘Maybe it’s something to do with your old registrar—she did try and kill herself.’

‘I don’t think so,’ I say. ‘I saw the Shark on the round this morning, and apparently she’s close to being discharged. She’s doing much better, he said. They’re having a meeting next week.’

The Smiling Assassin, according to the Shark, is ‘much improved’. He also said—in not so many words—that her surgical career’s probably over, in the city at least.

‘There are always jobs in the country,’ he told me uncomfortably. ‘We need surgeons out there.’

‘Life’s probably a bit more chilled out in Broken Hill,’ I said, trying to see the positives, and failing. Fabulous. Years of surgical training, sexual and emotional abuse by your superior, a suicide attempt, all for the glorious future of night shifts in Broken Hill, or equivalent.

‘Kitty! Estelle!’ The Godfather is striding towards us, looking flustered and upset.

Estelle looks at him. ‘Have you been crying?’ she asks incredulously. To me she says, ‘See? I told you something weird was going on.’

‘Is this about your job interview?’ I ask him.

The Godfather gapes at me. Something about the way he looks at me makes me pause. The old saying ‘somebody just walked over my grave’ springs to mind.

We’re interrupted by my phone ringing. It’s the Shark, no doubt about something I’ve forgotten to do for one of the patients.