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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

‘Kit …’ The Godfather is still staring at me intensely. ‘I should tell you—’

‘I have to take this,’ I say. ‘It’s my boss.’

I answer my phone. Estelle is staring at the Godfather, he’s staring at me, and I’m trying to hold my phone while eating my lunch at the same time.

‘Is this about Mr Moretti’s bowels?’ I ask. ‘He’s passing wind today and feels like he needs to go, so I think his ileus is getting better. Do you want me to—?’

‘Kitty,’ the Shark says.

I stop talking immediately. I don’t think he’s ever used my nickname. Never. Not even in theatre when he laughed at one of my jokes.

‘Where are you?’

I raise my eyebrows. Now this is definitely getting weird.

‘I’m, ah …’ I don’t want to admit I’m in the cafeteria.

‘Are you with people?’

‘Yeah, I’m with my friends in the caf,’ I say, now so confused I’m honest by accident. ‘It’s just a quick coffee,’ I add defensively.

He sounds relieved. ‘That’s good. Kitty … Katarina … I need to tell you something. I would prefer to do it in person but I’m not at the hospital at the moment. I wanted to call you directly, though.’

I wait.

‘It’s about your registrar,’ he says. ‘Rachel.’

I look at the Godfather’s red eyes and remember what Estelle just said, and I feel my heart sink into my shoes.

‘She’s dead.’

I hear the words but I’m not listening. The Godfather puts his hand on my arm and I see my phone clattering onto the table, nearly knocking over Estelle’s coffee.

Dead. My mind rolls the word over. Asleep. More than asleep. Quiet. Silent.

Dead.

Just like Mrs Davies. Estelle is trying to talk to me but her words are a blur. I’m back on the ward last night, answering my pager. It’s like someone hits rewind and I swear I look up and the Croatian cleaner is coming towards me, slowly dragging her mop and bucket.

Death comes like a thief in the night and we must always be ready.

But I’m not ready, I think, panicking. I’m not ready for any of this! I feel like I am Mr Davies. He wasn’t ready either! How did Rachel die? Where’s her body now? Did it hurt? Was she in pain? Did someone have to call her family? The whys, the hows, the questions swarm through my brain. Questions that no one, not even the smartest palliative care physician in the world, will be able to answer.

‘Kitty?’ The Godfather is staring at me anxiously. ‘Kitty, are you okay?’