I’m not surprised when I receive the email. I had a feeling that the Joker wouldn’t just let things slide. I’ve no doubt that, after Rachel’s death, a few questions are being asked—but, knowing the hospital, there’ll be a quick internal investigation and the case will be closed. I’ve already heard the usual whisperings: ‘She had issues’, and, ‘She was struggling’, and, worst of all, ‘Some people just can’t hack surgery.’ I’ve seen the Joker a few times since Rachel died and he’s been his usual self. He doesn’t seem to be particularly perturbed by what happened, and there’s no sense that he realises her suicide was largely his fault. I know he must be worried that I’ll tell the hospital what I saw, though, so I assume he’s trying to destroy my credibility before I can destroy his.

Dear Katarina,

The hospital executive and myself have had a serious matter brought to our attention. We would like to request a meeting with you to discuss.

We suggest Thursday at 4.15 pm in my office, which is on level 2 of the main hospital. Should you have any questions or wish to discuss anything prior, please call me.

It’s signed by Dr Lawson, terrifyingly, the Director of Medical Services. I notice that the entire executive have been copied in.

‘I think I’m about to get sacked,’ I tell Winnie before I walk to work on Thursday morning. I’m feeling surprisingly relaxed about it. My main worry is still Dr Prince. I’ve decided long ago to fall on my sword rather than get him into trouble.

‘I just had a really big crush on him, and I made up the kiss because I wished it would happen, but he was always so professional there was no way it ever would,’ I practise saying to the mirror in the bathroom of number 19.

‘Nicole had a relationship with a surgeon I am now good friends with,’ I rehearse to Winnie, who’s in the kitchen as I walk out of the bathroom, ‘and I feel as if she became jealous of our friendship and has subsequently made up these vexatious lies.’

As for the Joker, well, I sought the counsel of the Godfather, who’s become our go-to legal representative, and on his advice I documented every single time the Joker bullied me.

‘I can’t believe you used to be a lawyer,’ I said to the Godfather in awe. I thought about that for a moment. ‘Actually, maybe I can,’ I corrected myself, remembering that lawyers are renowned for their copious cocaine use.

‘Your mates can be full of surprises, Kitty,’ he said seriously, putting his arm around me. ‘I haven’t even told you about the methamphetamine production line under my apartment building.’

I looked at him, eyes wide.

‘Joking!’ he said, grinning.

Was he joking? I wondered. Best not to go there …