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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

‘Sorry, I’m a bit lacking in the romance department,’ I snap. ‘I’ve been working hard while you’ve been gallivanting around.’

He grins. ‘Okay, angry pants.’

I try extremely hard not to smile.

‘I got you a present,’ he says, unwrapping the parcel he’s holding. ‘It’s a leather purse—had it made by a tailor in Saigon in Vietnam. It has Dr KH inscribed on it, see … and I had it made with a blue zip, because I know blue is your favourite colour. Remember your blue ski pants? I carried it all over the world for you. Then I messaged Winnie and got your address so I could surprise you after work.’ He gently lifts my stethoscope from around my neck. ‘Wow,’ he says, grinning, ‘you are a real doctor.’

‘Don’t think you’ll be working as a surf instructor while I slave my arse off in the emergency department,’ I warn.

‘I know.’

Then there’s no more talking, and as we move towards each other I feel my mind completely empty, for once, of all lingering thoughts.

I am finally a real doctor, and Fabien has finally come home.

EPILOGUE

epilogue

One year later

I walk onto the pebbles for the seventh consecutive morning and wave at the men building the bar on the beach at Èze. I flew into Nice eight days ago.

One morning I woke up and decided it was time to take six months off training to finally try to write my book. I found a tiny apartment on the French Riviera with an internet connection, and two weeks later I was gone. I packed only carry-on luggage, my laptop and the little pink book my mum bought me at the post office, its pages now filled with notes: it contains people, experiences, tears, pain, memories and love. My dreams, and my nightmares, encased in bright pink fake leather. The glittery cursive d has faded, and Follow your dreams looks more like Follow your reams. It’s tattered and old now, and stained with red wine from when Estelle knocked over a glass as I was reading her and Max an excerpt.

‘You have to write this book, Kitty,’ she had said, looking at me intensely.

We were sitting on the floor of number 19, surrounded by wine bottles and words.

‘You have to tell this story. Not just for us, or for yourself, because you want to be a writer, but for all those poor fucking medical students and junior doctors like us, for the patients and for the general public who think that doctors are superhuman machines. For people like Rachel, who didn’t have mates or support like we do. Forget making a difference by being a surgeon or whatever—this is your difference, Kitty: this is what you were meant to do. You have to write it. If you don’t, you’ll regret it for the rest of your fucking life.’