‘Well, thanks for the round,’ says Dr Prince. ‘You’re doing very well.’

‘Thank you,’ I reply, feeling ridiculously pleased.

He looks like he’s about to say something else, but instead he raises his hand, and half nods at me. ‘Okay … Bye then,’ he says.

‘Bye,’ I say, finding I’m doing my own weird half nod.

As he walks away I stand there, wondering why I feel so odd.

I walk to the nurses’ desk near the front of the ward, and take a few deep breaths. Is it nausea? A headache? It’s a sensation I can’t quite put my finger on.

It isn’t until the end of the day, when I meet Max in the cafeteria and describe my round with Dr Prince, that I realise I’m not suffering from a brain tumour or viral gastroenteritis or any other kind of illness.

‘You must be getting used to neurosurgery,’ Max says, looking at me closely. ‘You actually seem a bit happy.’

FIVE

five

My phone is ringing, and I’m debating whether or not to answer it.

‘Is it the Joh-kerrrr?’ Max asks with an exaggerated Bostonian drawl.

‘Just hang up on him,’ Estelle suggests.

We’re in the hospital cafeteria at our favourite table, which is tucked into a sort of alcove, concealing us from people we’re trying to avoid. It’s Thursday, which is tantalisingly close to Friday and then the weekend. It’s almost the end of our first week and we are all still alive, as are most of our patients. The only death was Max’s, a ninety-eight-year-old man with pneumonia, leaving him, to Estelle’s and my envy, with only one patient on his list.

‘It’s a private number,’ I say worriedly as my phone keeps ringing.

‘He’s just trying to trick you,’ Max says. ‘He must realise you’ve started to screen his calls so he’s doing the old “call you through switch” move.’

‘The new registrar is starting today,’ I remind him. ‘Maybe it’s her. I should answer it.’

Max shrugs. ‘It’s your funeral.’

Angry that I am so weak, I press answer. ‘Hello?’

There’s a short silence.

‘Katarina speaking,’ I say. Maybe it’s about my overdue electricity bill, not anything work-related at all, I think hopefully.

‘Hello,’ a male voice says, sounding slightly hesitant.

‘Hello?’

‘It’s, ah, Jack Prince.’

I almost knock over the coffee cup in my haste to stand up, moving away from Max and Estelle’s chatter so that he won’t be able to tell that I’m at the cafeteria.

‘Oh, hi, Dr Prince!’ I say. ‘Do you want to do a round? I’m just heading to the ward now.’

‘No, that’s all right. I was actually ringing to see if you’d like to help me out in theatre tomorrow. For my Friday list.’