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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 shake my head. ‘I need to email the German guy and keep going with this research,’ I tell him. ‘Prince sent me this hectic email before I left and it’s not like I have a raging social life here in Wingabby.’

‘Fair enough,’ Max says. ‘The Godfather’s at the pub already with one of the nurses so I’ll catch up with him later. See you.’

‘Bye,’ I say as he heads out the door.

I open my laptop and immediately feel exhausted. Novel immunotherapy for tackling recurrent glioblastoma multiforme, while undeniably worthwhile, sounds about as exciting as watching paint dry.

These are the sacrifices junior doctors have to make, I remind myself. To have a competitive CV, I need to actually have something written on it. I also realise I don’t have Dr Dietrich’s email address.

I wonder for a crazy moment if I should text Nicole, but banish that thought before it can implant, and realise the only person I can really ask is Dr Prince.

I pick up my phone, and stare at it. Hmm.

I haven’t seen Dr Prince since the awkward M&M meeting. I think about him quite a bit, but in fairness there isn’t much else to think about on thirty-eight-degree nights surrounded by brown walls.

I reassure myself that Dr Prince has no idea of his starring role in my after-dark fantasies and that there is nothing wrong with texting him to ask for Dr Dietrich’s email address.

I write a draft text which I then waste close to an hour editing. My head starts to hurt. If I can’t even write a text, I have no idea how I’ll manage to write an entire research paper.

Miraculously, Estelle emerges from her bedroom, looking sleepy but pleased. ‘I just had the sleep of death!’ she announces. ‘I’ve finally found exactly the right temazepam-to-wine ratio!’ She looks over to where I’m hunched, staring at my phone on the couch. ‘What’s wrong with you? Have you been called in to the hospital?’

‘I have to text Dr Prince for his friend’s email address,’ I explain. ‘You know, the German guy he’s asked me to do research for.’

Estelle, aware of my feelings for Dr Prince, looks at me sympathetically. ‘Have you been working on a draft?’

I nod, ashamed.

She grabs my phone and, before I can protest, types quickly. She throws it back to me.

Hi, would you mind sending me Dr Dietrich’s email address so I can let him know where I’m at with the research? Having a really fun time out here in Wingabby! Thanks. Katarina.

‘I don’t know about the “having fun in Wingabby” bit,’ I say nervously.

‘Too late.’ Estelle is merciless. ‘I already sent it.’