‘How did you get here?’ I ask, fearing the answer.

‘How do you think? The races are in the middle of nowhere—I had to drive!’ he shout-whispers, looking over his shoulder.

‘Oh, great,’ I say. ‘So, Max gets arrested for drink driving, then you arrive at the police station high as a kite after drug driving.’

Both Estelle and the Godfather turn on me. ‘Shhhh!’

‘Sorry, sorry,’ I say. Moralising isn’t exactly helpful in the present circumstances, I concede. ‘Well, you’ll have to leave your car here. We can’t drive either—we’ve been drinking wine for hours.’

I swear all three of us roll our eyes at exactly the same time.

‘You’d better come and say hi to Max.’ The Godfather’s face creases with pity. ‘He’s in the cell.’

‘Maybe you should wait here,’ I suggest, ‘and just, you know, chill out.’

He looks relieved. We leave the Godfather hiding behind a large shrub and head into Wingabby local command.

I walk up to the reception counter.

‘Hello, Officer …’ I pause. ‘We’re here to see our friend, who’s currently incarcerated.’

The policeman smiles cheerfully. ‘Oh, the doc? Yeah, poor bastard. He was barely over the limit. It was just that ambulance driver. He really wanted to make a stink about it.’

He leads us down the hall and gets out his keys. When he opens the door to the cell, Max looks up fearfully, then promptly starts to cry.

‘It’s all right, mate,’ the policeman says kindly. ‘Your friends are here now.’

‘It was the ambulance driver!’ he tells us, wiping his nose on the sleeve of the blue Ralph Lauren shirt I’d admired only this morning. ‘I swear, the ambulance wasn’t even scratched!’

‘Oh, we’ve heard,’ Estelle assures him. ‘The cop said you only blew just over. Why didn’t you get a blood test? By the time they would have taken your blood you’d have probably been under.’

Max nods, more tears leaking from his eyes. ‘I thought of that, but guess where the blood would have been taken?’

I groan. ‘The hospital.’

‘Oh, right.’ Estelle nods her understanding. ‘Well, that’s not an option.’

I agree. I can’t imagine anything worse than being dragged into the emergency department in front of my colleagues and then having to face their disapproval. It’s a dilemma unique to doctors. I make a mental note to carry a card in my wallet that gives specific instructions in the event of an emergency that I only be taken to certain hospitals, where it’s least likely that I’ll know anyone working there.

‘Do you reckon I should tell my mum?’ Max looks up at me, his eyes wide with trepidation.

‘I don’t know, mate,’ I say honestly.

Estelle gives him a hug. I pat his shoulder.