I allow myself five seconds of enjoyable reminiscing about the dream and then force myself to wake up properly. This is unpleasant for a few reasons, the first being that I’m actually on night shift and the beeping that has woken me is my pager. I’ve been asleep in the tiny doctors’ room, underneath a cotton sheet, having a filthy sex dream about one of my bosses. I really need to get a life, I think, feeling depressed.

I sit up and look down at the pager. Code blue. Paediatric ward. I feel a twinge of relief. I’m not covering that ward, so technically I don’t have to respond, but a code blue is a life-threatening situation so I should attend, just for support. Plus, Estelle is covering the paediatric ward and I don’t want her stuck in some horrific situation alone. I rub my eyes, roll off the mattress and hurry down to level two.

I burst through the door of room 214, expecting to see the intensive care doctor in the middle of a resus. I look around. There’s no one here. Not even a patient.

Someone clears their throat behind me.

I turn and see a nurse hovering. ‘Where’s the code?’ I ask.

‘Been airlifted out,’ he says, looking weirdly uncomfortable.

‘That’s fast.’ I’m surprised. I only just got the page.

‘The pager system went down,’ he explains. ‘It actually happened about half an hour ago.’

He tells me the patient was a three-year-old boy who was having trouble breathing and needed intubation.

‘Where’s Estelle?’ I ask. ‘Has she gone with the kid in the air ambulance?’

The nurse tilts his head slightly and gives me a meaningful glance.

‘What?’

He points over my shoulder and I look around to see that he’s indicated the door to the patient bathroom.

‘In there,’ he mouths.

I walk over and push open the door.

Estelle is sitting on the floor with her arms wrapped around her knees, staring at the wall. She’s staring so intently I have a quick look at the wall to see if I’m missing anything. I glance down and notice her shirt’s soiled. On closer inspection I realise there’s some blood, and what looks like vomit. Her hands are shaking. It’s very quiet.

‘Are you all right, mate?’ I ask, trying to sound casual.

‘No one came,’ she mumbles.

I don’t think she really knows that I’m there. I put my hand on her shoulder, and she starts so violently I stumble backwards.

‘Get away from me!’ she screams, lashing at me with her hand. ‘Just go away!’

My mouth drops open. I hardly recognise her in this state; it’s like she’s a completely different person.

Disturbed, I back out of the bathroom as she resumes staring at the wall.