‘Don’t worry,’ he says, sounding relaxed. ‘I never round on Wednesday afternoons. It’s my sailing time.’

I nod, then realise he can’t see me. What can I even say to that?

‘Lucky you,’ comes out accidentally. ‘I’ve just been in theatre with your esteemed colleague.’

I must sound more sarcastic than I intended because he laughs. ‘That bad?’

‘Yeah,’ I say, forgetting myself, ‘he’s a total jerk.’

The wind whistles in my ear. I wonder, for a second, what the yacht looks like. I forget that I’m leaning against the wall outside the operating theatre in my oversized scrubs and imagine what it would be like out on the harbour. Wind. Water. All that wonderful freedom. Sailing must open the soul in a way not even the sharpest scalpel can.

I forget that Dr Prince is my boss and start to tell him about my day. ‘You know, he’s just so mean all the time,’ I explain. ‘Like, I’ve been away for ten weeks and he can’t even ask how my trip was. It’s always just how I’m never good enough.’

‘I can’t stand the guy,’ Dr Prince says, then there’s a silence as if he realises he’s gone too far.

‘Me neither,’ I agree with feeling, and even though all I can hear is the wind it whistles with agreement.

‘I actually didn’t ring to talk about him.’ He sounds brisk all of a sudden, once again my senior consultant. ‘I know you’re off tomorrow, so I wanted to say good luck with the paper and ask you to tell Wolfgang I said, Tjena.’

‘Tjena?’

‘It’s colloquial Swedish for hello,’ he explains. ‘Now he’s been on sabbatical there for nearly a year from Germany he needs to practise his Swedish.’

I can’t believe that in less than twenty-four hours I’ll be on a plane to the south of Sweden where I’ll say tjena to Dr Wolfgang Dietrich.

‘Well, thanks,’ I say. ‘Thanks for offering me the research, too.’

‘That’s my pleasure.’ There’s a moment where neither of us say anything, and more wind whooshes through my ear. We both start to talk at the same time. He stops.

‘Okay, I guess I’ll let you get back to it.’ I feel embarrassed and I don’t know why.

‘Have a safe flight.’

He ends the call.

I let my body flop against the wall and release a breath I didn’t know I was holding. What is going on here, exactly? Do consultants normally call their interns from their yachts on the harbour?

Maybe they do. Maybe he’s just being supportive. He’s a busy, important man. The only time he probably gets to make calls is when he’s out sailing.