‘Though, if I’m not mistaken, this suggests you’re not a Miss at all?’

I nod. ‘Well spotted! I got married last July. My husband has just started his foundation year in the Marine deanery.’

‘Can’t win ’em all, eh?’ he says, and I can’t tell whether he’s referring to my marriage or the fact that Tim’s training placement is seen as a backwater. ‘What can I get you?’

I ask for a black coffee, wondering if I should have offered to serve him instead. Behind him, I see the other candidates gathering, ready for their turn to impress him.

He hands me my coffee. He’s probably in his mid-fifties but has a silver-fox aura about him, well-manicured hands and an expensive suit that makes him look slimmer than he is. He hasn’t shared his specialty, but I can imagine he’d make a mint privately in gynae. ‘So, is Smith your name or your husband’s?’

‘Mine. I am quite attached to it, as I’ve lived with it my whole life.’

‘How long have you and your husband been together?’

My smile falters but I can’t think of a polite way to tell him it’s none of his bloody business. ‘We were always friends, but it turned into more in the last few years.’

‘How sweet,’ he says. ‘And children?’

I shake my head. ‘No.’

His expression doesn’t change. I guess he must have decades of practice, whether he’s breaking the best or the worst news. ‘Of course, you’ll be in your early thirties by the time you make it into your foundation years if you start medicine this September, won’t you?’

I did GCSE maths, so, funnily enough, I have worked that out. ‘I’ll be just thirty, actually.’

‘Your early thirties, as I said. There are plenty of happy medic couples, though mostly they started out at the same time, so by the time that biological clock starts ticking, the female should be on track to finish her GP training or whatever tedious family-friendly area she’s picked. You’re taking it to the wire!’ He laughs, as though we’re sharing this joke.

I have no idea how to respond. It would have been illegal to raise it in the interview itself, but this chat is deniable, his word against mine.

Do I lie and tell him I’m infertile? ‘I don’t want kids. I’m happy staying an auntie.’

As I say the words, it occurs to me they might well be true.

‘Good for you, Miss Smith. And your husband feels the same way?’

‘He’s incredibly supportive. As I have been of him throughout his training. It’s my turn now.’