Marilyn can’t believe I invited Tim, but five years is a long, long time, and he kept his promise to support my studies. He lets out the bungalow and has sent me half the rent and it’s kept me going during training. He lives in Barcelona with Maria now, doing some swanky research job. He even invited me to his wedding last summer, though I couldn’t quite face that. But I’ve seen the photos: he looked far better in the bespoke suit than he did in the Moss Bros one he wore for our wedding. Tim will be thirty in October: being a proper grown-up suits him.

Ant sits down next to me. ‘You did it, Dr Smith.’ He’s married now, with twin baby girls. I didn’t go to his wedding either but he understood. We got close when we were nursing Joel through his rehab, and if he’s wondered, or guessed, why we fell out, he’s never demanded the full story. I told him I’d prefer it if we didn’t talk about Joel and he accepted it unquestioningly. That’s Ant’s style, easy come, easy go.

‘Looks that way,’ I say.

‘I always knew you were born for this, right from when you did that kiss of life business on the Lawns.’

I smile. Remembering that night doesn’t hurt anymore. Or at least, the pain is so distant that I don’t know if it’s real or a residual warning from my neurons to steer clear of what caused the pain. Our bodies do this for self-preservation.

Love, sticking your hand in a fire, ignoring a sore tooth the day before you go to Cambodia on a wild medicine field trip and ending up in agony in the jungle.

All mistakes I will never make again.

And if, occasionally, my survival instincts make me seem standoffish, well, it’s better than, I dunno, bursting into tears because a patient hasn’t made it. If you let the flood gates open, you can’t control what comes out.

‘What next, nerdy girl?’ Ant asks.

‘I’m staying in London. It’s the best place in the world for what I want to do.’

My results mean I got the pick of deaneries for my two foundation years, so I applied to the one attached to the medical school that turned me down five years ago. I have to admit, there’s an element of putting two fingers up to that paternalistic consultant who dismissed me at interview because he thought I’d end up sub-fertile and sobbing as my time ran out. Up yours, mate. I have a niece, a nephew and a job I love. I am too busy to be broody.