As Gwen works, I am making my own assessment and soon she turns to me. ‘All right, doctor, what would you do now?’

‘Her pulse and sats look OK but even so, we need to watch for bleeding when the fire service start cutting. And she needs analgesia. Ket. It’s OK for a pregnant woman. Right?’

‘So don’t just stand there, go and get what we need.’

Gwen and I work together to get the ketamine administered as the fire service begin to slice into the car, cutting off the roof and rolling the dashboard away. It’s enough to stop our patient worrying about pain. Instead, she’s babbling happily and telling Gwen she really, really loves her.

It’s over an hour before our patient is on her way to the trauma centre by road, with Gwen ready to step in if she needs treatment en route. I fly back to base with Lars and Carrot, our pilot. As we take off, the scene turns back into a model village: other people’s lives in miniature.

‘Sound work there, Kerry,’ Lars says. ‘She’s warming to you.’

‘I don’t see much sign of that.’

When Gwen gets back, she asks me if I could stay behind after the shift. We only just fit into the cramped admin office: the air ambulance is a charity, so the facilities are even shabbier than the NHS.

‘So, Kerry. Baptism of fire, right?’

‘It’s challenging, but I love every minute.’

She laughs and her face softens. ‘This isn’t an interview.’

‘What is it then?’

‘It’s . . . a small apology. Apparently, I’ve been quite hard on you.’

I stare at her, genuinely lost for words.

‘Lars has pointed out that most of our medics are consultants by the time they come to us, so it’s hardly surprising you’re not quite as competent yet. And what you lack in experience, you’re starting to make up for in enthusiasm. A little too much enthusiasm at times, so do keep a check on your tendency to rush in. But overall, I like you.’

‘Really? I thought you’d asked me here to tell me I should go back to hospital medicine.’

Gwen peers over her glasses. ‘I don’t think so, dear. We’re spending a fortune training you, and it’s nice to have another female around, especially a competent one. But that’s not my main concern.’

‘Oh?’

‘I need you to speed up. Prove you’re up to the job and, specifically, for covering my shifts in December. Because otherwise I’m going to have to cancel my birthday trek in Myanmar and that will piss me right off.’

So December is when the real baptism of fire begins.

I learn more in the months leading up than I have in the previous four years. I’m OK at this. And I am going to be really, really OK.