How can it be February already? Christmas feels like a long-distant memory, but don’t they say that time flies when you’re having fun? And Will is a lot of fun. Not just in the bedroom, although that side of things is very satisfactory indeed, thank you. No, it’s more than that. It’s his zest for life, the way his eyes sparkle when something amuses him. It’s⁠—

‘Tilly.’ Dr Patel’s voice rattles me out of my Will-inspired daydream and I focus back on the patient’s notes that I’m updating on the system. ‘There’s a patient in bay three I want you to look at. Sexual injury. You know how they give me the ick.’

I look up and she rolls her eyes at me.

‘Honestly,’ she continues. ‘Why can’t these people find less revolting hobbies, like knitting or something?’

‘Knitting can be pretty dangerous,’ I remind her. ‘Remember that guy whose wife shoved a needle in his eye after he criticised the scarf she made him for Christmas?’

She shudders. ‘All right. You have a point. I still don’t like sexual injuries though. They make me feel grubby.’

I smile. ‘Have you got the notes?’

‘Yup.’ She hands me a sheaf of papers and I have a scan through. Something about the name looks familiar, but I’m struggling to place it.

‘I think we’ve seen this guy before,’ I say to Dr Patel as I enter his details on the computer and click to search. Sure enough, an entry comes up.

‘Got him. Maurice Waters.’ I study the entry. ‘He was the one with the washer on his penis, do you remember?’

‘You mean he’s done this kind of thing before? What’s the matter with him? You’d think he would have learned his lesson.’ She pauses to think for a moment. ‘Was he the one with the nickname for his penis? Something to do with a car?’

‘You’re right,’ I tell her as the memory comes back. ‘Maurice Minor.’

‘Bloody idiot. Let’s go and see what he’s done to himself this time. You’d better lead. I don’t trust myself not to say something I might regret.’

‘Good evening, Maurice,’ I say brightly as I pull back the curtain so Dr Patel and I can enter the bay. ‘I’ve just been checking my notes and it seems we’ve met before. What’s the problem this time?’

‘It’s, umm, a piece of specialist equipment I bought off the internet,’ Maurice says, blushing furiously. ‘It broke at a critical moment and I can’t get it off.’

‘I see. Do you mind if I take a look?’

He nods, and I gently lower the blanket that’s covering his nether regions to find his penis encased in some kind of test tube, with a small piece of rubber hose dangling from the closed end.