He knew he was intelligent – he’d been told often enough by his parents and teachers. Legend had it that when he was just a year old, he’d mastered his letters and numbers and from then on, his mother had told him every day he was a child prodigy. Paul had always loved books and read widely; it didn’t matter what subject – all the subjects at school came easily to him and he was one of those rare students who actually enjoyed studying. Things made sense in the textbooks – the information was either right or wrong; there was no grey area.

But it was science that he really loved – especially biology. His dream of becoming a doctor had been resolute since he’d broken his arm last year. He’d sat in absolute agony in the hospital waiting room before being x-rayed. A nurse had taken him through to the ward and as he’d sat on the bed, his mother trying to hold his hand as if he was a three-year-old, he’d watched as the team of nurses fluttered around the ward, brisk and efficient.

He’d never been in hospital before and Paul counted five nurses in total, immediately identifying the Ward Sister. She was wearing a navy-blue uniform, unlike the others who all wore pale blue. To Paul, most of them just looked like ordinary women but there was one nurse who was very pretty. She reminded him of Cindy Crawford and Paul hoped she would be the one to deal with him. When Cindy came over to Paul’s bed, all smiles and reassurances, he lay back on the pillow enjoying the attention, his throbbing arm forgotten.

But a few moments later, he felt a charge in the air and Paul opened his eyes a fraction. A man was walking towards him, his white coat and stethoscope causing Cindy to stand to attention.

‘Right then, what do we have here?’

‘Good morning, Doctor,’ trilled Cindy. ‘Possibly a broken arm. I’ve brought you the x-ray.’

She placed it in the light box and Paul saw the foggy outline of his forearm, the bone broken in two.

‘Hmmm.’ The doctor took a step closer to the light box and Cindy waited quietly by his side. Everyone was silent – even his mother, who had not stopped wittering since he’d fallen from his bike, her panic reminding him of the desperate chirps of a trapped bird.