I watch her peeling off layers of coat, scarf and cardigan. She shoves them in her locker in a ball and, reaching over, grabs the cup of stewed tea I’m holding, then takes a slurp.

‘Oi,’ I say, laughing.

‘I’m bloody freezing. And you got a first. Maybe if I nick your tea I’ll soak up some of your magic.’

‘Doubt it,’ I joke.

We’re waiting for one of the senior nursing team to appear and take us on an observation in theatre. My stomach’s churning with excitement and nerves. The familiar ritual of boiling kettle, teabag in cup, milk and sugar steadies me. Before I’d started working in the hospital I’d taken tea with nothing more than a splash of milk. Now, working long hours, never quite sure when the next break is coming, I heap sugar in for extra calories to keep me going. We all do.

I make another cup and pass it to Jameela. ‘Here. How did you do in the essay, then?’

‘Sixty-eight.’

‘That’s basically a first.’

‘No prizes for coming second.’ She rolls her eyes.

I watch as Jameela sips her tea, flicking her hijab back over her shoulder.

‘So what’s happening at your place?’ she asks.

‘Nothing much.’

She gives me a meaningful look. ‘Everything sorted with Emma?’

Jameela’s a good listener. I told her the whole story one long boring night – she and I have ended up on the same rotation and it’s made a real difference to have someone who actually gets how I’m feeling. And who doesn’t mind if I doze off mid-sentence.

‘Nope. She’s got someone else. I’ve accepted my new life as a permanent singleton. Anyway, all that sneaking around in the middle of the night was a bit like being seventeen and on a school trip.’

‘That sounds quite exciting.’

‘It loses the novelty pretty bloody fast. No, I’m focusing on this—’ I wave in the general direction of the ward ‘—and on getting decent grades.’

Jameela takes another sip of tea and looks at me for a moment. ‘How’s Jess?’ she asks.

‘Fine.’

‘Fine?’ She gives me a look.

‘Fine. Well, she’s in Bournemouth seeing her gran, who’s had some blood pressure issues.’ I take a green paper towel and dry the mug, hanging it back on the rack. I’ve been trying not to think about Jess down there in Bournemouth, with the perfect, super-capable James there for moral support. When they’re not sitting hand in hand by Nanna Beth’s bedside, they’re probably taking romantic walks on the beach.

‘And no news from Alice?’

I look at her sideways and arch an eyebrow. ‘This is like the Spanish Inquisition.’

‘Sorry. Your life’s way more interesting than mine at the mo. Mine is basically work, study, sleep, work.’

I nod. ‘Yeah. Mine is basically that with a bit of screwed-up relationship stuff added in. As for Alice, no. Nothing much. The odd text. But I don’t think you can go backwards, you know?’