Summer in Sydney. Fiona McArthur

first night together. But Cort wouldn’t let it slide, Cort wanted the ten minutes of Ruby that her friends and colleagues seemed to get.

      ‘Walking around?’ Cort continued. ‘Walking around, what?’

      ‘Angry,’ Ruby said. ‘Is that what it takes to survive this place?’

      ‘For some,’ Cort admitted. ‘Ruby, it’s okay to be angry.’

      ‘That’s a joke, coming from you.’ She blasted a jug of ice with water. ‘I got hurt and the one time I was angry, the one time I let it show …’ She turned off the tap. ‘Look what it cost me.’ She turned on a smile because that was all anyone really wanted from her. ‘You carry on with crabby Cort. As soon as I’m out of here, I’ll get back to being happy.’

      Except she couldn’t quite get there.

      The place incensed her, especially when it turned out that no one had bothered to ring Psych and let them know what had happened with Bill. Imran, a psych doctor Ruby knew quite well, came down at two a.m. to admit him.

      ‘Oh, he had a seizure,’ Jamelia said. ‘Hypona-traemic. He’s under ICU for now.’

      ‘Well, thanks so much for advising me,’ Imran said. ‘I’ll get back to bed, then.’ But his sarcasm was wasted on Jamelia who just moved on to her next patient.

      ‘Busy?’ Ruby asked.

      ‘Full moon,’ Imran answered, and Cort, who was on the phone, felt his jaw snap down. ‘Have you got time for a drink before I head back up there?’

      ‘I doubt we’ll be getting breaks tonight.’

      ‘I don’t know how you stand the place,’ Imran said, and then he saw a flash of tears in Ruby’s eyes. She muttered something about not knowing how she stood it either.

      ‘Can I steal Ruby for a drink?’ Imran clearly knew Sheila. ‘To compensate for my wasted journey?’

      ‘Ten minutes,’ Sheila called over, because no one would be getting a proper break tonight and Ruby clearly needed a short one. Her cheeks were burning with colour, she was tense and angry, and Sheila didn’t blame her a bit—she just didn’t have time to address it.

      As Ruby and Imran headed off to the staffroom, Cort found something out about himself—occasionally he ground his teeth.

      Ruby did feel a bit better for talking to Imran. ‘What if he’d been still stuck in a cubicle when he’d had the seizure?’ Ruby asked as they broke open a bar of chocolate.

      ‘They’d have heard him,’ Imran said. ‘Bill’s going to be fine. They’ll sort him out and then he’ll be back with us.’

      ‘He’s not manic.’

      ‘Of course he’s manic.’ Imran laughed. ‘He does this all the time.’

      She closed her eyes, because it was almost impossible. There was just so much to learn, so much to take in, and three years just didn’t cut it.

      ‘You’ll get there,’ Imran said as they headed out to the unit. ‘This sort of thing happens all the time.’

      ‘Well, it shouldn’t.’

      ‘You’ll be back with us soon,’ Imran said as they walked passed Cort.

      ‘Thank God,’ Ruby muttered, and Cort rather agreed. He needed his mind to get back to work.