ten years ago

      It was half past eight in the morning. The sun was pouring in through the dusty windows. I’d slept in my office after night duty, I felt tired, but I was packing my gym bag anyway. Lars Ohlson had been postponing our badminton matches for several weeks. He’d been too busy travelling between the hospital in Oslo and Karolinska and lecturing in London; he was due to take a seat on the board. But he’d called unexpectedly yesterday.

      “Erik, are you ready?”

      “Damn right I’m ready,” I’d said.

      “Ready to get beaten,” he’d said, but without the usual vigour in his voice.

      I poured the last of the coffee down the sink, left the cup in the pantry, ran downstairs, and biked over to the gym. Lars Ohlson was already in the chilly locker room when I got there. He looked up at me, then turned away and pulled on his shorts. Something in his expression was strange, almost afraid.

      “You won’t be able to hold your head up for a week when I’m done with you today,” he said, looking at me. But his hand was shaking as he turned the key in his locker.

      “You’ve been working too hard,” I said.

      “What? Well, yes, it’s been—” He stopped and slumped down on the bench.

      “Are you OK?” I asked.

      “Absolutely. What about you?”

      I shrugged. “I’m seeing the board on Friday.”

      “Of course. It’s the end of your funding. Same song and dance every time, isn’t it?”

      “I’m not particularly worried,” I said. “I think it’ll be fine. My research is making good progress, after all. I’ve had some excellent results.”

      “I know Frank Paulsson,” he said, getting to his feet. Paulsson was a member of the board.

      “Oh? How do you know him?”

      “We did our military service together; he’s very much on the ball and quite open.”

      “Good,” I said quietly.

      We left the locker room and Lars took my arm. “Should I give him a call and tell him they just have to invest in you?”

      “Can you do that sort of thing?”

      “Well, it’s not exactly accepted practice. But what the hell.”

      “In that case, it’s probably best if you don’t.” I smiled.

      “But you have to carry on with your research.”

      “I’ll be fine.”

      “Nobody would know.”

      I looked at him and said hesitantly, “Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”

      “I’ll give Paulsson a call tonight.”

      I nodded, and he smiled and gave me a slap on the back.

      When we got into the big hall, with its echoes and squeaking shoes, Lars suddenly asked, “Would you take over a patient of mine?”

      “Why?”

      “I haven’t really got time for her,” he replied.

      “I don’t know that I could do much better by her. My list is pretty full at the moment.”

      I started stretching as we waited for a court to become free. Lars jogged on the spot but seemed distracted. He ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat. “Actually, I think you could.”

      “Could what?”

      “Could do better by her. I think Eva Blau would benefit from being in your group,” he said. “She’s completely locked around some trauma. At least, that’s what I think, because I just can’t penetrate her shell. I haven’t got through to her once.”

      “I’d be happy to offer my advice, if you—”

      “Advice?” He lowered his voice. “To be honest, I’m through with her.” Even speaking quietly, he said this with some vehemence.

      “Has something happened?”

      “No, no, it’s just … I thought she was really ill. Physically, I mean.”

      “But she wasn’t?”

      He smiled, which seemed only to etch the stress on his face more deeply, and looked at me. “Can you just do me this favour?” he asked.

      “I’ll think about it.”

      “We’ll talk about it later,” he said quickly.

      He fell silent and looked over at the court, where two young women who looked like medical students had a couple of minutes left of their session. When one of them stumbled and missed a simple drop shot, he snorted. “What a klutz.”

      I rolled my shoulders and pretended to be looking at the clock, but I was actually studying Lars. He stood there biting his nails. Although it was chilly and he hadn’t begun to exert himself, he was sweating. And his face had definitely aged, grown thinner. Somebody yelled outside the hall, and he jumped and wheeled towards the door.

      The women gathered up their things and left the court, chatting away.

      “Let’s play,” I said, starting to move.

      “Erik, wait a second.” He put a hand on my shoulder to stop me. “I’ve never asked you to take on a patient before.”

      “I know. It’s just that I’m pretty full right now, Lars.”

      “What if I cover your on-call hours?” he said, searching my face for a reaction.

      “That’s quite a commitment,” I said, surprised.

      “I know, but you’ve got a family and you ought to be at home.”

      “Is she dangerous?”

      “What do you mean?” he asked with an uncertain smile, fiddling with his racket.

      “Eva Blau. Is that your assessment?”

      He glanced over at the door again. “I don’t know how to answer that,” he said quietly.

      “Has she threatened you?”

      He considered his response for a moment. “Every patient of this kind can be dangerous. It’s difficult to judge … But I’m sure you’ll be able to cope with her.”

      “I expect I will.”

      “You’ll take her? You will take her, won’t you, Erik? Please?”

      “Yes,” I said.

      His cheeks flushed, he turned away and moved toward the baseline. Suddenly a trickle of blood ran down the inside of his thigh; he wiped it away with his hand and looked at me. When he realised I had seen the blood, he mumbled that he was having a problem with his groin; he apologised and limped off the court.