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died, or anything.’
    ‘Shall I let you into a little secret?’ Alec said. Helen looked over her shoulder at him.
    ‘What?’
    ‘First you have to promise not to breathe a word. Not to anyone.’ She and William looked at each other, then both nodded. ‘Do you know why Latimer insists on total silence while he operates?’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Because he’s terrified of losing his concentration and making a mistake.’ Alec glanced around him, as if to make sure no one was listening. ‘Years ago, when he was first starting out, he left a swab inside a patient.’
    ‘No!’
    ‘That’s what I heard. It didn’t come to light until afterwards, when they were checking the swabs and realised one was missing.’
    ‘What happened?’
    ‘They had to open the patient up again to find it. There was a big fuss, of course, and Mr Latimer came within a whisker of being struck off. Ever since, he’s been absolutely fanatical about no one uttering a sound while he’s working.’
    Helen looked at William. He seemed as surprised by the story as she was.
    ‘Do you see what I’m saying to you?’ Alec said. ‘Everyone makes mistakes. Even someone as great as Mr Latimer.’
    Helen smiled shakily. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘That does make me feel better.’
    ‘I’ll tell you what would make you feel even better,’ William said. ‘Let Alec and me take you out for a drink this evening.’
    Helen shook her head. ‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to study.’
    William rolled his eyes. ‘You work too hard.’
    ‘And you don’t work hard enough!’
    ‘True. But don’t tell Mother that, will you?’
    ‘She wouldn’t believe me anyway. You know you can do no wrong in her eyes.’
    ‘This is true.’ William sighed dramatically. ‘Oh, well, if we can’t persuade you to join us, we’ll just have to go and celebrate by ourselves, won’t we, Alec?’
    ‘What are you celebrating?’ Helen frowned.
    ‘Surviving a session with Mr Latimer. I don’t know about you, Dr Little, but I’m not in any hurry to repeat the experience.’
    ‘Definitely not.’ Alec shook his head.
    ‘You’re lucky,’ Helen sighed. ‘I have to face him again in three days’ time. Even sooner if he’s called to an emergency case.’ She was already dreading it.
    ‘You’ll be all right, Sis.’ William put his arm round her. ‘And a word of advice,’ he added. ‘If you clean those scissors any more you’ll wear them away!’
    By six o’clock, she had finished sterilising, drying and polishing the instruments, and put them all away for the following day. She scrubbed the operating theatre until the white-tiled walls gleamed under the harsh glare of the overhead lights. Then she changed out of her uniform, wiped her shoes over with carbolic, switched off the lights and left.
    Theatre was an eerily silent place to be when everyone had gone home. All the doors were locked, and the only way out was up the steep back staircase. Helen hurried along the passageway, her footsteps muffled by the thick stone walls. She was far too sensible to believe all the silly stories the other nurses told about the ghost of a former Theatre Sister who was supposed to haunt the place, but the darkness and the soft scuttle of the cockroaches coming out of their hiding places still made her heart race against her ribs.
    She had almost reached the top of the back stairs when she heard the sound of breathing coming from above her. She paused, listening. Someone was standing in the shadows at the top of the stairs, waiting . . .
    ‘Hello?’ She called, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. ‘Is anyone there?’
    She jumped as a heavy door banged shut above her. Whoever it was had gone.
    Helen laughed shakily at her own foolishness. It was probably just a porter, or one of the cleaners. She had spent far too much time listening to Millie Benedict telling ghost stories after lights out, she decided.
    But as she reached the top of the stairs, a curious