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along with the frequently used numbers. Montse didn’t know what hurt her the most, how long they’d taken to let her know, or the fact that it had been her husband, in a deep voice filled with self-possession, who had told her that their daughter had died. Besides, he had shown up with the radiologist, as if he wanted his lover to witness his fortitude.
    An hour later, when Montse bumped into doctor Carnero in the staff room, her sarcastic smile had been replaced by a vacant gaze. On seeing her, the anaesthetist knew her friend was about to slip back into that deep hole she was trying to climb out of.
    ‘Coffee?’
    Doctor Cambra nodded. It felt good to be surrounded by people and talk about mundane things.
    ‘How’s your son?’
    The anaesthetist squinted at her and tried to smile.
    ‘Oh, he’s fine. But how are you? A moment ago you were smiling to yourself and now I come here and find you…’
    ‘I’m fine. My head’s not always where it should be, that’s all.’
    ‘We all get that, Montse. It doesn’t really make you special, you know.’
    ‘Nothing does, Belén. I’m the least special person on the planet.’
    Belén tried not to take her friend’s observation too seriously. She knew better than anyone that Montse didn’t need words oradvice but time for her wounds to heal.
    ‘Listen, Montse,’ said the anaesthetist. ‘What are you doing tomorrow?’
    ‘Nothing much, I guess: I’ll watch the ski jumping and the waltz competition on TV, and get fat with no regrets.’
    ‘I was thinking you could come round for dinner. Matías has brought some of that cod you like so much from his hometown.’
    ‘Cod on New Year’s Day? What about turkey and rice? The tradition that made our cuisine so great?’
    ‘You couldn’t be more old-fashioned!’
    The door opened and an intern walked in, wearing gloves and surgical mask at a crooked angle.
    ‘Montse, we need you.’
    Doctor Cambra stood up and left her coffee on the table without having even sipped from it.
    ‘All right,’ she said before leaving, ‘tomorrow at yours. If you like I’ll tape the ski jumps.’
    ‘No thanks. I’ll watch them live. My son loves them.’
    Between eleven and twelve-thirty, the Casualty Ward was particularly quiet. A few staff members went over to the cafeteria for a bite to eat; others preferred to share home dishes in the staff room. It was the worst period of the night for Doctor Cambra.
    The girl’s parents appeared a little before the clock struck twelve, harrowed by their daughter’s accident. Doctor Montserrat Cambra took special care of them. Against hospital regulations, she even allowed them to go in and see their daughter for a few minutes.
    ‘She’s been very lucky,’ she told the parents, who wept in front of the badly injured girl. ‘Don’t be scared by the intubation and all the bandages. It’s only saline solution and pain killers. Her head is absolutely fine. She’s broken a collarbone and a tibia. The worst thing, though, are the injuries to her hand, but with surgery and proper physical therapy there’ll be no serious consequences.’
    The mother burst into tears as soon as she finished the report.
    ‘But she’s fine, trust me. In a month she’ll be nearly back to normal.’
    Doctor Cambra was doing her best to lift the parents’ spirits, but she herself was sinking deeper into the terrifying hole. As soon as she could, she excused herself and walked away. Back in the staff room, the doctors and nurses on duty were toasting the new year in with plastic cups and making confetti out of old spreadsheets. The new century had crept in. A doctor from traumatology kissed her and wished her a happy new year. He was nervous and particularly clumsy, and nearly spilled coffee all over her.
    ‘You haven’t called me all week,’ he said, trying not to sound reproachful.
    ‘I didn’t get a chance, Pere, honestly. I had a million things to do here.’
    ‘Well, if that’s the only