The curiosity in Callum’s eyes shifted into something altogether more alarmed.
‘They were operating on her brain while she was awake?’
‘It’s quite common,’ I confirmed. ‘They wanted to make sure they didn’t cause damage to any of the tissue that controlled her ability to play so what better way than to have her thrash out a bit of Bach while she’s there. Actually, I think it was Mahler. There’s a video on YouTube, do you want to see?’
Callum responded with a violent shake of the head. ‘Never ever, not even if I live to be five hundred years old, are you to show me that video. Imagine being awake while they – you – fiddle around inside your brain. Doesn’t it hurt?’
‘There are no nociceptors in the brain. You can poke around in there all day and it won’t hurt the patient.’ I tipped my head to one side as I considered my answer. It was nice, talking about my work with someone who was genuinely interested. ‘At least, it wouldn’t cause physical pain. Ideally you want to be in and out as quickly as possible, same as with any surgery. Awake craniotomies aren’t new, they actually haven’t changed that much at all over the last few decades, but with all the advances in imaging technology, we know a lot more than we used to prior to the surgery and the more youknow the better. These days we have a much clearer map of the brain before we go in.’
He stood stock-still, a slight green tinge to his fair complexion.
‘You’re pure giving me the boak. Wish I hadn’t asked.’
‘And you wanted to know why I’m single,’ I reminded him. ‘It takes a strong stomach to date a neurosurgeon.’
‘I still think it’s amazing,’ he said quickly, shaking off his sickly pallor. ‘You save people’s lives, Laura.’
‘Not always.’ The corners of my mouth flickered and the lights on the tree suddenly went out of focus. ‘But that’s part of the job too.’
‘I don’t know how you do it,’ he replied. ‘It must be so hard.’
‘People say you get used to it but you don’t,’ I said. ‘At least, I haven’t. My job is to listen, to deliver information and not get emotionally involved. You have to sort of switch off, stop being a human for a minute.’
‘And that works?’
‘Well enough.’
The truth was it worked too well. Every time I flipped the switch, it became that much harder to go back. Numb was preferable to sad.
‘Some people talk and some people listen,’ I said when he didn’t reply. ‘I’m a listener, I take stuff in, always have.’
‘But who listens to you?’
I looked over to see him staring at me with the sort of quiet awe that might’ve been too much if he hadn’t been holding a pair of tiny, bedazzled bagpipes at the same time. This time, I was the one who had nothing to say.
‘Anyone who isn’t in total awe of you ought to havehis bollocks removed,’ he added. ‘With a rusty scalpel, no anaesthetic.’
‘If that was the case, I’d never be out of theatre.’ I said, thinking of all the times friends had tried to set me up with someone, only for that someone to cancel at the last minute or tap out after one drink. ‘It’s intimidating to a lot of people, I suppose. They’re always cool about male surgeons but something about female surgeons still freaks a lot of people out.’
‘I was about to say, try being a male pastry chef but it’s not quite the same, is it?’
‘You say it as though a dessert hasn’t saved my life more than once,’ I laughed. ‘No, I hear you. Men should be cooking big hunks of meat or having a nervous breakdown over spaghetti sauce like Carmy inThe Bear, surely?’
‘Yes but you’ll not hear a single straight male chef complain about Carmy,’ Callum chuckled. ‘More of my friends got dates after that show aired than you would believe.’
‘Dates?’ I raised an eyebrow.
‘I’m being polite because there are ladies present,’ he said, leaning in and lowering his voice. ‘There were guys in my kitchen who went out and got tattoos same as his just to up their chances.’
‘You can admit you’re talking about yourself,’ I said and he guffawed with laughter.
‘Did you see any tattoos when you walked in on me the other day?’
The unexpected reminder of our first meeting brought a flush to my skin.
‘Tell me.’ Callum brushed past me to hang the shimmering bagpipes on the tree and I shivered from headto toe. ‘What does the future look like for Dr Laura Pearce?’
‘Well, I was thinking about putting the kettle on and running a bath,’ I replied, digging my fingernails into my palms to chase away the residual tingling sensation. ‘And I’d really like to finish my book tonight if
