Peter found himself floating above the operating table. He watched as the surgeon took off his gloves and had words with the orderly. He was angry with him over something. The orderlies wheeled his body out.

I must have died, he thought to himself. My Italian isn't great but didn't they say something about intensive care. They don't take dead bodies to intensive care . . . So why am I still in here?

"Is something troubling you Peter Margate?"