“You Summerbee?’ he asked shortly. Mike nodded. ‘I’m waiting for my medical.’ ‘Mr Rose said I could give it to you. He’s still on his rounds at the hospital. Boss is waiting to get your forms off. Mr Griffiths has got to drive to St Annes.’ Barnett cast an appraising eye over Summerbee’s legs. He tapped the right one at the base of the kneecap. He grunted. Then he tapped the other one. ‘Congratulations, you’ve passed your medical. Now fuck off and sign the papers.”