Thankfully, the fast pace of A & E means that I don’t have time to dwell on his biceps, or any other part of him that catches my eye. However, I do notice that he seems much more confident and at ease in the department than he was on his first day. The fact that Dr Patel isn’t on duty probably helps. Our head consultant today is Dr Rogers, who works on the principle that the best way to motivate the team is endless jovial positivity. However, those of us who know him well are fully aware that it’s a thin veneer; anyone who has found themselves on the receiving end of his wrath when they haven’t followed his instructions to the letter will testify that he can bawl you out with the best of them. As far as I can see, Luke seems oblivious to this fact, and I have a nasty suspicion he’s misinterpreting Dr Rogers’s outwardly calm demeanour as a ‘laissez-faire’ attitude and cutting a few corners. I’ve already seen some raised eyebrows from the nurses when he’s made decisions without consulting Dr Rogers first. I’m also certain that, if Dr Rogers hasn’t noticed it yet, he will before the end of the shift.

I’m wondering whether I should say anything to him when the red phone rings to alert us of an incoming trauma case. A young man has fallen off some scaffolding and somehow impaled himself on a railing. The fire brigade has cut him free, but he’s understandably not in a good way. He’ll need to go to theatre for an emergency operation to remove it, but not until we’ve assessed and stabilised him.

‘Get to your stations, everyone,’ Dr Rogers commands as the ambulance pulls up outside. ‘Dr Milne, although this will probably be a fascinating training exercise for you, I need someone looking after our other patients so I’m going to release you. Any issues, come and find me, OK?’

‘Yes, Dr Rogers,’ Luke replies, but the disappointment is obvious on his face. Traumas such as this are thankfully rare, so I can see why he’d want to be part of the team. However, Dr Rogers is right. We can’t leave the rest of the A & E department short of doctors just because one man has done himself a nasty mischief.

‘This is David Turner,’ the chief paramedic informs us as they wheel in the patient. He’s covered with a blanket, but the outline of the railing is clearly visible underneath it. ‘He fell from a height of just over a metre onto a cast-iron ornamental railing, which passed straight through him. He’s conscious and we’ve given him Entonox for the pain. He’s breathing unaided, but his blood pressure is low and falling. There’s not sufficient external bleeding to explain it, so there’s a likelihood of internal haemorrhage.’