The lunch itself went really well. Luke was looking frankly edible in light chinos and a light blue shirt, with the sleeves rolled up just far enough for me to appreciate his forearms. He was attentive, entertaining, and didn’t whine about his treatment from Dr Rogers once. He asked me lots of questions about my family and my experiences growing up, and I found him really easy to chat to. The only slightly weird moment in the whole conversation was when I was talking about my living arrangements, and I mentioned that it was just me and Mike most of the time. I think, like Sarah, he struggled with the idea that I could have a platonic relationship with Mike, given that we shared a flat and were evidently close, but I managed to reassure him in the end. At least, I hope I did.

If he’d invited me to go back to his for coffee or more, I definitely would have gone, but that didn’t happen. Instead, he apologetically explained how his mum wasn’t good with strangers and would promptly forget who I was every time she turned her back, so I’d be continually introducing myself to a terrified old woman. I could tell he was angling for an invitation back to mine, but I hadn’t planned for that and couldn’t remember whether Mike’s washing was spread on dryers around the place, or whether I’d made my bed this morning, so kept my mouth closed.

I’m now back in the thick of it on a Friday night shift, so I don’t have mental space for the delicious Dr Luke. Saturday is definitely the main night of the week for drink-related accidents, but Fridays run them a close second. So far tonight, our patients have included two men who decided to try to settle their differences by shoving broken glasses in each other’s faces, a woman who broke her ankle falling off a kerb in high heels, and another woman with a suspected fractured pelvis after she stepped into the road without looking and got hit by a car. It’s only 12.30 and we all know there’s plenty more to come. An already tense atmosphere isn’t helped by the fact that our lead consultant is Dr Patel, who famously has no tolerance for self-inflicted injuries, particularly those where alcohol or sex are the root cause.

‘For goodness’ sake,’ she muttered crossly as we sent the woman with the suspected pelvis fracture down to X-ray. ‘How difficult is it to look before you cross the road? I mean, we teach this shit in primary school, don’t we?’