I haven’t been avoiding Luke, exactly, but he’s noticed something is up. I obviously can’t tell him what’s on my mind, but he’s assumed it’s because I’m still pissed off with him about how he behaved and is being extra attentive. Normally, I’d be appreciative of his efforts, but I need time to get my head back into the right place, so I’ve had to invent reasons why we can’t meet as often, or why I’m not always in the mood for sex. I want to carry on trusting him, but I’m starting to understand how an oyster must feel when it gets a grain of sand inside the shell. There’s a nagging doubt that’s a constant itch in the back of my mind but, unlike the oyster, I doubt very much that it’s going to magically turn into a pearl.

Luckily, I also can’t tell him that I’m not speaking to Tash, as he’d obviously want to know why, so I’ve been able to use her as an excuse to avoid him on several occasions. However, as was bound to happen sooner or later, our shift patterns have fallen back in sync and I’m very aware of him staring at me all the way through the handover briefing.

‘Hello, stranger,’ he remarks when Dr Patel dismisses us. He’s positioned himself behind me so nobody can see his hand reach out to pat me on the bum.

‘Not at work,’ I tell him. To my surprise, he looks like I’ve slapped him.

‘Are you ashamed of me?’ he asks.

‘Of course not. I just like to keep my work and personal life separate. You of all people should be able to understand that,’ I can’t help adding a little sarcastically.

‘I see. And when you go on your break, will that be work time or personal time?’ His tone is bordering on petulant, and I’m starting to feel mildly irritated with him in return. Why can’t he understand that I need to focus 100 per cent on what I’m doing on shift, without him hovering around and trying to distract me? Also, now that I know we’ve been the subject of department gossip, I don’t want to fuel it further by going on my break with him. Thankfully, before I have to formulate an answer, the red telephone rings to let us know of a trauma coming in. As I’m closest, I answer it.

‘Gentleman aged sixty-one, found unresponsive in his home,’ the paramedic informs me. ‘Suspected overdose on paracetamol and vodka. We’ll be with you in seven minutes.’

I push Luke’s angst from my mind as the trauma team assembles. As soon as the ambulance arrives, the patient is rushed into the Rapid Assessment Triage unit.