‘Hey,’ he said glancing at his watch and then taking in her casual clothes. ‘For a minute I thought it was later than I realised and you were coming on shift.’ He looked disappointed. It was a long night here, with constant obs and form-filling. These patients would not be pressing buzzers for help with their reading lights, nor would they need to be transferred for x-rays or to other wards.

‘No. I’m just looking in on Finn.’

‘Is he a friend of yours?’ Morgan asked, obviously a little more relaxed about the visiting rules than some of his colleagues.

‘Yes,’ she said. It was a white lie as much to save Morgan getting into trouble as it was to make things easier for herself. ‘Any change?’

‘He hasn’t come round yet, if that’s what you’re hoping for, but he’s stable and his vitals are definitely stronger. You can take a look at his chart; I’m just finished filling it in for the night.’ He handed it to her and she brought it across to Finn’s bedside.

Liv sat there in the broken silence of the ward for the next hour, somehow content. All Finn O’Connell had to do was open his eyes, and although she knew that was a big order, she had a feeling that he was strong – his obs confirmed that much. Liv closed her eyes, remembered standing opposite him at the traffic lights before the accident. He was tall and broad, but it was more than that. There was a sort of vitality to him that struck her and that was it, wasn’t it? He seemed to be so very much alive compared to every other grey face around them.

Then again, if he had Estelle to go home to (and perhaps a lover called M on the side), maybe there was a very good reason for him looking like he had lots to live for, she reminded herself. She smiled then, because, she supposed, he was probably what her mother would have called a lovable rogue. Perhaps he was a girl-in-every-port sort of guy. He was certainly good-looking enough to get away with it.