The intrusive sound of an alarm broke the morning silence. Rita groaned, rolling over in her bed and slamming a hand down on the snooze button. She opened one eye blearily, vaguely registering the light streaming through the gap in the curtains before squeezing it shut again and nestling into her duvet. At a push she could manage another five minutes in bed before she needed to get up for work. Besides, it was cold outside and the world beneath the covers was warm and inviting. Sighing deeply, the blonde tugged her legs up to her chest, assuming a foetal position. Just five minutes...


The ED was unusually quiet that morning, and the clipped sound of stabbing heels could be heard from down the corridor as the Clinical Lead made her way from her office to reception. She looked prim as ever, an ironed pencil skirt hugging her thighs and coming to rest just below her knees.

"Mrs Beauchamp," Noel called in greeting, a wide grimace plastered across his face as he addressed her. "You're looking particularly smart today. Can I help?"

"Yes, have you seen Rita?" Connie sounded familiarly exasperated as she dropped a stack of files onto the desk. "We're short staffed again and she's been absent a lot recently."

"She's not come in yet. Perhaps she's sick."

"Well it's not good enough," her tone was clipped as she replied, eyes lowered contemptuously to focus on the document she was signing. "Send her to my office when she finally sees fit to arrive."

Noel pulled a face as she snatched up a new pile of papers before turning away, her heels clicking against the floor. He sighed, sinking into his seat and scribbling down a reminder to speak to Rita as soon as he saw her. Even if he didn't have to speak to Mrs Beauchamp again that day, it was guaranteed to be a long one; the ice settling outside would surely result in a number of casualties, and he had overheard Charlie mentioning a few RTAs that had already occurred overnight.

"'Scuse me," an impatient voice from in front of the desk jerked him out of his thoughts, and the grimace returned to his face instantly. An old woman peered up at him through olive-rimmed spectacles. The top of her balding head barely reached the surface of the desk, and he stooped slightly to speak to her, adopting once again his carefree receptionist voice.

"Yes, how can I help you, madam?"

It was going to be a long shift.


Connie exhaled, descending into her chair with less grace than she'd hoped. There was a buzz from her pocket and she retrieved her phone, eyes rolling upwards briefly as she read Guy Self's name across the screen. For the third time that day, she decided, he would have to wait, and so she placed the device face down on the tabletop.

It wasn't that she didn't need to speak to him; on the contrary, there were several important matters that needed discussing, namely the quality of triage and the nursing staff. Yet she couldn't summon the energy to conduct a formal conversation with him - not now, at least. Besides, there were several more pressing matters at hand.

Rita Freeman.

The Clinical Lead steepled her fingers, elbows coming to rest on the desk as she thought. It was certainly unlike her to be absent so frequently; as far as she knew Rita was very proud of her job. Meaning that something was wrong. Noel had suggested that she was sick, and Connie supposed that it was feasible, and yet she hadn't rung in at all to announce it to management so that a cover could be arranged.

Giving in to her curiosity, Connie tugged her fingers apart and reached for the computer mouse to access the medical database. The page flashed up, and her hands danced across the keys to type the Clinical Nurse Manager's name. There was a distinct pause before she hit the return key; strictly speaking it was unprofessional of her to check up on Rita's medical records. But she needed a contact number, and it couldn't hurt to glance over her details whilst she found it. And, she added mentally, it was her job to know about every single member of staff working beneath her. Nobody could object to that.

Feeling like her actions were at least justified, she scanned the page, tapping at the downwards arrow key every so often. Of course, the contact number was positioned neatly at the top of the page, but she was hardly going to pass the opportunity to sneak a look at the nurse's history.

Connie frowned as she reached the bottom of the page. Yesterday's date was listed, with reference to a Dr Martins. She rested her chin on one hand. That name was certainly familiar, and she was certain she had referred patients to him before.

Paediatrics? No, definitely not. There was no chance Rita would need that area of medical care, as far as she was aware. Especially not with the track record of her husband. Connie frowned, fingers toying absent mindedly with the hem of her skirt.

Then it struck her. Of course. The elderly lady with leukaemia had been transferred just last week to-

Her heart sank.

Oncology.

Dr Martins was an oncologist.