She stood in front of the full-length mirror, surveying her appearance with satisfaction. In a dark red dress that highlighted her generous curves accessorised only by a thin silver bracelet and a clutch bag that matched the exact shade of the dress, she knew that he would be unable to resist her. He would tell her that she looked breathtaking and perhaps for a short time, she would allow herself to believe him. She would smile coyly and adjust her dress allowing him a brief glimpse of the delicate lace underwear that encased her breasts, knowing that it would send him while with lust and anticipation and then they would leave in separate cars, arriving separately at the party and behaving as friends, not lovers. It was easier that way – to keep work and play so firmly separate allowed her to maintain the pretence that she was on a different plane to those who she worked with. God forbid they should discover that there was a human bone in her body. She knew that he resented the fact that she insisted on keeping him under wraps but she also knew that he understood.

'Morning' Ric leaned languidly against the doorframe, a smile snaking lazily across his face as he watched her snoring lightly, lost in a post over-indulgence slumber. For a long time, she didn't reply but when he repeated himself, a hand crept out from beneath the sheets and pressed tightly over her eyes as light spilled in through the thin gauze curtains that covered the full length-bay windows that she had fallen in love with the moment she first stepped into the bedroom. At the time she had given little thought to the torment that would arise from them when she awoke with a hangover; she saw only their beauty and entertained romantic images of waking alongside her husband and spending lazy days in the large bed only stopping gazing out at the garden to turn and look into each other's eyes. It hadn't worked out that way.

'Go away' she mumbled, rolling over and pulling a pillow over her head to protect her from the assault on her senses 'it's the middle of the night'

'It's midday Connie' he sighed gently, moving closer to the bed and pulling the covers away from her 'you need to get up'

'I don't need to do anything' she retorted dully, too hungover and miserable for her voice to carry much conviction 'It's Sunday, I'm nearly forty years old and if I want to spend the whole day in bed feeling sorry for myself then I will' she added petulantly, pulling the covers back over her trembling white limbs that he had exposed, even her liberal application of false tan not succeeding in covering up the all over pallor that had come as a result of her hangover.

'You'd feel better if you had a shower' he remarked sagely, sitting beside her and sipping a coffee, watching with a vague sense of satisfaction as she grimaced, the aroma turning her stomach.

'I suppose you're going to tell me that this is no less than I deserve after last night' she told him bitterly, shuffling across the bed away from him, one hand placed delicately on top of her stomach, as if the contact would somehow stop it from churning.

'I wasn't actually, but if you want me to I will' a devilish smile crossed his face as he relented and drained his drink, putting the mug far out of her reach and lying back on the bed beside her 'You did get pretty…'

'Drunk. I know. I made a complete spectacle of myself and will by now be the talk of the hospital. You don't have to remind me, it's not a complete blank'

'Considering the amount of alcohol you consumed last night, by rights it should be' he eyed her with a look of curious amusement for a while 'was there a reason for last night's excess?'

'It was an open bar…'

'Which you drained' he finished for her with a smug smile 'how much do you actually recall about what you said last night?'

'I believe I shared some frank views on other members of staff with the assembled congregation' she stated carefully, wincing at the memory 'I told everyone that Zubin had been a sanctimonious hypocrite, that Diane was pathetic and that Chrissie… oh God, did I really say that?'

'That you swore that you'd seen her prostituting herself in Holby Central Station? Yes, you did. I believe you also said that she couldn't even give it away…' a smile crossed his lips as he imparted this piece of information 'but out of everyone, she was the only person who really deserved it'

'Is that the worst of it?' she enquired with trepidation, groaning quietly as he shook his head with an air of triumph, a smile spreading slowly across his mouth.

'You informed Tricia that the world would have been a better place if she had learnt the meaning of the world contraception and that you couldn't fathom how two people as nondescript as Tricia and Mark produced such a loathsome little tart. You then proceeded to announce to the room that you didn't miss your husband at all – that he was bad in bed – and then you cried'

'Ric, if I ever so much as look at a bottle of vodka again, please shoot me' she whimpered slightly, glancing up from her position curled in a ball with her head buried into a pillow, hiding her shame from the world.

'I tried to stop you' he informed her slightly smugly 'not very hard I admit. I didn't want you turning on me, you see. You know far too much that I didn't want announcing to an assembled party of our colleagues in the midst of your drunken rant'

'I'd never betray some of the things you told me' she whispered, going from mortified to mortally offended in one very quick step 'I thought you trusted me'

'Sober there's no one I trust more. Believe me, that part of your brain that kicks in before your mouth says something stupid was temporarily inactive last night, and I didn't want to take the risk' he frowned slightly and then reached out, stroking her face gently 'it doesn't mean that I love you any less'

'Don't use that word' she snarled slightly, pulling away from him and wrapping a bathrobe around her before stalking across the cold polished wooden panels towards the bathroom 'Michael used to say that, generally directly before he betrayed me'

'I'm not going to betray you Connie' he sighed gently, freezing to the spot as she glared at him, her barriers shooting up around her once again and he wanted to groan. He had spent weeks, months, attempting to break through them and yet sometimes all his hard work would be undone in one easy step and it would take days, sometimes weeks, for the damage to be repaired.

'Michael used to say that too' she snapped slightly, flinching away as he reached out to touch her, his hand barely grazing the soft skin of her forearm.

'Don't you trust me at all' he asked dully as she twitched with tension, her gaze flicking between her chosen escape route of the bathroom and the man that blocked her path, all at once taking on the expression of captured prey.

'This isn't about whether I trust you' she stalled slightly, her eyes widening as she pulled her gown more tightly around her, her naked state beneath the thin silk suddenly seeming inappropriate in the face of his latest line of questioning. She had always loathed conversations like this, yet Ric didn't seem able to get enough of them.

'This is only about your lack of trust in me Connie' he sighed sadly 'its about the fact that you don't trust anyone. We've been doing this for what? Five months now. I've told you things that not another living soul knows and you've told me precisely nothing'

'There's nothing to tell' she retorted quietly, flushing as he gave her a look filled with hurt and doubt. They both knew that she was lying.

'Oh come on Connie, no one's a blank sheet, not even you. Especially not you' his voice took on a cajoling quality and he reached out, taking her hand and attempting to pull her down beside him on the bed but she resisted 'talk to me Connie, please' his voice was wheedling, his eyes pleading but still she resisted, her own gaze taking on a frosty gaze. Under the right circumstances she loved to see a man reduced to begging but not when it was Ric. Not like this.

'I'm going for a shower' she pulled out of his grasp forcefully and stood staring back at him, rubbing her wrist where his tight grip had left an angry red ring on her delicate skin.

'Fine' his tones were clipped and angry as she moved into the bathroom, pausing only to glance back at him, an apologetic expression in her eyes. It was a vicious circle – he would never understand why she refused to open up unless she explained and she would never explain unless she opened up to him. It was why they had no future.