Lucy shut the staffroom door harder than was strictly necessary. So much so that Patrick Spiller, the ED registrar, looked up from his mug of coffee.
"Was there any need for that?" he demanded, glaring at her.
Lucy ignored him. Patrick Spiller: all charm that one. He was never happy, always grumpy, always picking faults in other people's work. Lucy didn't really mind him that much though, at least not as much as everyone else seemed to. He left her alone, didn't keep inviting her out places she didn't want to go or berate her for not looking as happy as Chloe or Anna all the time. He left her in peace with her thoughts and feelings, and she couldn't help feeling a tiny bit grateful for that.
She shoved her overflowing bag into her locker and took another look at herself in the mirror there. She looked even worse than she had first thing this morning, but it couldn't be helped. She pulled her still wet hair into a pony tail, bundling it in as small a knot as possible. Her once neat fringe was getting to an unmanageable stage and it flopped back into her eyes. She shoved two hair grips in firmly and shut her locker with a bang.
Patrick glanced up again. "Happy as usual today then, Lucy?" He was so sarcastic sometimes.
"Oh shut up," Lucy replied, giving him a withering look. She was on her way out by the time he replied.
"Well, don't blame you." he sighed. "Not everyone has something to be cheerful about."
Lucy hesitated, before deciding it was just Patrick being Patrick and she continued out to the cubicles, hoping no one else would remark on either her lateness or her bad humour.
"It's about time!" Duffy exclaimed as Lucy walked in. That girl always looked a mess, she thought, not exactly the best advert for the ward. Not that she entirely approved of Chloe's standard face full of make-up, but at least she looked presentable. Lucy always looked so… she didn't want to use the word, but sort of… scraggy and unkempt. Like some sort of wild pony. Now that Duffy thought about it, that was a pretty good analogy to use. Lucy was stick thin and her eyes were large and dark and darted around like some untamed brumby. She was fairly sure that the young nurse wouldn't appreciate the comparison though.
"I know, I'm sorry," Lucy agreed, avoiding meeting Duffy's gaze. "Are we busy today?" She hoped not. At least then she could feel less guilty about being - she looked at the clock - forty-five minutes late.
Duffy wondered on what planet Lucy was living. You only had to look around to see they were rushed off their feet! With Anna in hospital herself and Collette looking after her daughter Natalie, they were down two nurses, not to mention the fact that Patrick was not only on some other planet, but a whole other universe today. And they were trying to organise Josh and Collette's wedding too, after yesterday's disaster.
Eventually Duffy sighed It wasn't really Lucy's fault after all. "Just a bit. You can go and take over from Dillon in cubicle four if you like. Easy job, some stitches in a boy's hand. Think you can manage that?"
Lucy nodded, glad that Duffy was too busy to waste time berating her, and headed to the cubicle. Dillon Cahill glanced up from where he was suturing a teenage boy's hand. Dillon was attractive Lucy supposed; tall, blond, blue eyes, chiselled jaw. Every time she saw him, she was impressed by his model looks. Nice too, if you were interested in that kind of thing.
"Duffy said I could take over from you," she said.
Dillon frowned. "Really? Well I'm almost done, really, Liam's not quite skilled enough at bmxing yet to prove much of a problem." He grinned at the boy. Lucy almost envied him for a second. It was a long time since she'd been able to joke with a patient like that.
The boy snorted. "I could thrash you," he challenged Dillon.
"Probably," Dillon agreed. He tied off the ends and snipped the thread. "Right, that's done then. There's nothing for you to do here, Luce."
Lucy visibly flinched at the name. "Okay," she said nodding slowly. "And it's Lucy," she added coldly, pulling the curtain closed behind her.
"Where the hell is that Yorkshire idiot when you need him?" Lara Stone, SHO, demanded, as she rifled through a pile of test results. "For once I could actually do with his input! Where is he, Dillon?" She turned her attention towards the nurse crossly. Usually she couldn't get rid of Patrick, he'd linger around offering his "helpful" advice and generally irritating her.
Dillon shrugged as he filled out a patient's file. "Search me. Last I saw of him, he was stalking off to Max's old… I mean, Max's office." He winced at the slip. Max Gallagher, the ED consultant until recently, was suspended pending investigation, thanks to Patrick's intervention. Another case of him meddling when he wasn't wanted.
Lara paused, acknowledging Dillon's mistake, before saying, "What is up with him today? He's just so stroppy and snappy and…"
"Patrick?" Chloe supplied the adjective jovially. "All the usual traits then. Can you come and look at my patient when you're done there?"
Lara looked at Dillon pointedly. "You see what I mean? I can't do all of his work and mine and -" she checked no one was listening, "put up with bloody Philippa as well!" She followed Chloe to cubicle seven.
Lucy walked to the nurses' station and rubbed a name off the board firmly. Dillon watched her. Lucy Hart was pretty in her own quiet unassuming way. Never looked particularly well groomed, she looked too thin too. Her eyes had dark shadows under them, and she always looked tired. But she was pretty. Quick-tempered though, as she'd proved earlier with her sharp retort to what had been a simple slip of the tongue. Now she wouldn't even look at him. Maybe he should apologise.
"Listen, Lucy, about before…" he began. "I didn't mean to offend you…"
"It's fine," Lucy replied, still not looking at him.
"No its not," Dillon insisted. "I was wrong, if you like being called Lucy…"
"Look its cool, alright?" Lucy shot him a look and then turned round to walk back out to reception. Dillon blinked in surprise at her sudden departure, before returning to his paper work.
