Lara shook her shoulder-length blonde hair out of the pony tail it was loosely tied into and put the stethoscope round her neck into her locker. She was exhausted, having worked a double shift, and wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed. Preferably with Patrick. Only so he could make the coffee later, obviously.

"Good work on that last patient," Max congratulated her as she walked out of the main entrance, switching her mobile phone on as she went. "We'll make a registrar of you yet!"

"Yeah." Lara nodded. "Have you seen Patrick anywhere?"

Max snorted. "He stalked off a few minutes ago. Were you supposed to be meeting him or something?"

Lara could sense the consultant's mockery. She shrugged. "It was just a casual thing, no definite plans," she bluffed, as a text came through on her phone.

Sorry, Skip, but I'm heading over 2 Lucy's 4 a bit. Give me a ring when u get this and I'll explain.

Love Idiot xxx

Lara sighed heavily. She knew there was nothing going on between Patrick and Lucy, even if everyone else was still giving her pitying glances. It still hurt though, to be passed over for her yet again. She considered ringing him immediately to demand to know what was going on, but then stopped. His car had gone from the car park, and she didn't want him answering it while driving. She cursed herself instantly. Why the hell did she care so much about him? He clearly couldn't give a toss about her feelings, her needs. She sighed heavily, unlocked her car and started the engine. She'd ring him later.


Lucy shoved her head underneath the pillow and prayed whoever it was would go away and leave her alone. That doorbell was far too piercing to be legal, she was sure of it. She glanced at the clock from under the pillow. Four o'clock. If she went straight back to sleep now, she could have another two hours sleep and still be at the pub in plenty of time to meet Dillon. Two more hours, was it too much to ask for?

The doorbell rang again.

"Alright, alright." Lucy gave in, throwing her pillow across the bedroom, shoving her feet into a pair of battered slippers and wrenching a grey and filthy dressing gown from where she'd thrown it on the floor. She stumbled across the bottom floor flat, opened her door and then opened the front door, all ready to tell whoever it was to get the hell out of there.

"Patrick!" she yelped, instantly pulling the dressing gown tighter around her. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you… what are you doing in bed?" Patrick demanded, looking at her bleary eyes and bed hair. "It's four in the afternoon!"

"I was on a night shift!" Lucy retorted. Before Patrick could point out that he had been too she added, "And although you may gather your energy by draining it from others, normal human people like to sleep."

"Whatever. Can I come in?" he asked, stepping in without waiting for an answer. "This your flat?" he said, again striding into her open door without hesitation. Lucy shut the front door and hurried after him. The flat was a tip, as usual, a far cry from what she imagined Patrick's flat was like. For the first time in years she was actually ashamed of how she lived.

"So why exactly are you here?" she asked wearily, attempting to surreptitiously shove the plate full of cigarette butts under the sofa, and hide several pairs of knickers.

"Dillon told me about your date," Patrick replied, looking out the window. "Nice view. Well, if you like watching other people pass by."

Lucy took his momentary distraction as an opportunity to toss a pair of tights into her bedroom and shut the door. "Sorry, what has my date with Dillon got to do with you being here? Oh God!" she exclaimed, grabbing the sofa to steady herself as a thought came to her. "Not another challenge! Please, Patrick, I…"

"No, nothing like that." Patrick shook his head. "I actually came to see what you were going to wear for it."

Lucy stared at him. She could hardly believe what she was hearing. "You came to vet my outfit?"

"Sort of," Patrick agreed, turning back to face her. He took in her ensemble again. "I take it you'll be changing out of that."

Lucy pulled a face. "Funny. Of course. And it's all in hand."

"So what are you wearing?" Patrick asked.

Lucy thought frantically about what was clean and vaguely presentable. "Well, erm…" she stalled for time. "I thought maybe… erm… jeans?" she suggested hopefully.

Patrick rolled his eyes. "God, and you call yourself a woman! Come on, give us a look at your wardrobe." He strode across the living room and opened the bedroom door. Lucy followed him, horrified at the invasion.

Patrick rifled through her very untidy and sparse wardrobe. He'd never seen such a meagre selection of clothes. There were jeans, sure, but none really suitable for a hot date. And all the t-shirts were so faded and old, or else extremely dull and what would be referred to by a fashionista as "classic pieces".

"Christ, Lucy, you're not very up to date, are you?" he remarked, pulling a very old pair of jeans out, which had holes in both knees and tattered bottoms. "When was the last time you went shopping?"

"I'm not keen on shopping," Lucy shrugged. "So what?"

Patrick continued surveying the poor selection of clothes. "So what were you planning on wearing tonight?"

Lucy shrugged again and scouted around for a clean pair of jeans. Well, the cleanest pair. God, she really should do some washing. "These, I guess, and some top or other," she suggested, picking a black v neck top up off of the floor. A bit of Febreeze and an iron and it would be fine.

Patrick raised his eyebrows. "You're not serious?"

"Why not?" Lucy demanded. "What's wrong with them?"

"Nothing," Patrick lied. The jeans were awful, he could see straight away that they were miles too big for her slender frame. "But they're not very… well, date-like are they?"

"And since when did you become Trinny and Susannah?" Lucy asked.

"I didn't. But I'm a bloke, and I know what I'd think of a girl who turned up for a date with me wearing that," Patrick replied. "And it's not good."

"Well, fine," Lucy said irritably. "Dillon will just have to hate it, won't he?"

"Have you not got anything more kind of… well, dressy?" Patrick enquired, discarding a pair of black boring trousers. "You women usually have wardrobes fit to bursting with random crap."

"Well I don't," Lucy replied firmly, shoving the clothes he was throwing out back into the bottom of the wardrobe. "If you only came to insult me, then maybe you could save this until we're next at work. And let me get some sleep."

"I'm trying to help," Patrick reminded her. "Seriously, Lucy, think about how Dillon's feeling. Here's this girl he's been dying to ask out for ages, and she's finally said yes and then she turns up looking like it means absolutely nothing to her. That would be really hurtful."

Lucy stared at him. "Dying to ask out for ages? Me? Are you serious?"

Patrick shrugged. "He might have mentioned something. So are you going to try and make the effort now?"

Lucy bit her lip anxiously. Then she gave in. "The suitcase under the bed," she said quietly. "Have a look in it. I'm going to have a shower."

Patrick waited until she'd disappeared into the bathroom before pulling the case out. Inside it were some of the classiest and sexiest clothes he'd ever seen. A far cry from the modest Lucy Hart everyone knew. Maybe this was what she'd once been like. Maybe getting her back to normal was not going to be as simple as he'd first thought.