Jill stepped out her car in the hospital car park. Her eyes fell straight onto the one car she'd hoped wouldn't be there. She knew it was going to be awkward between them, she thinking about what he'd done, and he probably either embarrassed that he'd kissed her at all, or resentful that she hadn't returned it. Her only hope was that he'd been too drunk to remember any of it.

She entered reception, head down, not in the mood to face the uptight receptionist and be on the receiving end of her sharp tongue. She was, to her disappointment behind the reception desk, meticulously writing on some file or other. How she longed to be greeted by Lizzie doodling or gossiping idly.

She sighed and stood, waiting for her files and list of house calls. That was something else that was different. No longer did she have to see patients on farms or in the middle of nowhere. She didn't miss the miles of undulating roads however, and her heels sinking into mud, and especially not the time when her shoe got stuck in a patch of particularly deep mud, and when she took her foot out of it, placed her foot, covered only by a pair of tights, in the mud.

She smiled at the memory. It was only after few days though that she found the funny side of it, after her foot was once again clean.

She drifted back into the present and her smile quickly turned into a frown as she realised Mrs Hander hadn't yet acknowledged her presence. She narrowed her eyes slightly, not in the mood for the woman's insolence. She wasn't in the mood for an argument either, so she decided to be pleasant, or at least civil.

"Good morning Mrs Hander." Her voice was sickly sweet, reminding her of how she'd spoken to Mr Harper the first time The Royal had the pleasure of being graced with his presence. Mr Middleditch had generously asked her to show him casualty.

Mrs Hander looked up, not even a twitch of a smile on her lips. Without a word, she reached beneath the desk, brought up a stack of papers and dropped them on her desk. She didn't even apologise when the half the stick slipped and scattered onto the floor at Jill's feet.

She wouldn't put it past the receptionist to have done it on purpose. Forcing herself not to say anything, knowing it would only get her into trouble, she bent down and began picking up the papers, half of which had come out of the files they belonged to. Another file dropped off the pile above her head, so she reached up quickly and brought the rest of them down to her level.

On her hands and knees, papers spread around her as she stuffed others into their respective files, she glanced up occasionally to see patients gazing down at her. When she was nearly finished, a pair of shoes came into her eye line. They stopped a couple of feet in front of her. She looked up to see that they belonged to Dave Harris, making no effort to hide the fact that he was ignoring her.

She kept glancing up, hoping he would meet her eyes so she could convey to him that she wasn't angry at him for what he'd done. He didn't however, and she knew it was up to her to make the first move. "Hello Dave." She called up with forced cheeriness. "Not too worse for wear I hope." She dropped her gaze for a moment as she slotted some papers into a folder. When looked back up, she met eyes that were almost without emotion. They only thing that betrayed him, and told her he was angry were his hands clenching and unclenching by his sides. He grunted some form of a greeting, more so that Mrs Hander hopefully wouldn't suspect anything, than wanting to speak to her, Jill thought. He turned his back on her and started a conversation with the receptionist.

Finally placing the last piece of paper into the last file, Jill gathered everything up and made her way to her office. She was slightly upset by the breakdown of their friendship, but it wasn't really as if they'd become close. It wasn't nearly close to the misery she'd felt all those months ago in Elsinby. And the misery she still felt.


"Doctor Weatherill!"

Jill spun on her heel in the corridor, halting her journey to Milner Ward. A slightly out of breath Lizzie faced her, a piece of paper clutched tightly in her hand.

"There's an emergency," she paused to look at the paper, "on North Bay. A man's slipped on the rocks and badly injured himself." She thrust the paper into Jill's hand. "I've got to go." She called before running back the way she'd come.

"Thanks Lizzie." Jill laughed at her retreating back. She shook her head, amused, and made her way swiftly to her office to collect her bag and coat.

She smiled to herself, thinking back to much earlier that morning, lying in bed, intertwined in Gordon's arms. As she stepped outside, the weather did nothing to dampen her mood, the sun beating steadily down on her, casting a comfortable warmth over her. She hummed softly to herself as she put her doctors' bag down to ferret in her handbag for her car keys. She fell silent though as she caught something in her peripheral vision. She scanned the area around her curiously. Her eyes fell to her mini, and she saw the movement again, only this time she could pinpoint what it was; a piece of paper trapped beneath her window screen wipers, the edge fluttering in the soft breeze. Her breathing stilled and her stomach churned. She lifted the wiper up and freed the paper, her heart beginning to pound with dread of what she was certain it contained. Her fingers fumbled with the neat folds, until she eventually opened it. She took in the one word scrawled on the otherwise white sheet-

Remember.

Although only one word, it was still enough to instil fear once more into her heart.