docs of an evening, or watching TV in his flat. He hadn’t even been able to have sex to get his mind off the situation, and not for lack of offers; the stunning blonde surgical core trainee had been gagging for it at the pub.
The truth was, he hadn’t actually shagged anyone in weeks. These bloody dreams were messing with his head. He thought it might be better not seeing her everyday, but if anything it had actually made them worse. It seemed as though every time he closed his eyes a fresh image of Lou would pop into his mind, and now, not only was he confronted by half-naked visions of a happy, laughing Lou, but also by the awful look of pain on her beautiful face and the unshed tears in her eyes after he’d shouted at her.
As he strode into the rehab hospital and Lou looked up from the ward desk he realized that there was yet another image to haunt him: that of Lou’s blank face, her normally expressive eyes wiped clean of any emotion. His gut started churning and he had a strange feeling of panic.
‘Babes I…look I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have shouted at you in front of the mess like that. It was totally out of order.’
‘Forget about it,’ she said with a small formal smile that made the churning in Dylan’s gut step up a notch. ‘I’m sure you had your reasons. Let’s just try to get through this, okay?’ Dylan was about to say something, anything to wipe that cool detachment off her face and get back to the Lou he knew, when she suddenly shoved a piece of paper in his hand just before they were interrupted.
‘Right kids,’ Rich said as he sauntered up the desk, seeming oblivious to the tension crackling in the air. One of the many things Dylan hated about this guy was his habit of calling his juniors (bearing in mind that most of them were only a few years younger than him) kids. ‘What’s on the menu? Dylan?’
‘Um…’ Christ. He’d forgotten to print the list again, or go through the notes, or ask the ward staff about the patients.
‘Dylan,’ Lou prompted, ‘I think Dr Morris wants to start going through the list you’ve made.’ She widened her eyes at him and then nodded towards the paper in his hand. He looked down and realized that it was a patient list. No, not just a printed list, but one with notes in the margin by each patient.
All the information Dylan needed was there: reason for admission, social situation and progress, even down to level of mobility. It must have taken Lou ages. Rich was looking at Dylan with a smug expression, obviously waiting for him to fuck up. Dylan looked back at Lou; she was now making big eyes at him and raising her eyebrows, looking adorably frustrated. He felt himself relax slightly; anything was better than her dead expression from a moment ago.
He cleared his throat. ‘Right so, first patient is…Mr Townsend.’ He checked the list and saw that Lou had written all the bed numbers in bold by each name. Looking surreptitiously around the ward he caught sight of the number he needed and started striding over to what he hoped was the appropriate patient.
He glanced at Lou as he was reeling off the details from the list once they reached the patients, and his chest felt tight again. Gone was the animation in her features. She was back to the lifeless look from before.
As he continued to lead a seamless ward round (thanks to Lou’s copious notes) he was getting more and more angry. If Rich put his fucking hands on Lou one more time Dylan swore he would punch him right in his lecherous face. For her part Lou wasn’t exactly encouraging this, but at the same time she wasn’t putting any effort into overtly discouraging it either. She appeared to have morphed into a strangely robotic version of herself, her usual vibrancy and spirit only making brief appearances for the patients’ benefit.
‘Hi Alun.’ She smiled at the next patient whom Dylan recognized from the stroke ward. Alun’s resemblance in both appearance and personality to
The truth was, he hadn’t actually shagged anyone in weeks. These bloody dreams were messing with his head. He thought it might be better not seeing her everyday, but if anything it had actually made them worse. It seemed as though every time he closed his eyes a fresh image of Lou would pop into his mind, and now, not only was he confronted by half-naked visions of a happy, laughing Lou, but also by the awful look of pain on her beautiful face and the unshed tears in her eyes after he’d shouted at her.
As he strode into the rehab hospital and Lou looked up from the ward desk he realized that there was yet another image to haunt him: that of Lou’s blank face, her normally expressive eyes wiped clean of any emotion. His gut started churning and he had a strange feeling of panic.
‘Babes I…look I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have shouted at you in front of the mess like that. It was totally out of order.’
‘Forget about it,’ she said with a small formal smile that made the churning in Dylan’s gut step up a notch. ‘I’m sure you had your reasons. Let’s just try to get through this, okay?’ Dylan was about to say something, anything to wipe that cool detachment off her face and get back to the Lou he knew, when she suddenly shoved a piece of paper in his hand just before they were interrupted.
‘Right kids,’ Rich said as he sauntered up the desk, seeming oblivious to the tension crackling in the air. One of the many things Dylan hated about this guy was his habit of calling his juniors (bearing in mind that most of them were only a few years younger than him) kids. ‘What’s on the menu? Dylan?’
‘Um…’ Christ. He’d forgotten to print the list again, or go through the notes, or ask the ward staff about the patients.
‘Dylan,’ Lou prompted, ‘I think Dr Morris wants to start going through the list you’ve made.’ She widened her eyes at him and then nodded towards the paper in his hand. He looked down and realized that it was a patient list. No, not just a printed list, but one with notes in the margin by each patient.
All the information Dylan needed was there: reason for admission, social situation and progress, even down to level of mobility. It must have taken Lou ages. Rich was looking at Dylan with a smug expression, obviously waiting for him to fuck up. Dylan looked back at Lou; she was now making big eyes at him and raising her eyebrows, looking adorably frustrated. He felt himself relax slightly; anything was better than her dead expression from a moment ago.
He cleared his throat. ‘Right so, first patient is…Mr Townsend.’ He checked the list and saw that Lou had written all the bed numbers in bold by each name. Looking surreptitiously around the ward he caught sight of the number he needed and started striding over to what he hoped was the appropriate patient.
He glanced at Lou as he was reeling off the details from the list once they reached the patients, and his chest felt tight again. Gone was the animation in her features. She was back to the lifeless look from before.
As he continued to lead a seamless ward round (thanks to Lou’s copious notes) he was getting more and more angry. If Rich put his fucking hands on Lou one more time Dylan swore he would punch him right in his lecherous face. For her part Lou wasn’t exactly encouraging this, but at the same time she wasn’t putting any effort into overtly discouraging it either. She appeared to have morphed into a strangely robotic version of herself, her usual vibrancy and spirit only making brief appearances for the patients’ benefit.
‘Hi Alun.’ She smiled at the next patient whom Dylan recognized from the stroke ward. Alun’s resemblance in both appearance and personality to
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