2001

Duffy sat in the corner of the bar getting drunk and feeling generally sorry for herself. She took another sip of her Bacardi and Coke and tried not to remember the parties that she'd been to in the past. It was too painful to realise that her life had come to a seemingly never-ending procession of leaving dos. And with each one she lost another friend and felt that much more alone.

This time it was Patrick who was going. She never thought that she would get so upset about him leaving after the rocky way their relationship started, but with Andrew dead, Charlie in Canada, and Max and Josh paired off with Amanda and Colette respectively she had ended up quite close to the miserable blighter.

Just one more sip, she told herself, then home to the children. She'd done what was expected of her, turned up, gone through all the pleasantries, now most people were up and dancing. They wouldn't even miss her. She stood up a little shakily and tried to put her jacket on. It wouldn't behave; the sleeve seemed to be taunting her, closing up every time her hand got close.

"Stupid, little...grrrr!" She mumbled as her difficulties escalated into a full-blown war with the disobedient article of clothing.

"Having trouble?" Patrick slumped into Duffy's empty seat looking somewhat worse for wear him self.

"No. I am perfickally, perfectally, per...quite capable of putting on my coat. Thank you very much" She said triumphantly getting one arm in and trying to work out how to get the other in too.

"Aha. Can see that." He smirked. He picked up her empty glass and waved it in her direction. "So how many of these have you had tonight?"

"Three." He burst out laughing, the alcohol in his own system making it difficult for him to stop. Duffy stood, arms crossed, nearly wearing her jacket and looking unamused. When his laughing eventually subsided she continued, "I'm not a big drinker, I haven't built up a tolerance like some people I could mention." She went back to fussing with her coat.

"Are you leaving or something?" Patrick said when she had finally sorted herself out and had picked up her handbag.

"No dear, you're leaving, hence the party." She swept her arm out to indicate all their colleagues enjoying themselves around them and nearly killed a member of the bar staff in the process.

"I meant," He said in his most patronising voice, "are you leaving the party now? It's still early."

"There's not much point in staying just so I can sit here and get drunk on my own, is there?"

"Hmm." He flopped back on the chair in a position reminiscent of a discarded rag doll.

"What do you mean 'hmm'?"

"Well it's my party and no one's paying me any attention at all."

"Poor diddums."

"That's not nice."

"I don't need lessons in being nice from you Patrick Sshpiller."

"Spiller."

"That's what I said... I going home." She turned and started to walk gingerly to the door, trying to look dignified.

"I'll miss you." Patrick called out. A confession brought about by a bit too much to drink, but nevertheless true. Duffy whirled around to face him, tripped over her own feet and landed in a heap on the floor. Patrick rushed to help her but couldn't resist laughing as he did so. He pulled her to her feet, holding onto her arms to steady her.

"Will you?" She asked.

"Will I what?"

"Miss me."

"A bit I suppose. Will you miss me?"

"No." But she smiled a drunken lopsided smile at him to show she didn't mean it. They stood looking at each other for a few seconds, trying to find a way of saying goodbye that wouldn't get too sentimental. It was Patrick who spoke first.

"I wanted to thank you for everything you've done since Holly left. I appreciate it. And I wanted to ask a favour..."

"Oh yeah?"

"If she ever gets in touch Duffy, with you or the hospital, or you hear where she is, will you tell me. Please." He looked so solemn and Duffy pondered whether that was the first time he'd ever said 'please' in his life. She didn't have the heart to tell him that that she didn't think she would get in touch or that even if she did it was doubtful that they'd be able to pick up where they left off.

"OK"

"Promise?"

"I promise Patrick, you have my word." She stretched out to hug him and he let her, smiling to him self at the mad old woman's affections.

Outside the bar Holly loitered in the doorway. The woman she'd phoned on reception at the hospital had told her that all the staff were just inside that building. She stepped forward. It would be so good to see them, her friends. It had been so lonely for her since she left; it had been a mistake to run away. She took another step. She could hear the music coming from inside, the sound of laughter invited her in. She wanted to see them, to see him. But would he want to see her? She stepped back again and was knocked further out of the way by a group of drunken men spilling on to the street.

"You all right darlin'?" One said.

"Fine, I'm fine." She muttered and headed off down the street.

****************

2019

Dr Holly Milton stood at the entrance to St Mary's paediatric unit and took a deep breath. She could see her reflection in the glass panelling of the doorway. She gave herself a once over. Her brown hair was pulled up into a loose bun on top of her head. That was a bad move, she decided noticing what she thought were a few stray grey hairs around her ears. She had taken a great deal of care choosing an outfit, wanting to be practical, comfortable but still smart. She had, in the end, plumped for a blue cotton trouser suit teamed with flat black shoes.

"You'll do" she whispered to herself, before pressing the entry-com button and announcing her arrival.

******************

Andie staggered into the kitchen in her night-dress and slippers and helped herself to some orange juice from the fridge. Her mother's Cornflakes bowl lay discarded in the sink; she'd left the house for her job at the hospital hours ago. It had ended up being a late night in front of her computer as Andie had tried to piece together just what had happened at Holby City Hospital before she was even born.

She knew parts of the story already. Her mother had told her that her father had died when someone accidentally pushed him down some stairs. It was something that Andie had accepted at face value, an accident that could've happened to anyone but did happen to her Dad. Unfortunate, tragic even but not sinister. Now though it seemed like there was a good deal more behind the story.

It had taken a lot of digging but she'd eventually found the names of those two people in the photograph. One SHO by the name of Holly Miles and the on call anaesthetist, Thomas Harvey. The plot had thickened when she realised that Harvey had died the same night as her father although none of the newspapers of the time gave much more information than that.

So at three 'o' clock in the morning, with Duffy fast asleep across the landing, Andie had crept downstairs to the study to hunt for more information in the big old bureau her mother had always stopped her from looking in. Now it all started to make sense, why Duffy got so upset about the picture of Harvey. He'd been the one who'd pushed Andrew down the stairs, but she still had no idea how Holly Miles was involved.

Asking her mother would be the easiest course of action but something told her that that probably wasn't the best idea right now. She could only think of one other person who might know what was going on. She finished her breakfast and went back upstairs too get dressed.

****************

"So basically that's the department!" Sister Trudy MacIntosh finished as she led Holly back to the consultant's office.

"And a very impressive one at that! I'm not sure I've ever seen so many cheerful children in a peads ward before." Holly said as she sank into the comfortable leather chair behind her desk. It still felt odd though, to be in charge, to be the one with the desk and the office. She looked around it, the soft green walls would compliment her favourite pot plants, with a few prints up and the paperweight that Trish had made her years ago at school it would be very comfortable indeed.

Holly was so busy trying to reorganise the room that she nearly forgot about the nurse standing patiently on the other side of the desk. Holly took her in too. She had a warm motherly appearance though could only have been in her mid thirties and long straw coloured hair that ran in a plait down her back.

"Is there anything else you need before you make your rounds doctor?" She asked in her soft Scottish voice.

"Um, yes, I would like the full notes for Lucy Parker, I noticed these only go back four years." She indicated one of the numerous files that were spread across her desk. To the untrained eye it looked like someone had dropped them from a great height, but Holly had it all organised, if untidy. "Oh and one more thing," She smiled warmly at the nurse, "please call me Holly, I like to keep things relatively informal."

"Of course...Holly, I'll get one of the SHO's to bring them in, they only arrived from Bridgefield General an hour ago."

Holly watched Trudy leave and relaxed into the chair. If nothing else at least the new job was going well, the ward had been well run and the staff she'd met so far were friendly and positive. If only she could sort things out with Trish her life would be damn near perfect.

Trudy bustled behind the desk in the administration area of the ward and eventually found the file that had only just been biked over from the other hospital but had already been covered by a dozen entries for the wards colouring competition. This week it was a fire breathing dragon and a knight waving his sword at it. Trudy smiled at the entries with their rainbow coloured, zig-zagged, polka dotted dragons. The competitions were young Peter's idea to try to keep the kids occupied. He even bought the little prizes out of his own pocket. He was a lot softer than he liked to let on.

"Hey Peter!" She called seeing the doctor round the corner.

"And what can I do for you?" He asked as he leant across the desk.

"You haven't met your new boss yet have you?"

"No, been too busy with little Jesse, he's been a bit worried about his operation this afternoon. What's she like?"

"Seems really nice, quite enthusiastic. Want's us to call her Holly. I think she's OK."

"Oh good." He grinned a little too widely.

"You just want your promotion!"

"That would be telling. Are they Lucy's notes?"

"Aha, Holly asked if she could see them, be a good opportunity to meet her..."

"Right then." He took the notes and took a deep breath. Ready to make a good impression on his boss.

****************

Trish flicked through the channels on the television. Cricket, golf, some old black and white film, cookery, gardening... the list of boring programmes seemed endless. She continued to flick, trying to make sentences out of the fragments of speech she was getting from each one.

After a minute or so she flicked the TV off completely and went to the phone, dialling her best friend in London's number. It rang a few times before being put through to the answering machine. She let a brief message about how terrible her new house was and then hung up, sighing heavily.

It was all right for her mother, starting her new job; she'd soon have new friends and an interesting life. Well at least an interesting life for an old person, but it was the holidays and Trish was stuck in a new place and didn't know anyone. Except her Mum. Well, if it took camping out at her mother's work to show her how bored she was that was what she was going to do. She opened the front door and strode off towards the bus stop.

****************

Patrick sat behind his desk chewing the end of a biro and frowning at the blank sheet of paper in front of him. Just a thousand words Patrick, she'd said. Didn't she have any idea how difficult that was? He started doodling a spiral in the top corner of the paper. Holly used to do that he remembered, when he was trying to help her study but she wasn't really in the mood. He scribbled it out, he didn't want to think about Holly, then he screwed up the paper, and he didn't want to think about Duffy either.

It was just as he launched the little ball of paper across the room in the general direction of the bin that the door opened to reveal his long time friend and technically his boss, James Farmer. James had been Patrick's consultant when he first moved out of Holby and they'd become firm friends. He was just about a decade older than Patrick and now worked on a more part time basis, often joking that the amount of hours that Patrick put in at the hospital meant he never really had to work at all.

"I see you're busy, shall I come back later?" He said sarcastically noticing the empty desk and the scrunched up missile on the floor.

"No, tell me something that'll cheer me up." Patrick responded.

"Oh God, it's not one of those days is it. I thought I had them all memorised, Holly's birthday, the day you met, the day she left you the first time, the day she left you the second time, the day of the... incident. I'm sure there isn't one I've forgotten..." He said dropping into the chair opposite Patrick and furrowing his brow in mock concentration.

"Ha ha."

"Sorry. What's up then?"

"Nothing," he lied, "just been one of those days."

"Well, don't forget that it's the fundraising dance on Friday. That'll cheer you up!" James laughed, he knew perfectly well that Patrick hated those formal functions with a passion that was quite undeserved.

"I'm sure you'll represent the department adequately James, I don't need to be there too."

"Oh come on Patrick, could be fun! You need to let your hair down a bit, you've been working far too hard recently and there are going to be a lot of people who are going to want to meet you."

"Great." He said as unenthusiastically as he could manage.

"Kelly wants me to ask you if you have a date yet." Patrick's face paled visibly. Kelly was James's daughter, several years younger than Patrick was but still far too old to have the sort of crush on him that she had. On the rare occasions that Patrick had been forced to be in the same room as her she had followed him around like a lovesick puppy and talked incessantly about her hair or her designer dress. If she weren't his best friend's daughter he would have told her where she could shove her designer dress a long time ago. As it was he just did his best to avoid her.

"Um..."

"Look I know you don't feel as strongly for her as she does for you but it's just one night. It'll make her day, her year even." He wanted to scream 'no' at the top of his voice but couldn't quite manage it, instead he said the next best thing.

"I've already got a date actually."

"But you weren't even going to come?"

"No, we were going somewhere else, but if we have to make an appearance then we will." He hoped that sounded convincing. James eyed him warily for a second then seemed to accept it.

"Well, well, well, you sly dog, you never told me you were seeing someone! I hope it works out for you this time mate. I look forward to meeting her." So do I, Patrick thought as his friend got up to leave.

Alone in his office again, he started to wonder where he could get a date from at such short notice. The screwed up paper on the floor started laughing at him. There was only one single woman that he knew and no one else at the hospital knew. He groaned inwardly, well aware that if he asked her he would never live it down and she would make it as difficult for him as possible. Still it had to be better than an evening with Kelly the leech.

He hesitantly picked up the phone, "Yes, could you get me the number for Lisa Bower's office at Holby City Hospital." He said, feeling like he'd just sold his soul to the devil.

****************

Holly looked up from her desk at the sound of rapping on her door.

"Come in!" She called cheerily. The door opened and a young man appeared and steeped into the room. "Lucy Parker's file I presume?" She asked him.

"Yes, Trudy said you'd like it brought in, Dr Milton." He said handing it over and trying to stand up straight and look professional at the same time.

She smiled at him, "Thank you...doctor...?"

"Oh, yes, I'm Peter Bower, one of your SHO's, pleased to meet you. He held out his hand and Holly took it as her brain started to process the information she'd just received.

"Did you just say Peter Bower?" She asked slowly, paying more attention to his features. She started to think she saw something familiar in them, but it couldn't be, Peter Bower must be a common name. Just because he bore a passing resemblance to the late Andrew Bower, didn't mean anything... She felt her heart start to beat faster. After all this time, when she'd been so careful to avoid everyone she once knew...

"Yeah. B-O-W-E-R. Is there something wrong Dr Milton?"

"No, of course not. Thank you for bringing me this file. That'll be all." She said as calmly as she could manage, fighting the urge to either tell him to get the hell out of her office or more realistically to run away herself.

"I thought we could go through the notes together, I haven't had a chance yet and Lucy is my patient." He replied, confused and frantically trying to work out what he'd done to upset her. Maybe it was something in his file, something Dr Levenshulme had written about his work.

"I'll get them brought to you when I'm finished Dr Bower." She hoped he hadn't heard the tremble in her voice as she said his name, a name that brought back far too many memories.

"OK" he conceded, afraid of upsetting her further. He was not a confrontational person at the best of times and had always prided himself on the quality of his work and his dedication to his job. Trudy had said that Holly Milton was a nice woman, friendly even, so it must just be him she didn't like. He exited the office with a great cloud above his head.

"Peter!" Andie flung herself down the corridor towards her big brother her long red hair flowing out behind her.

"Andie, what are you doing here? There isn't something wrong is there?" He asked her, concerned.

"Not exactly, I just wanted to talk to you about Dad."

"Now?"

"Yeah, It's important..."

"Andie, I'm at work I can't just drop everything." He replied, too distracted by his encounter with Dr Milton and too worried that she would see him chatting and think he was slacking off to pay his sister much attention.

"I know and I'm sorry but..."

"Andie, not now, understand. You know that you can always come and talk to me outside of work. Come round this evening, Sarah and I are having lasagne."

"But Peter!"

"Not now, I'll talk to you later kid, OK?" Her shoulders slumped. It was clear that he wasn't interested.

"Fine, later." He kissed her forehead and then disappeared back into the thick of the ward. Andie turned to make her way out of the ward contemplating if her other brother, Jake, would have been old enough to remember what had happened. She had just about decided it was unlikely when she collided with someone.

"Oi, watch it!" the someone said, straightening her tight black T-shirt emblazoned with the words 'Geranium Spade'.

"Sorry." Andie replied, flicking her hair back over her shoulder.

"You should look where you're going!"

"I said I'm sorry, didn't I? I like your T-shirt." Andie said, trying to pacify the girl in front of her who looked to be in a really bad mood.

"Got it at their concert last year. You a fan of the Spades?" she replied a bit wrong footed by Andie's comment.

"Me? Yeah! I've got their new album already."

"Can't have it's not out yet"

"I've got a friend in Canada, he sent it to me. I'm Andie by the way, are you a patient or a visitor?"

"Visitor, my Mum works here, just started today. I'm Trish."

"She the consultant? 'Cause my brother is a doctor here too."

"Yeah." Trish replied.

"I've got that album in my bag, if you wanna go to the canteen and listen to it?" Trish eyed her slightly suspiciously; she wasn't used to people trying to strike up friendships in the middle of hospital corridors. But then it beat hanging around being bored all day.

"OK, I suppose so." She shrugged. Andie started to lead her off down the corridor towards the canteen.

"Just moved here then, well, I'll tell you everything you need to know to survive Holby..."

Go to Part Four