Part of me was angry, like I wanted to slam myself into a wall. Another part of me wanted to sit and cry. Instead of my fantasy holiday in Montreal, I was staring through a window in a hospital hallway, watching Angela Porter struggle against three nurses. Vivienne joined me, handing over her records.

"They brought her in this morning. Lab results haven't come back yet but I think she's OD'd on some kind of methamphetamine."

"Crystal Meth. She's used it since I was thirteen. Before that, it was cocaine and weed." I confirmed, looking through her folder. In the back was my birth record. Induced labour on the 22nd of January 1960 at The Queen Elizabeth University Hospital, Glasgow at 7:34 AM. Angela always said it was snowing like a blizzard, hence the name Ivory.

"I'm too old for this shit, Vivienne."

I put my hands behind my head and rested against the wall. Just 7hours ago, I was in a different country, settling in on a bed made of golden velvet. Now, I was watching my past life reel in my head like a horror film.

"A nurse's work is never over." She commented, patting my back. Vivienne was all I had in that moment, and I had never needed her so badly.

"I've got break now. Let's go get dinner and come back when the dust settles. It's no good for you to see her like this, Luce." Vivienne hooked her arm around my waist and pulled me away, leading me to the elevator.

The hospital cafeteria reminded me of night shift work. How I would work myself until my feet ached and I could barely keep my eyes open. We sat side by side on plastic chairs, matching chicken salad with garlic aioli.

"So, how's married life?"

"He still farts in his sleep. You got anything going on?"

Vivienne hesitated to answer, just shaking her head.

"I thought I found a guy..." Her voice trailed off and I knew she didn't want to continue her sentence.

"We ate this on our first shift here. The same salad with the exact same ingredients. Some things never change." I interrupted. Her expression lightened as I talked. I picked up her fork and stabbed some greenery, steering it up and towards her face.

"Here comes the aeroplane, Vivienne. Vrrrrrrrrroooooooo." She laughed as I shoved a forkful of food in her mouth. I had never been so unprofessional in a hospital, but we both needed it.

When I returned, Angela was half-asleep. I tried to ignore the way she looked exactly like me. The hair, oversize Jagger-esque mouth, under her dark eyelids were stormy eyes.

"I'll leave you two." Vivienne whispered as I sat down. I grabbed her hand and asked her to stay. To help me not feel alone. She sat dragged another chair over to my side of the room and sat down beside me, resting her head on my shoulder.

"I want her booked in to the best detoxing and rehabilitation facility in the UK. I don't care about the cost. I'll talk to Ro and we'll deal with it. Why am I doing this for her? She ruined my life but part of me knows she's still a patient that needs help." I reeled, mainly to myself.

"Lucy?" The whisper from the bed shook me back into reality. I froze in my place, unable to breathe or speak.

"Do you really think your husband will do that?"

I stood up and looked down at her for a single second, resisting the urge to cry.

"You just focus on pulling yourself out of this, I'll pick up the pieces like I always did." I walked into the hallway and leant against the nurses' desk, dizzy with anxiety. I made my way down to the ward where I felt at home: Children's wing.

The pastel walls were home. A marshmallow surround that calmed even the most hyperactive children. I seemed to slide past every room, peeking in to make sure everyone was asleep. By that night, staff word had spread to the ward that there was an overdose patient and I was somehow involved, so when I made my way back to the desk, Erica was waiting with a phone and a blanket.

"International calls are ready and Matron said you can have one of the couches if you need it." She offered as I hugged her.