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Anurse wasn’t supposed to have favourite patients, but it was hard not to adore Keira Cleveland. She always stood out because she was young, didn’t look as if she belonged in intensive care and was usually awake. All three were unusual for ICU patients. Most of the time, the people I looked after were unconscious or so unwell that they didn’t know what was going on around them. With Keira, I could have long conversations throughout the night; anything from political discussions to swooning over the new junior doctor. Today, it was the latter.

“Where do they find these people?” she giggled. “Do they have a special scholarship for pretty men at medical school?”

“You always seem to be here when the good-looking doctors are on shift. Trust me, they’re not all like that. And besides, you don’t want to be with a doctor. Or a nurse. Or anyone working in healthcare.”

Keira laughed. “You sound jaded.”

“I’m experienced. Tried it, failed, tried again, regretted it. No, if I ever date again, it will be someone as far removed from medicine as possible.” I sighed as I remembered my last relationship – if you could call it that. It had lasted all of three weeks. Sophie, the pretty redhead from geriatrics downstairs, had looked like a great match at first. Until I’d realised she had zero interest in anyone but herself. Not what you’d expect in a registered nurse, but oh well. I’d seen her in the staff canteen two days ago and she’d ignored me completely. At least the sex had been good.

“Did I tell you I signed up for a dating agency?” Keira said.

“No. I didn’t know they still existed. Isn’t everyone on apps nowadays?”

She rolled her eyes. “I tried that. As soon as people find out that even the smallest infection can land me in hospital, they stop chatting. It’s too complicated. Too inconvenient.”

I squeezed her hand. She was warm. Finally. Her heart rhythm looked stable again as well. The latest bloods had shown that her potassium was climbing again. Hopefully she could go to a normal ward in the morning.

“You should sign up,” Keira said cheerfully. “They have a really high success rate. And they match not just based on your likes and dislikes, but they actually do a DNA test and search for people who are genetically compatible with you. I was supposed to meet my first match tomorrow, but then I ended up in here again.”

“Anyone promising?”

“They don’t tell you anything about them! It’s frustrating but also kind of exciting. It sounds like they’ve got some rich and important people who want to stay anonymous until you meet them. But they’re all vetted and the agency provides a chaperone if you want. They even offer these all-inclusive trips to exotic locations to meet your matches there, but with my health... Well, I thought it would be safer to do a normal date here rather than on some tropical island.”

She tried to hide the pain but I knew her well enough to see it. Living with a chronic condition that could end you up in hospital at a moment’s notice made things like holidays difficult.

I gave her a big smile. “I really hope you find someone. And as much as I want you to tell me how your date goes, I don’t want to see you in here again for a while. Even though you’re my favourite patient.”

Keira grinned. “I know I am. Which is why I’m going to help you. Pass me my phone, please.”

“What are you planning?”

Her smile turned evil. “I’m going to sign you up for the dating agency.”

I groaned. “I’m a nurse. I can’t afford stuff like that.”

“It’s free for women. Sexist, I know, but convenient for us. Please, Robyn.”

Now would be a good time to go on my break. But Keira was looking at me with those big doe eyes and there was nothing I could do to resist.

“All right,” I sighed. “But I’m not taking any saucy pictures.”

“Can I be bridesmaid if this works out?”

I laughed. “Only if I get to be at your wedding.”

A week later, I got home from a 12-hour shift, ready to collapse into my bed. My last act before sleeping for at least ten hours was opening my mail. One envelope immediately caught my eye. Thick, expensive paper. An actual wax seal on the back. And my name and address written in fountain pen. There was no information about the sender on the envelope.

I prolonged the suspense by first making myself a cup of tea and rummaging for a granola bar in the depths of my pantry cupboard. Then I went through the other mail: bills, ads, something about a planning application down the road. I yawned. Boring.

Ripping open the fancy envelope didn’t feel right, so I got some scissors and gently, slowly cut it open. Nursing skills for the win. Inside was an equally thick card with an embossed logo. It was very familiar. A kilted cherub with a bow and arrow. The logo of the dating agency I’d applied to, Hot Tatties. I’d popped by their office a few days ago to give them a quick spit sample for their analysis. They’d said it could take weeks or months to find a match. I hadn’t expected anything so quickly.

Dear Robyn,

We are pleased to inform you that we have identified a potential match for you.

Due to special circumstances, we won’t be able to arrange a traditional date locally. Instead, we are offering you a weekend trip into the Scottish Highlands where you will hopefully be able to meet your chosen match.

Naturally, five-star accommodation, meals and transport will be provided by the Hot Tatties agency.