Renee gave Fernandez the floor very early. His fleshy face was flushed with self-importance as he waffled on a bit about this theory and that, Renee pacing lightly behind him, her deadly stance disguised in casual lilac batwings. Lilac mohair. I tried to concentrate, staring hard at Fernandez’s chins that wobbled as he spoke. I wondered if Renee’s jumper was as scratchy as it looked. My leg was really aching, and my little toe had just begun to itch inside the cast when my name resounded like a whip-crack round the studio.

My head snapped up; apparently Renee was introducing me. There was really no escape now as ‘Victim Maggie Warren’ bounced off the walls to the sympathy of those devils in the audience. I forced a smile (though I knew Charlie would have much preferred a sob) and then Renee was on me. She came right up and took the chair beside me, perching on the very edge so she could really get to me. I tried not to lean away. Our knees were actually touching and I could smell her cloying scent, so sweet and sickly that my stomach churned – or perhaps that was the booze. I realised too late I couldn’t back up in my seat without my crutch clattering loudly to the ground. I was stranded there; so near that I could count the open pores round her nose. She held my hand, and looked deep into my eyes. Her coloured contact lenses were unnaturally bright in the hideous studio light, and I stifled the urge to laugh hysterically.

‘Mr Fernandez has written a book on stress,’ Renee breathed at me, her Welsh lilt so soft and caring. ‘He thinks it’s in the mind, and we must fight to overcome it,’ – Mr Fernandez nodded smugly, his chins juddering like Sunday custard in a jug – ‘but, Maggie, you’re testament to the fact that a terrible accident can utterly change your life, aren’t you?’

Was I?

‘Am I?’

I blinked. The muscle in my cheek twitched with an influx of adrenaline.

Renee frowned. Her pancake cracked a little. Charlie coughed most unsubtly from the sidelines. Utter silence fell; the audience leaned forward as one. They waited. I waited. Renee covered my hand kindly (she hadn’t so much as shaken it in the past two years) with both of hers – and then I pulled it back quickly, suppressing an exclamation. I was sure she’d pinched me; just a tiny pinch, so tiny that no one else would know, but a pinch nevertheless. I absorbed Charlie’s scowl; remembered his words the other night. I breathed deeply. Auto-drive clicked on.