I thought the nurse might have said something next about being right as rain in no time, right as the rain I could see falling in vertical lines through that little window. Rain was never really right, though, was it, not unless you gardened like my father and – I had a revelation.

‘Have I gone mad?’ I enquired politely. ‘Is this the loony bin?’ This time the nurse caught my words.

‘Not mad, no, Maggie. You’ve had an accident. You’re in hospital.’

‘Accident?’

‘Just slip your sleeve up so I can take your blood pressure. Can you tell me how you feel now?’ she asked me kindly, but actually I couldn’t, because I didn’t know. I gazed at her blankly. Well, I did know I felt calm. Calm, but sort of bewildered.

‘You’re in shock, dear. And the doctor’s given you something to monitor the pain.’ The nurse tightened the band round my arm until it pinched. ‘Morphine.’

‘Ouch. I can’t seem to –’ I gazed at the nurse again. ‘I can’t think what happened. It’s funny, though. Was there –’ I stopped again.

‘What?’ the nurse prompted. ‘What do you think, Maggie?’

‘I keep thinking about a horse. Did I – did I fall off a horse?’ But I didn’t remember being on a horse yesterday. I could vaguely remember a riding lesson from years ago, somewhere in the countryside; remembered my mother waving gaily from the gate of the school. It must have been a long time ago. I remembered that my hat had been too big, that it used to rattle down over my eyes as I bobbed along until I was pink and out of breath and couldn’t see anything – not my mother, not the waving – only my own small hands beneath me, clutching the pony’s mane as valiantly I tried to retain control.

‘There was – I think there might have been a horse.’ The nurse seemed alarmed suddenly. She paused for a moment, thinking. ‘You were on –’

The consultant arrived at the foot of the bed with a flick of his pristine white coat. He was very tall and he had a face rather like an eagle, I thought. Yes, an eagle. His nose was a downward curve, like a cruel beak. He glanced at the chart at the foot of my bed, then at me.

‘Ms Warren.’

‘Yes.’

‘Feeling better?’

Better than what?

‘I’m not – I don’t know really.’

‘Vitals all fine, sir.’ The nurse peeled the band off my arm and popped something bleeping in my ear.

‘Good, good.’ He inspected my lip. ‘Nice job with the sutures. Bruising?’

‘All external, apparently.’ The nurse took the bleeping thing out.

‘It’s just –’ I cut in.

‘What?’ The doctor seemed impatient, ready to move on to the next bed. The one with the curtains right round it. Tight around it.

‘I can’t remember what happened. Why I’m here.’