Now the warm night air came in through the open window, denser somehow than daytime air, as if soft dry brushes were caressing his face. They climbed the track, up and up. The roots of trees twisted in the high banks which lined the lane. Lit up by the headlights they looked like something from a fairy tale, gnarled places where goblins or fairies might gather. They processed through a series of inky glades where branches met above the lane and made the night darker. Stephen drove very slowly.

When they came to Tregony it was as if a spell had broken. Everything felt normal again, or almost. The small quiet streets were orderly. The feeling of dread Stephen had been carrying began to ebb. Once they got back to Stony Hill Farm, he thought, they could have bowls of cereal at the kitchen table and laugh off the evening as just one of those nights when nothing quite falls into place. It was funny: you could have the perfect place and the perfect setting – a whole farmhouse to yourselves, far down a track where no neighbours would tell you off if the music got too loud – and yet a party just didn’t come together. He wondered now if Cass would tell them why she’d wanted to go home, whether something had happened. Probably not. She tended to keep things to herself.

Emerging from the western edge of town, Stephen turned on to the big road. Not long to go now. There was very little traffic at this time of the night; or morning, as it now was. He accelerated as Georgie put her hand on his thigh, feeling lighter than he had all evening. And then out of nowhere there was a sound like a bomb going off.

He was lying on a wide grass verge by the side of the road. Someone must’ve lifted him out of the driver’s seat, or had he climbed out himself? But where was the car? Where were Georgie and Cass?

Someone was saying his name.

‘Stephen,’ he heard. ‘Stephen. We’re going to put you in the ambulance now, OK?’

‘I can walk. You don’t have to carry me,’ he said.

‘We’re going to pop you on to the trolley, my love, just to be on the safe side. We don’t know if you’ve broken anything.’

‘I’m OK. Really, I’m OK,’ he said. But he didn’t know if he was. He felt sore and exhausted. Tears began to roll down his cheeks. He wished with all his heart that he was at home. He wished his mum would come out of the night and hold his hand.