Someone came to take his blood pressure and shine a torch into each eye. Someone else took his pulse and asked if he’d been drinking. His limbs were checked over, his neck and back too. It all seemed to take a very long time. He wasn’t sure if this was really so, or whether it merely felt slow because he was very tired. At least the acid had worn off and the crying had made him feel less tainted, as if the tears were a sort of moral rinsing. Whatever came next was going to be worse than waiting around in a cubicle, of that he was certain. The police hadn’t asked him to breathe into a bag or anything; he wondered if that meant that they thought the accident hadn’t been his fault. But what had happened? Would he be prosecuted? Could he get deported? He wished he could picture what had occurred, but there was just the noise it had made, as loud as a jet engine; as loud as any sound he’d ever heard. Louder. In the split second before he blacked out it had sounded as if something the size of a small building had exploded on the roof of the car. Or someone had fired a gun. He hadn’t had a clue what it was, the sound had been so overwhelming and sudden that he hadn’t had time to think.

He felt hungry. He wished he could see Cass and Georgie, ask them what had happened. Eventually a nurse put her head around the curtain and said, ‘Someone’s come to pick you up.’

Stephen stood and walked back along the corridor towards the entrance. The linoleum on the floor made the soles of his shoes squeak. He remembered this later, he wasn’t sure why. The waiting area seemed different in daylight, less like a dingy last-chance saloon, more brisk; like a departure hall at a coach station. Nick was standing near the doorway.

‘Hi Stephen,’ he said.

‘Nick, look, I’m really, really sorry. You know I’d never want to hurt the girls, right?’

‘Let’s get out of here,’ said Nick.

Stephen followed him out across the car park to Celia’s car.

‘Celia’s put your stuff together, so we can go straight to the station. I think that’s the easiest way to do this.’

‘Pardon me?’ Stephen said.

‘Your things. Celia went up to your room and packed for you. She doesn’t want to have to see you; doesn’t want you coming back to the farm. She’s too upset.’

Stephen couldn’t take in what he was hearing. ‘Are they all right? Are the girls OK?’

‘Georgie’s broken her collarbone, she’s in a lot of pain. Cass’s wrist is broken. She’s got a really nasty bruise under her chin from the impact. It’s absolutely awful, frankly.’