Nick, who had a lit cigarette in his right hand, now inhaled fiercely. But Stephen felt a surge of relief so intense that he had to fight to stop himself from laughing.

‘Nothing else? I mean, they’re going to be OK?’

‘What do you mean, nothing else? Isn’t that enough? You’ve broken the bones of our daughters, left them encased in bloody plaster of Paris like a pair of mummies. They won’t be able to write or paint for weeks. Cass won’t be able to play her flute. We’re going to have to cut up her food for her. Christ!’

Through force of habit, Stephen was at once intrigued to learn a new fact about Cass. He hadn’t known she even owned a flute, much less played one. He hadn’t noticed either of the sisters doing much painting or writing, either; but he didn’t say so. He just felt overwhelmed with relief that neither of them was seriously hurt. Young bones would mend, he knew that.

The consolation of understanding that Cass and Georgie were going to be all right was so great that the fact he was being removed from them hardly registered. He could maybe spend a week or two in London, he reasoned inwardly; come back after that, once Celia had calmed down.

‘I don’t know what happened back there. The road was empty, I …’

‘It’s pointless trying to justify it now. Celia wanted you to go after the henhouse fiasco. She said you’d make trouble and you have. I should’ve bloody listened.’

Stephen didn’t know what to say. ‘Oh mate, I’m just so sorry.’

Nick seemed to deflate a little, at this. He looked less puffed up with fury, more rumpled and tired.

‘We’ve been up all night, you can imagine. When the call came from the hospital we were absolutely shattered. Then we had hours of waiting before we could get them home. Celia’s completely done in.’

‘Do the girls know that I’m not coming back with you?’

‘No. They’re both asleep.’

‘Oh. Right.’

‘We didn’t see any point in prolonging the agony. Celia wasn’t in the best of tempers when she went to collect up your things, so it was rather rushed. But I don’t think she missed anything; you can always write if she has.’

‘Yeah, well, I only had the stuff that was already in my case, and some T-shirts on the chair.’

Stephen looked out of the window. He could see the green hills rising behind the sloping streets of bungalows. Neither of them spoke for a while.

The station’s name was displayed on a number of brown enamel signs, as well as the more modern-looking red ones. They came to a standstill and Nick made a point of pulling hard on the handbrake, as if demonstrating that he, at least, was a responsible driver.