‘I don’t want food. I just want Prue to be all right.’

They sat in silence for a while. Stuart had picked up a magazine from a table in the relatives’ room on one of his frequent can’t-sit-here-doing-nothing wanders, and started thumbing through it. It was one of those country living glossies that in no way resembled the country life he was familiar with, but it wasn’t easy to concentrate anyway so he put it down again. ‘Well, I think I might pop out and find a vending machine. Or a shop. There must be one downstairs. I’m in need of a strong coffee, and maybe a sandwich. Are you sure I can’t get you anything? Starving yourself until you faint won’t really be of any help to Prue when she comes round, will it?’

‘Oh, suit yourself.’

It was very quiet when he’d gone. The minute hand on the clock on the wall clicked with every movement as it made its way rhythmically round the big white face, there was a hum of passing traffic from the street down below, and various pieces of machinery buzzed and beeped both inside and outside the room. But, above them all, was the slow, reassuring sound of Prue’s breathing. Not one of those ventilator machines doing it for her. She was breathing for herself. Faith closed her eyes and thanked God for that.

Her mobile vibrated in her bag, making her jump. She had switched it to silent, worried that if it were to ring some officious member of staff might point to the warning signs on the walls and tell her to turn it off altogether. She pulled it out and looked at the screen. It was Joe Barton. Just a month or so ago he would have been the first person she would have called as soon as this terrible thing had happened. He was one of Prue’s oldest friends long before he had become her boyfriend, and he’d been the little boy Faith had always been so fond of and felt so protective of once his own mother had died, but now … Whatever hopes Prue had had for their future had been cruelly dashed and Prue had been left humiliated and heart-broken.

Faith hesitated for a moment before answering. Their spat wasn’t her business. Joe and his father were old family friends. His brother was Stuart’s business partner. She couldn’t ignore him. The poor boy would be worried. Of course he would. The least she could do was update him, put him out of his misery.

‘Joe?’ She kept her voice low to avoid getting told off by some passing nurse. ‘Yes, we’re at the hospital now. They’re keeping her sedated for a while, so she’s sleeping, but they say she’ll be okay. Oh, God, I hope they’re right. Her head’s all bandaged up and she’s got some minor burns on her stomach and her arm. I don’t know. Hot water, so they say. The police are staying close by, waiting to talk to her as soon as she’s awake. No, no idea who did it, or why. Yes, okay, if you’re sure. You do know that she might not want to see you? Right. See you later then. We’ll be here. We’re not planning on going anywhere. Now, just hang on while I give you the address of the hospital, and which ward …’