‘It was just a knock on the head. I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself. I’d appreciate it if you all went.’

They look at each other, wring their hands, and do things with their eyebrows.

‘Nurse?’ I give it a little urgency. ‘Nurse?’

Jenny Bolling, the nurse who has been looking after me, comes to the ward, and the group accepts defeat, shaking their heads. I tell her I’m tired, and she looks apologetically at my visitors and suggests they be on their way. Elaine puts a hand on my blanket-covered knee. ‘When you want to go home, give me a call.’ The hand leaves my knee and gives a little wave, and she leaves, too. I realise I really am tired, and am almost asleep by the time the nurse pulls the curtain all the way around my bed.

The hospital lets me stay until the morning. Nobody is allowed to stay in hospital very long anymore. I call Marko and ask him if he can run me home. I don’t feel any embarrassment at asking him for a favour when I booted them all out of the hospital last night. He immediately offers to come straight in, even though I can hear he is on some sort of heavy machinery and I suspect is probably in the middle of something important. Then I ring Elaine, and tell her Marko has offered to take me home. I don’t know why I do this, except that some sort of instinct tells me I don’t need to be any closer to Elaine. She is noncommittal, and says she’ll see me soon. I have to acknowledge that it is possible Elaine is the one who knocked me out. That’s not fair, I know, but it is a possibility.

I am waiting for Marko on the kerb in front of casualty. His king cab ute swings in too fast for an emergency area. He almost leaps out of his machine, and takes a few large steps to stand next to me as if I were an invalid in need of help. I’m not keen on moving my head rapidly, but otherwise I feel pretty good. Marko shakes my hand, looking like he has enough vitality for both of us. He is a big man with huge hands, a large head, and thick, brown, disorderly hair. He is nervously saying things like, ‘How ya going, mate?’ and ‘You’re looking better.’

When we get into his ute, he points a thumb towards the back seat. ‘The women cooked you a whole lot of meals. You’re not going to starve.’

I don’t look back. I know what casseroles and lasagnes look like. There are painkillers to pick up from the pharmacy, and then we are out of town, and I feel myself relax. Marko is only just sitting still in his seat. There are things on his mind.