‘Wrapped it around a power pole, total write-off. I went into a skid and next thing I knew there I was over this slope nearly into someone’s front garden. Talk about freaky! There were all these live wires draped over the bonnet and no one could get me out. And faces…you know how a whole crowd always gathers when there’s been an accident, can’t miss out on a good old gawk, can they? Specially with an ambulance waiting just in case. Exhibit Number One, that was me! All these faces peering in at me and talking in low voices like I was going to panic or something. I wasn’t panicky. It was sort of…well, like being in a dream. The only thing that worried me was maybe they wouldn’t get me out safely. I’d had a bit of a domestic with Jas that morning and I thought that if I died, how sad it would be, the last thing he’d remember was me yelling and screeching and calling him every name under the sun. And then the cops turned up, naturally…I mean, they always do for an accident, but some of those guys remember number plates and…other stuff. They really have it in for you. Out for promotion, they never let up…’

Her face suddenly twisted with what seemed to Seymour to be irrational rage, but when she caught his eye she added quickly, ‘Oh, these shoes are killing me! I shouldn’t have worn them. I shouldn’t have worn this top, either. Seymour, do you really think I look okay, you weren’t just being smarmy?’

‘You look all right, Angie, honest,’ Seymour said. He thought she looked sensational in her gelati-striped shirt of lime green, bright yellow and pink. Her hair was caught up on top of her head with a twist of pink cord and spiked like a pineapple. He’d had an easy time choosing earrings to go with all that, for amongst the collection he’d actually found a pair of huge, yellow plastic pineapples.

‘I’m not really sure about this top!’ Angie said anxiously, still seeking reassurance. ‘The neck’s a bit…well, you know. I guess I should have worn Susan-Jane instead. My mum’s always hassling me about the way I dress. She’d still like me to be wearing long white socks and tartan skirts.’

They reached the hospital and she told him again to wait outside by the goldfish pond. He watched the sad, introspective people seated on the veranda, then jumped, for Angie had returned and crept up behind him and was whispering evilly in his ear, ‘Psst! Liddle boy, vant some nice candy?’