Leo has apparently been out for a smoke, she notes with a pang of envy when she hears the front door open and then close again, hard enough to rattle the windows, as usual. But right now, wrapped in serenity, she can’t be bothered to work up any level of irritation.

Moments later, Leo falls onto the other end of the sofa and pulls Karen’s foot onto his lap while he reaches for the remote. A faint smell of cigarette smoke and she realises it’s going to be a long time before she can indulge in such pleasures again. A glass of wine here and there, no more than that, the doctor had said. And absolutely no cigarettes.

‘There’s a good film on after the news,’ Leo says. ‘Spotlight, I think it might even have won an Oscar.’

‘What’s it about?’

‘Catholic priests groping little kids.’

‘Sounds delightful . . . No, just kidding,’ she adds quickly. ‘I don’t mind watching it.’

And she thinks to herself that even a film like that won’t be able to quell the feeling flowing through her. If she can stay awake, that is; Leo’s thumbs working the arch of her right foot is making her eyelids feel heavy. She watches the news anchor solemnly read out the evening’s headlines with half-closed eyes.

Just as she’s about to drift off, Leo’s voice makes her jump.

‘Fuck! Shit!’

His suddenly vice-like grip on her foot in combination with the grimness of his voice shatters the restful silence and turns her deep, even breaths into shallow panting.

The temporary respite is definitely over.

The segment is about the traffic accident: helicopter views of mile-long traffic jams, sweeping shots of frustrated drivers getting out of their cars to stretch their legs, someone being interviewed, saying something Karen fails to catch. And then a few more quick shots of the crashed car.

Only then does she see what Leo must have seen. A rusty, light blue Volkswagen Beetle with its front smashed into the mountainside.

‘Are you sure?’ she says.

He nods.

‘Don’t think there’s another clunker like that anywhere. Besides, I recognise the registration number.’

Chapter 41

41

Ten minutes to five, she gives up. After three hours of dozing off and waking back up with a start, she pushes the duvet aside and sits up. She looks over her shoulder, at the other side of the bed.

Leo, in her bed, for the first time in weeks. And for a moment, all she wants is to crawl back into the warmth. Pick up where they left off a few hours earlier and sink back into the feeling that this is right. Forget about all the things that can go wrong down the line. And about a light blue Volkswagen with its front smashed into the side of a mountain.