There’s a short queue and while we wait I scan the desks to see if any of the cashiers I know are working today. I see Val through a glass screen in the back office but she is having a meeting and doesn’t look up. I’m pleased. I couldn’t bear having to explain to her what has happened.

‘Our turn,’ says Sonia.

I look up and see a green light flashing above the glass-protected screen. A young woman with her hair piled up in a messy bun sits behind it.

‘Hi there. How can I help you today?’ she says languidly.

‘Er, I’d like to check my balance,’ I say, gripping hold of the counter as a wave of dizziness comes over me.

‘You can do that at the cash points,’ says the girl, gesturing to the row of blinking machines on the far wall. ‘There’s no need to queue up here if you just want a balance.’

Sweat starts to gather on my forehead. I’m burning up despite the cool temperature in here. The girl looks at me warily.

‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘I’m just a bit …’

‘Are you okay, Maggie?’ says Sonia, who is standing next to me. ‘Do you need to sit down?’

I shake my head.

‘No, I’m fine,’ I say. ‘I just want to get this done.’

‘Mrs Allan’s just come out of hospital,’ says Sonia, picking up on the girl’s bemused expression. ‘She’s been in intensive care and she’s still a little fragile.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ says the girl. ‘Listen, how about I get one of my colleagues to come and talk to you? There’s a customer services suite with plenty of seats. Maybe that would be better if she’s still having difficulty on her feet.’

She addresses all of this to Sonia. I no longer exist.

‘I’ll go and get my colleague, Val, and she’ll come out and help you,’ says the girl, standing up.

‘No,’ I cry, putting my hands on to the counter, ‘No, that won’t be necessary. I don’t want to make a fuss.’

‘It’s no trouble,’ says the girl.

‘No, please. It’s fine.’

‘Okay,’ she says, sighing heavily. ‘Well, if you’re happy to use the cashpoints, they’re just over there.’

‘I can’t,’ I say, my head spinning. ‘I don’t have the … I mean, my memory was affected after the accident. I don’t remember my pin.’

‘Oh,’ says the girl, looking at me with narrowed eyes as though I’m a criminal. ‘Well, do you have any ID? A passport? Birth certificate.’

‘No,’ I say. ‘My husband got rid of them.’

The girl’s eyes widen.

‘I’m afraid I can’t help you then,’ says the girl. ‘For security reasons we need some ID.’