When he was standing by the van, Colleen bent her head over his arm, shining the white light over his tattered sleeve. She made a small noise of sympathy and tugged at a piece of the material. Michael grunted with pain.

‘Okay. All right. Do you trust me, Michael?’

‘What?’

She looked up at him, smiling shyly. Again, he was struck by the delicacy of her.

‘I have a first aid kit back in my camper. I can try and see if I, uh, can make it better? But I’ll have to cut your sleeve off, I think, because it’s stuck in the wound. Although I think you’ll have to give up on this shirt anyway.’

Somewhere nearby, someone began plucking notes on a guitar, only to be laughingly shouted down by several others. For a moment, Michael found he couldn’t speak. Colleen still had her hand on his arm, apparently untroubled by the blood, and a few feet away, inside the van, a woman lay on a coarse blanket, her eyes staring sightlessly at nothing. It all seemed impossible. Colleen smiled encouragingly.

What is she?

‘Come on, my camper’s not far.’

She was parked up a little way from the others, which Michael was glad of. Inside, it was cramped and untidy, with all the chaos that indicated it was home to at least two young women who kept unsociable hours. Colleen made him sit on the thinly cushioned seat that ran along one wall, and then pulled down a green plastic box from one of the cupboards. As she did so, a packet of plasters shed its contents all over the sink.

‘Oh, whoops.’

Then she fetched some water and scraps of dry cloth, and a pair of huge fabric scissors. Seeing the look he gave them, she held them up, smiling.

‘They’re Charlie’s. She makes her own clothes.’

For the next few minutes, they fell into an awkward silence as Colleen cut his sleeve away, peeling the fabric back from his tacky skin. Next, she wet one of the cloths and used it to wipe the blood away. As she did so, he watched the soft curve of her pale neck as a thin blush of pink moved up it.

‘There, it’s not so bad, actually. Bit ragged, but …’ She opened a small, brown bottle and the stink of antiseptic flooded the small space. She wrinkled her nose. ‘Ugh. Hold still.’