A bald trucker leaning against the side of the van eating a burger, nodded to him. Max nodded back. He bought tea and gripped the scalding polystyrene cup with both hands. What if the fall was serious? What if Jamie had brain damage? He pictured Emily’s tiny blue feet and the paramedics trying to save her. He put the cup back down and touched his brow. No way could he go through that again. His legs wobbled and gave way. Someone grabbed his arms as he was falling.

‘You all right, mate?’ The bald trucker held him up against his wide chest.

‘Not feeling great. Bad news about my boy,’ Max’s voice wavered. His eyes rimmed with tears, grateful for the man’s solid arms around his middle, wishing for a split second that his own dad had been there for him.

The man nodded. ‘You’re in shock. Let’s get some sugar in that tea, Barbs.’ He took the cup and reached out to the counter and the woman dropped in three cubes and stirred. ‘Here you are. You need to take a few minutes, mate.’

‘Thanks, it’s not far to go now, only a couple of junctions.’ Max finished his tea and returned to his car.

Back on the road, he began picturing what he might have to face when he arrived at the hospital. He imagined Ali weeping by Jamie’s bedside, blaming him, except it wasn’t her stricken face he could see, it was Maddy’s. Part of him wished he could turn the van around, drive away and disappear.

He had to pull himself together. Jamie would be fine. He switched on the radio and turned the music up to calm his thoughts, but his hands were trembling again, his legs cold and stiff. He lifted his right hand off the wheel and it hung in mid-air like a dog’s wounded paw. When he focused back on the road, the car was swerving across the white dashes into the next lane. The mournful sound of a lorry’s horn filled the misty night air. Max’s hand snapped back onto the wheel, his heart drumming in his chest.

Chapter Fifty

Max parked under a flickering sallow light in the hospital car park. Inside he followed signs to a desk behind a sliding window. A man with a bandage around his head spoke in a droning voice to the receptionist. A patch of fresh blood marked out the hollow of his eye. The man stepped aside, looking Max up and down.

‘I’m Jamie Wood’s dad. Head injury.’