Maybe the police officer. Maybe Laura. Was she there? Something told me over and over that she was. Or was at least nearby.

‘She’s getting agitated,’ a disembodied voice said.

Of course I was getting agitated. Where was Laura? Why couldn’t I hear her voice?

I tried to speak but my stupid mouth still wouldn’t move and I knew I was crying, tears of frustration, but I couldn’t feel them on my face.

I was tired. I wanted to close my eyes.

‘Elizabeth,’ I heard and opened my eyes again.

A paramedic. Was it the same one as before? I didn’t know.

‘Can you stay with me? Try to stay calm and we’re going to help you. Can you squeeze my hand?’

I looked at her. I was scared now because nothing made sense. I tried to move my hands but I don’t know if I managed it or not.

I was aware of moving. Being pushed. Outside. I saw a dog, looking on from the door where the man stood. The man. Was he the policeman? Was he my husband? Or him? I couldn’t find the name in my head as pain washed over me.

The man blurred as they loaded me into the ambulance. I could see him swim in and out of focus until I was sure I was seeing the ghost of someone I used to know.

That boy.

I blinked and he disappeared.

The doors of the ambulance were closed. Through the back window I could see the old farmhouse. It had never looked imposing before. But its shadow against the fading light made me shiver.

‘Are you okay, Elizabeth?’ the paramedic asked.

I couldn’t answer, but even if I could, I doubt I would have known what to say. Something was very, very wrong and I’d never been so scared in my life.

I was so tired that despite the pain in my head, and the noise in the ward outside, I could barely keep my eyes open. I had no idea what time it was, except that it was dark. I couldn’t remember what day it was, either. Struggled to remember why I was here.

Memories slipped in and slipped out again just as quickly. Doctors all around me. Soft voices. It was hard to pinpoint which of those memories related to today and which had been pulled from the recesses of my mind.

Someone had mentioned a stroke. I’d tried to answer – my words muddled, slurred. I felt some tingling in my right hand – the pull of the cannula in my vein if I tried to move. My left hand, my left side, continued to be useless.

That policeman, I couldn’t remember his name, he stayed with me for a while. Told me he’d contacted my son-in-law. I wondered why he hadn’t contacted Laura. Maybe she was at work …