‘Not much good trying to talk to him for some time yet,’ he heard the voice. ‘I know you’ll see to everything that’s necessary, sister. I’ll be ready for him about twelve.’

After that, nothing was clear for a long time, perhaps days. He felt them inject things into him and move him now and then. The blankets folded themselves tightly about his face, and the cotton wool sprouted from his ears and filled his mouth. The screens were always round his bed. Sometimes, when he woke up, there were electric lights burning. That was night. It was day when they were off, because you could see without them. Grotesque frag­ments of talk mingled with his dreams; reality hung its head defeated.

Then the time came when he woke up properly. He could tell he was awake. Things seemed clear and normal; the lights were not burning; it was day, probably morning. There was a morning feeling in the place. The nurse noticed that he seemed better. ‘You seem better,’ she told him. He moved his right hand down the bed to his waist and below. Plaster, heavy and stiff. Inside were his legs, lying quietly, waiting to see if they would ever serve him again. Poor legs, he felt sorry for them. Never did any harm. A few tears came into his eyes.

Then the sister and a man he had never seen before were standing by his bed. The question again: can you tell us what happened to you? I’m too clever, he thought. I won’t remember. I’ve forgotten all about it.

‘You see,’ the sister said, ‘you were found lying by the road­side, but your injuries aren’t really the type that we associate with people who are knocked down by cars. They seemed to suggest that you had, say, fallen from the pillion of a motor-cycle.’

‘I can’t remember,’ he said.

‘Don’t you remember anything?’ said the man quickly. ‘What you were doing there or anything?’

Mustn’t overdo it. ‘Oh yes,’ he said. ‘I remember who I am. I remember my name.’ He told them his name.

‘Yes, we know that,’ said the sister. ‘We got your name and address from things in your pocket. But don’t you remember the accident?’

‘Had you been drinking?’ the man put in.

‘No,’ he said obstinately. ‘I hadn’t been drinking. I don’t remember what I was doing. I don’t remember the accident. I was sober but I don’t remember.’

‘Do you remember definitely that you hadn’t been drinking?’ the man asked him.

He shut his eyes. ‘I feel tired,’ he said.