Greg is still in his fishing gear and I can tell where he was when he got the call. My husband must have come straight here.

‘I rang him,’ Lauren admits, plucking at her lip. ‘I was worried.’

I see Greg glance at BC, his hand on my arm, stroking softly. Then my husband looks at me. His lips form a tight, white line. Perhaps I should introduce my boss to my husband, but I can’t summon the necessary energy, to be honest. I should just like everyone to go away while I slip into the pleasant oblivion of sedation once more.

‘I should be going,’ Blake says, standing up to vacate his seat for Greg. He looks uncomfortable now that my husband is here and I don’t know why. ‘We’ve got to strip down the boat overnight.’

‘I’m sorry to put you out,’ I say.

‘Don’t be silly,’ BC chides. ‘As long as you’re all right.’ He looks like he might go to kiss me on the cheek, but thinks better of it. Then he strides off down the ward, head fixed forward, not looking at the other people in the rows of beds.

Greg takes up his place in the chair. I notice that he doesn’t kiss me.

‘Okay?’ he says.

Why does everyone say that to people who are patently ill or in pain and lying in hospital beds? ‘Of course I’m not okay,’ I want to scream. ‘Fine.’

‘I’m going to get off too,’ my sister says. ‘If that’s okay?’

‘You go ahead,’ I tell her. ‘You must be exhausted.’

Lauren gathers her things. ‘I’ll call you in the morning.’ She kisses my cheek. ‘Will you be all right?’

‘Yes, yes.’ Once everything stops hurting.

‘Try to get some sleep,’ she advises.

‘You too.’

Lauren smiles at that. ‘As if.’

‘You’ll be okay.’ I squeeze her hand.

‘So will you.’ Then she kisses Greg briefly and disappears.

Now my husband and I are left alone. And it seems as if he doesn’t know what to say. And neither do I.

‘Thanks for coming,’ I say, as if he’s a stranger.

‘I was worried,’ Greg says. I notice that he’s wringing his hands. ‘The nurse says you were drunk.’

Thanks for that, Nursie. ‘Tipsy,’ I correct. ‘Lauren and I got tipsy on Totally Tropical. It was much stronger than it appeared.’

‘And you fell off a ladder.’

‘Yes.’

‘I suppose this means that the Inca Trail is off the agenda?’ Is there a note of smugness in my husband’s voice? Maybe there’s even a glimmer of a smile at his lips. I could be imagining it, but perhaps I’m not.

‘No,’ I say calmly. ‘I could well be recovered in time.’

His face clouds over. ‘You can’t seriously still be thinking of going?’