It seemed the flat and all of Dublin had fallen into a sleeping silence, oppressive and judging. After a few minutes of sitting there feeling it close in on her, she decided to haul her bags down to the front door and wait for Pete to pick her up there. Never was she as happy to see him pull up against the footpath. She needed to get out of the city, maybe more than she’d realised. Now it felt as if this city couldn’t wait to see the back of her for the next few days. As if she would somehow be in the way if she had stayed here, even in her own flat; yes, she badly needed a break away from it all.

‘A penny for them,’ Pete asked as they drove out through Dublin’s deserted streets.

‘I think you can afford much more than that if you wanted to know what’s on my mind.’ She chuckled at him.

‘Perhaps, but how do I know they’re worth anything more?’

‘Cheek.’ She nudged him gently, but she had very few, if any, secrets from Pete. ‘All right, if you want to know, I’m just thinking about that guy that was involved in the accident before I left…’ And then more details about the whole story came spilling out, about the man at the traffic lights and how he’d basically saved her life.

‘And you’re sure you’re all right?’ He glanced across at her and there was no missing the worry etched out across his brows. ‘I mean, did they check you out? God Almighty, you could have been killed.’ She could see him clenching the steering wheel now and too late she realised how much something like this could upset him. He’d taken Rachel’s death so badly. Liv could see it for herself: he was never the same again afterwards, as if some little part of him died with his best friend that day in the hospital.

‘I’m fine, don’t worry. Of course they checked me out, not so much as a bruise on me.’ It was a lie, but what did one small fib matter when it came to giving someone peace of mind? Pete had enough to be worrying about – he’d just come out of a relationship that Liv had thought was The One for sure.

‘I suppose you’ll expect doughnuts now.’ He raised an eyebrow. It was a joke between them that went back to when they were small kids and she’d managed to wheedle the last doughnut from his mother just because she’d fallen off her bike and scratched her knee. Of course, she’d shared evenly three ways, but Pete had managed to conveniently forget that over the years.

‘Too right, I’ll need doughnuts and éclairs if you make a big deal out of it.’