‘He’s just gone for a scan,’ and when she looked at her watch, she realised at least at this time of the morning, there wasn’t too much hanging about – it was too early for day appointments and too late for drunks to clog the place up. All they could do now was hope for the best.

*

It was less than an hour later when a nurse called Maxine told Liv there was a girl looking for her at the desk, but it seemed as if time had been fractured in some strange way, as if she was somehow working outside the normal confines – it was shock, she was pretty sure about that.

‘Liv?’ the girl asked. She was no more than twenty-four, strikingly pretty, red hair, cherub lips and skin that looked as if it was made of porcelain – she was five eleven if she was an inch, willowy, more than thin. A model?

‘Hi,’ Liv said and smiled at the girl. ‘Estelle?’ She realised this could only be Estelle – because she would absolutely remember meeting this girl otherwise.

‘Yes. I’m Estelle. I’m here to see Finn,’ she said and there was no mistaking the worry that hung about her.

‘He’s…’ Liv checked her watch again. ‘At the moment, he’s down at radiology, but he should be back up at any minute.’ She bit her lip, God, she hoped he was all right. She hadn’t mentioned his cardiac event on the phone, feeling she’d imparted enough bad news for one conversation. ‘They’re doing a CT scan.’ She saw the girl’s eyes widen. ‘Don’t worry, that’s normal. He was struck by a motorbike.’ She didn’t need to know all the details – the sickening thud, saving Liv and the fact that he was thrown so far into the road. She didn’t need to hear about the blood at his ear and the fact that the CT scan was all about checking to see if there was a brain aneurysm. Liv shivered. The last time she’d prayed so hard for anyone was… Rachel. ‘We just have to make sure that there’s no internal bleeding. It’s not painful and he’ll be transferred back up to A&E then, hopefully.’

‘Hopefully?’

‘Yes.’ Hopefully he wouldn’t need surgery and there was no point mentioning intensive care just yet. With a little luck, Finn O’Connell would have gotten off as lightly as the motorcyclist, although, deep down, Liv knew that he probably wasn’t going to be as lucky.

‘So, where do I go?’ the girl asked and Liv wondered if she was even twenty-four – she sounded about twelve now; she reached out and put her arm around the girl’s shoulder.