Outside, in the warm September light that held a hint of orange, I waited for the same minicab firm to send another car to take me home. I should have been thinking about the reading and marking I would be able to get done but instead I was thinking about how unimpressive the bandage looked. I could have squeezed my trainer over it if I’d pulled the laces out, but had hopped out to the entrance holding the trainer in my hand because I wanted passers-by to see I was actually injured. A kind of delayed exhaustion had set in and I felt upset I had not got a badge of some kind for all this. I couldn’t work out whether I felt still nauseous or just a bit lonely – it’s easy to confuse the two sometimes. A ‘few days’ rest’ was going to cause Adrian all sorts of problems – the last Supply they got in to replace me, when I was on INSET in the summer term, left my classroom in tears. The girls did the humming thing on her – one of them starts to hum, very soft and low, and the others join in one by one. The teacher goes crazy trying to work out who to tell off. That Suranne was going to take any substitute to pieces in five minutes.

When I get home I’ll call Mum, I thought. She’ll panic a bit, and want to come over with soup, and then I can get irritated and insist I don’t need any help. There are times when what you need in order to feel better is for your mum to annoy you with a bit of fussing.

I stood waiting outside the door, leaning awkwardly against the rough breezeblock wall and thinking that my toes were cold-looking and ugly where they protruded from the bandage – I hadn’t even put my sock back on. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a man pass me, going into the building. I had a vague impression of height, a slender body beneath a dark grey coat, black hair with a single streak of silver, pale features. As he passed, I noticed that he gave me a look. I clocked a grey-eyed gaze, directness in his stare. I looked back, then looked away.

‘Hello,’ he said.

I’m not sure what you would call the motionless equivalent of a double take – a no-take, an internal take – whatever you’d call it, I took it. He had been passing, going into the building, but then he was standing in front of me. I had noticed him from the corner of my eye but then he had presented himself in front of me.

My damaged ankle gave me courage. It legitimised me.

‘Hello,’ I said back. ‘You look familiar.’ This wasn’t true and we both knew it.

He gestured down towards the ankle with his chin.

‘Bruised?’