That would not be for several more hours, Duffy had anticipated. And so in the meantime he made the short, cold walk from Woolwich Crown Court to Belmarsh Prison, to visit the injured Nizar Mansour on the prison’s hospital wing. It was a journey he made with both hope and dread.

Hope that Mansour would finally be awake, for the reassurance that he had suffered no lasting physical damage.

And dread for the news of Mansour’s sister that Duffy would have to pass on if he was awake.

It was a dilemma Duffy did not ultimately face; the call came much sooner than expected. He’d not yet reached the hospital wing when he was intercepted by a prison guard and informed that he had a call waiting from New Scotland Yard.

The news from Bull made Duffy leave the prison immediately. He called Sarah as he did so but she remained unavailable. It was only as he passed through the prison’s outer reception that he realised why.

Sarah was there, alongside her cameraman, demanding access to an official and to be told what had happened to Nizar Mansour. The story Duffy had given her that morning.

And the story she abandoned as soon as he told her the news about Michael.

The next fifty-six minutes had passed in silence, save for the sound of Duffy’s engine as he ferried Sarah through the London snow-bound traffic, determined to get her to Michael’s side.

They reached the main reception of the Chelsea and Westminster Hospital within a minute of joining the Fulham Road. Sarah’s passenger door was already opening as Duffy screeched the car to a stop.

‘Don’t wait for me,’ he said as Sarah climbed out. ‘I’ll park and I’ll be in right after. Get yourself moving, lass.’

Sarah didn’t reply. For a moment, she didn’t do anything. She seemed to freeze. All she could do was stare at the building’s entrance, as the thoughts hit her like waves.

Michael . . . Michael’s hurt . . . What if . . . And . . . And the baby . . . he doesn’t even know . . .

She felt herself grow dizzy. A return of the nausea that had plagued her for days. Only this time it was not just her stomach. It was . . . everywhere, making her head spin.

She stepped forward. A forced movement, and a weak one. It caused her to stumble. Only the thin signpost she grasped for stability kept her upright.

For a moment Sarah was unsure if she could take another step. If she could deal with what she might find inside. What if Michael never woke up? What if she never got to tell him. What if . . .

Every possible negative thought crossed her mind at once. Exaggerated by the hormones flowing through her system. She felt her legs begin to buckle under their weight, as the world began to rotate around her.

She felt a strong arm under her own. It halted her fall, and then it lifted her back upright.