The doctors had told the police that he might not remember much. He might have short-term amnesia. It might be worse than that. He might have brain damage.

‘Will? Can you hear me?’

Will turned his head, very slowly, his mouth hanging slightly open, his lips dry. The police officer watched him working his jaw, like an old woman chewing on nothing. It was hopeless. The guy was a vegetable.

Will’s hand fluttered on the covers, gesturing to the side of the bed.

‘Hey, nurse,’ said the policeman. ‘He wants something.’

The fingers came up to the mouth.

‘Water,’ said the nurse. ‘He wants water. He’s asking for it.’

Christ, thought the cop, he’s like an infant. This is horrible.

The nurse held the water to Will’s lips, and he drank, his throat jumping, water running down his chin. He sighed, and licked his lips.

‘As a matter of fact,’ he said, in a voice woozier and fainter than normal, ‘it’s all starting to come back to me.’

Chapter 32

Chapter 32

Andy had not seen Christine since he got back to England. He knew that she knew, that his daughter had grassed on him – why else was Christine not calling? When they said farewell, she’d been keen, affectionate, demonstrative, much more so than she had been during their marriage. Well, if she wanted him back that much, why not? It was ridiculous, this charade of a divorce, with separate establishments to maintain, seeing the kids on his own. Christine was so much better at all that stuff than he was. Andy wanted nothing more than to get back to normal with Christine, to come home, to pick up where they left off.

But now, the phone wasn’t ringing, and there could only be one explanation for that. Isabelle – whom Andy always assumed was on his side – had let the cat out of the bag. And she was quite a cat, his Rosa, whom he’d been seeing for about six months and hoped to get at least another year out of. It was so much easier conducting these affairs without needing to lie. No more ‘I’m going to leave my wife’, no more sneaking around in hotels and empty flats. But it was also a lot less fun. Women tended to be more demanding if they knew you were actually single. They put up with all sorts of crap if you were unhappily married; single men, however, were expected to toe the line. And without the frisson of concealment, affairs became relationships. Andy wasn’t too sure he wanted relationships. He had Christine for that.