Matty stumbled up, dragged the side-door shut and crammed into the far corner of the back seat, still holding the bottle, only able to see out of one eye. Beyond the window, Dale lay on his back, ribs moving up and down very slowly, before getting up again, standing at the window. The heel of his hand on the window. ‘You’re …’ he said.

The oblong night. He began backing away slowly, turned, kept walking.

Matty stayed hunched on the seat, fingers clamped around the neck of the broken bottle.

There was the sound of the car door opening and shutting. A long silence. The motor sputtered, stopped. Silence. The engine finally started, the wheels slowly crunching on the gravel, a sweep of lights.

The engine fading. Lights fading.

Then the only sound was Matty breathing, breaths that got higher and louder, breaths that made the dizziness come, and the night air and the empty parking bay, the wideness of the road, and the tarmac, flying up like a great, studded fist.

Music. Distant, otherworldly.

‘Hello? God. Hello?’

A fuzziness and a furred mouth and blurred words. Astonishing pain – cheek, face, ribs.

‘Is it your van there? Can you hear me?’

Matty blinked, slowly. Sat up.

‘Oh, thank God. We need to get you some help.’ A woman, hair hanging down, her face very close. A hand, midway up Matty’s spine.

‘You’ve had an accident, I think. Can I get you in my car? Get you to a hospital? It’s a way away, but I’ll drive you there. There’s no phone box for ages. I’ve not got a mobile phone.’

The taste of blood. A lurching stomach, and then Matty was crouched over and there was vomit on the road. One wrist wasn’t working.

‘Oh God. All right. Let’s see if – do you think you can get up?’

Gruel-like saliva, spat out. ‘No hospital.’

‘What’s that you’re saying?’

Matty made the words louder, forced them out of an acrid, scratchy throat. ‘No hospital.’

‘But you’re—’

The van. The blood in the van. Matty rose, limped to the open side-door. A small sob.

‘It’s your van, is it?’ A pause. She was looking in. ‘I’ll … OK, then.’ Her voice had changed direction. Become more grave. ‘I’ll drive you to the Garda station, OK? It’s not close, but – someone will be on night duty, I think.’

‘No police.’ Matty had stabbed him. He’d bled so much.

‘You’ve been hurt.’

‘Please. No police.’ Turning round, wild. ‘No police.’

‘I’ll – all right. I’ll get you back to mine. I’m no doctor, but – maybe I can see to you a little. We’ll call the guards from there. Will you do that? I’m not sure you can drive.’