The woman unrolled a coil of fine gauze and snipped at it with nail scissors. She put it to Matty’s cheekbone, and secured it with plasters. Another plaster on the eyebrow.

‘I don’t think you’ll need stitches.’ Her eyes were light blue. ‘I’m Brigid, by the way.’

‘Matty.’ Spoken to the floor, instinctively, the comfort of her touch letting all guard drop. Should have made something up.

‘Would you like me to run the bath?’

Washing it off meant getting rid of everything. Of him. Of evidence. Tears almost came again.

Brigid helped take the T-shirt off, the pain too much to do it alone. She didn’t say anything as she unhooked the first sports bra from the front. Didn’t say anything as she undid the one underneath, from the back.

There were marks all along one side, like a landmass, stopping before the stomach. Reddish brown, almost muddy.

‘That’ll be a sight,’ Brigid said, very softly. ‘I’ll leave you to it, shall I? Unless you want me to stay?’ She sounded unfussy, not fazed.

Part of Matty wanted to be bathed. Dabbed gently, everywhere else. ‘It’s OK.’

Back in the bedroom, there was a T-shirt laid out, large and peach-coloured. The bed had been remade, the pillowcases warm.

While the water had run down the plughole, Matty had stood, not fully upright, in front of the bathroom mirror. Around the plasters, the left eye was still half-sealed, the skin around it puffed up. A dark red blotch spreading from the cheekbone dressing. Split lip. The face of boxing heroes from years ago.

The door opened. Brigid handed over a towel wrapped around something. ‘Sweetcorn this time.’ She looked at the packet of aspirin on the bedside table. ‘I’ve got nothing stronger in the house. I should think you can take more than two at a time.’

Matty moved the sweetcorn down, under the duvet.

‘I did a bit of reading,’ Brigid said. ‘Did you hear a crack? Or feel one?’

‘Don’t know. Don’t think so.’

She nodded. ‘They’ll take a while to heal, even if they’re just bruised. But it’s true that a hospital can’t do anything. I think maybe we’d know by now if you were truly damaged in there.’ She came right over, sat Matty up and began moving the pillows more vertically. ‘You need to sleep more upright for a few days. Try and keep your wrist up high. You’ve to keep it all regularly iced.’

A few days. Matty thought of Shifty, in the garage. Of Dale driving away. Of him going to the police. Would he go to the police? Was he alive?