Sidney shook his head. ‘No. Is that why it hurts to move my hand? I thought it was the cuts.’

‘You might be just nervous about moving it. Try squeezing mine now.’

The doctor put his hand in Sidney’s. Sidney tried squeezing. It felt weak, but better than before.

‘You’re alright there. Might be just the shoulder affecting it. That you can squeeze at all means all feeling should come back. Well. We’ll have to put your shoulder back in. Which will hurt. But it’s not broken, which is good. And the scratches on your chest and arm will need stitches.’ Sidney felt sudden shame at how he’d reacted. He thought his chest had been opened up, his heart beating furiously outside his chest. ‘You might’ve fractured a few ribs as well, but nothing can be done for that besides letting them heal. We can’t cast a ribcage after all, can we?’ He smiled. Sidney wasn’t sure if what he had said was a joke. ‘Besides that, it looks like you’ve got a concussion, judging by your pupils. So you’ll have to stay awake tonight for a bit before you go to sleep.’

‘Why?’

‘You might have a brain injury. It might be bleeding. And the way to tell is to check that you’re alert, and not slurring words, or getting dopey, over six hours. So your wife will have to help you. How have you been, Sarah, since you had Amy?’

‘I’ve been good.’

‘She’s sleeping well?’

‘Yeah, she does.’

‘Still feeding?’

‘Once or twice a night now.’

‘Good, good,’ he said. ‘So you two will need to stay awake for the next six hours. And Sarah, just keep an eye on him, okay? Can you do that?’

‘What if he does get a bit dopey?’ Sarah asked.

‘If he starts acting like he’s drunk, you need to take him to the hospital instantly.’

‘Okay.’ Sarah gave his hand a squeeze. ‘I can do that.’

‘Now,’ the doctor said, standing up. ‘Let’s pop that shoulder back in.’

Later, in their room, his arm in a sling, Sarah was on the bed and he was standing looking at their daughter. He had black, bristly stitches lining his chest. He couldn’t shower and was covered still in dried blood. He felt awful, a touch woozy.

She said, ‘You alright?’

‘You ever think about what it would be like for us to move away from here?’

‘Out of Newbury?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I think about it all the time.’ She had one leg up, crossed over the other. Normally, he knew, she’d be smoking something, but he’d asked her not to.

‘Do you?’

‘I think about moving to Devonshire, you know. Closer to my folks.’

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Except I don’t know what I’d do there.’

‘For work?’

‘I could figure something out, I guess.’

‘Is that something you’d like to do? Move?’

He sighed. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Probably be better for her, growing up away from all this.’