And then Luke was on his knees beside Mickey, calling his name, as bright scarlet blood dripped from his jaw. But Mickey didn’t answer.

Irene stood quite still. She stared at Luke’s blood, dripping onto Mickey’s shirt, and at Mickey’s face, suddenly chalky under his tan. A blue bruise was spreading across his temple.

‘Here,’ said Lorrie, pushing her aside. ‘Let me look.’

She was naked except for a pair of stripy knickers, and she leant over Mickey with her pendulous breasts just a few inches from his closed eyes. As she laid her hand on his forehead, he stirred and muttered something thickly. His eyes flickered open and shut.

‘Give me a cushion or something,’ she said to Neil, hovering behind them. ‘And a tee-shirt for me while you’re at it. What happened?’

‘He fell over,’ said Irene. Neil passed over a grubby towel, which Lorrie tucked tenderly under Mickey’s head, lifting a thread of hair off his sticky skin. ‘He’d drunk too much and got quarrelsome, and then he – well, he lashed out at Luke and kind of fell over. I don’t know really.’

‘Mummy? Mummy?’

‘Go back to bed, Kath. Neil, take her back to bed.’

‘Is he dead?’ she asked in an interested voice.

‘Don’t be daft.’

‘He looks dead.’

‘He’s coming round now,’ Lorrie said softly to Luke.

‘Mickey?’ said Luke. ‘Mick?’

‘Sappen.’

‘What’s that, mate?’

He half struggled up. ‘What’s happened?’

‘You hit your head.’

‘Aches.’

‘You will.’

‘I feel strange,’ he said. ‘Not right. Strange. Ugh.’

‘Don’t move for a bit,’ said Lorrie.

But Mickey writhed into a sitting position. His face was a dull, scummy grey; there were beads of sweat on his forehead.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Sorry sorry sorry sorry …’

Irene squatted beside Mickey while Lorrie pressed the pads of her fingers against his temple.

‘How do you feel now?’

‘Sick. You must be a lovely nurse. Lovely. Like being a baby again.’

‘Let’s get you on the sofa.’

‘Can’t – need to … Sorry.’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘No – I mean for being such a wanker.’ Tears started streaking the grime on his cheeks. Irene wiped them away with the back of her hand.

‘Here, take our hands and pull yourself up,’ said Lorrie. ‘That’s the way. Lie down over here. Irene, get a glass of water for him, will you? Can you remember falling?’

‘Falling – no. Remember grabbing Irene. Remember that. Sorry.’

‘You’ve got a bit of concussion, that’s all. Nothing to worry about. Best keep an eye on it for a bit – you shouldn’t go back to sleep for a few hours, OK?’

‘Haven’t slept yet.’

‘You can sleep all you want tomorrow. Though of course it’s been tomorrow for ages, hasn’t it?’

Luke glanced at his watch. ‘Nearly five. It’s pretty much light outside. I’m going to put some other clothes on.’