‘It’s okay,’ Bunny said because, despite the dull throbbing of her temples, that was really the least of her worries. ‘Has anybody phoned for me?’ she asked.

‘Phoned for you? Not that I know of, but I’ve only just started my shift. I can find out for you once I’ve finished here.’ She pumped up the cuff until Bunny’s arm was squeezed tight, then examined the reading. ‘That’s looking better,’ she said, giving Bunny a quizzical once-over. ‘And your colour’s coming back too, that’s another good sign.’ She jotted a few things down on her file and smiled. ‘You’ll be out of here in no time, don’t you fret.’

Bunny tried to smile back, but didn’t have the heart to say that actually getting out of here, and having to figure out what the hell she was going to do with herself, was exactly what she was fretting about. ‘Thanks,’ she mumbled.

‘I’ll leave you to it for—Oh!’ The nurse stepped back as another person came through the curtain. ‘Excuse me,’ she said, edging around him and out again.

‘Dave!’ cried Bunny, weak with relief at the sight of him walking towards the bed, still with one cycle clip around his trouser leg, his hair tufting up slightly, as it did every night when he got in and removed his bike helmet. She felt a wash of trepidation to see him, tempered with relief and maybe even hope. ‘You came back.’

‘Of course I came back,’ he said, sounding bemused. ‘You can’t get rid of me that easily.’ He sat down beside her and took her hands. ‘How are you today? You don’t look as peaky as you did last night.’

Bunny blinked at him, confused. He had actually read the stuff about her, hadn’t he? Because he was acting as if nothing had happened. ‘I’m okay,’ she replied cautiously. Was this some kind of trick? ‘So . . . do you know?’ she blurted out, unable to help herself. ‘What I did, I mean. Did you look me up, like I said to?’

He nodded, his face impassive for a moment. Then he turned to her, his eyes sad. ‘I wish you’d told me before, about all of that. And about your name, and everything. I’ve been telling everyone your name’s Bernadette. I felt a right idiot when the police rang yesterday, saying you were called Rachel. Why didn’t you set me straight?’