‘Alex, you have a moderate concussion.’ He cocks his head slightly. ‘You are a good way away from fine. And I am afraid that means you will need to stay in overnight, maybe even for a couple of nights.’

‘But…’ I look up at him helplessly.

‘We need to monitor you. There is no spinal injury, but you do have some swelling on your brain and it is our responsibility to make sure you are totally fit to leave. The fact that you have just been sick tells me you most certainly are not.’

‘Right.’

I feel Dom’s hand clasp mine reassuringly.

‘We are going to admit you to the neurology ward,’ says Dr Amani. ‘The consultant there will see you tomorrow morning. She is going to review your scan results, first thing.’

‘And then I might get out tomorrow?’

‘Why don’t we take it one step at a time?’ He picks up the chart at the end of my trolley and scribbles something down. ‘We need to check on some possible anomalies in your scan. The additional MRI scan we did.’

‘Anomalies?’ Dom looks alarmed. ‘What do you mean by anomalies?’

‘There is nothing to be overly concerned about at this stage.’ Dr Amani expertly placates him. ‘It is due process to have an expert review the results. We just need to rule things out.’

‘What do you need to rule out?’ I’m mildly irritated by this unexpected diversion.

‘As I said, one step at a time.’ Dr Amani smiles kindly at me. ‘Now try to rest and let that head of yours recover.’

He disappears from the cubicle with the swiftness of a magician, leaving Dom and me looking at each other blankly.

Chapter 4

I wake early the next morning from a fractured sleep: a combination of endless disturbance through the night from the desperately unwell patients in my shared room, the lack of familiarity of my surroundings, and the unrelenting thudding pain in my head, despite being dosed up with strong painkillers and anti-inflammatory drugs. The ward smells the same as the A&E department – cleaning products mixed with medical disinfectant and cotton wool. Although it doesn’t feel like the best environment for rest and recovery – which seems ironic given that’s part of the reason I’m here – I do now at least have a proper bed with crisp white linen and a more robust curtain to shut out the rest of the ward (though not the noise). There’s also a wooden locker built into my bedside unit, housing my personal possessions. Thankfully this means I now have my precious iPad to distract myself.

Bleary-eyed, I thank the man who delivers my breakfast from his trolley, pulling across my tray table so that I can eat from my propped-up position. Having been admitted too late the previous evening to choose my own breakfast, I’ve ended up with the menu selection made by one of the ward’s previous tenants. Someone lucky enough to have escaped this pseudo prison – although I sincerely hope it wasn’t via the morgue.