‘Problem is, if it’s hit the brachial artery and I pull it out then you will bleed.’

His radio bursts on, a priority-one request for another incident not far from here. I know priority one is only used for injuries deemed potentially fatal if not treated swiftly.

‘That sounds more urgent. Just pull it. I’ll be fine.’

He frowns, but allows his eyes and fingers to rove, assessing damage, checking angles of entry and possible exit.

‘Squeamish?’ he asks.

‘No.’

He reaches into his bag and pulls out a miniature torch, then pinches a bit of flesh, opening up the side of the wound to see how deep the glass goes. I glance down into all that glistening pinky moistness. Well, maybe I am a little squeamish after all.

‘I dunno …’ he says, clicking the torch off and stowing it away.

He looks at me and checks the shard again, frowning to himself whilst probing round it gently. His hair’s close cropped with a widow’s peak pointing to an oddly flat nose. He’s also drenched in a strong aftershave which is giving me a headache. Or maybe that’s from the fall.

‘Honestly I’d be happier taking you in. I don’t want a bleeder.’

‘Just do it,’ I tell him.

The paramedic weighs it all up for a moment then nods. ‘You just can’t help some people,’ he says with a shrug.

He starts assembling what he needs and I take a moment to look around. The place was full when I’d been helped in by the barman, but most of the people have cleared out, not wanting their evening to be disrupted with answering tedious questions posed to them by the police. Major buzzkill when all you’d wanted to do was leave the stresses and strains of the day behind you and party into the night as if morning’s never coming round again.

The only people left now are the woman, the barman and the manager who’d come down from the office upstairs, wringing his hands and fussing like an old woman with unexpected guests. Further afield severed heads, crooked-winged bats with glowing eyes and alien autopsy jars hang from the ceiling. Filaments glow dimly in oversized bulbous glass retro bulbs imitating the Edison originals. I find myself staring at one.

‘Hey, second thoughts?’