The headlights light them up and the car stops just a few metres away. Not a wandering cow at all, then. A bearded guy and a girl, both decked out in soggy denim and wearing rucksacks. The male sits in the road and the girl lies across his lap, her head in his hands. There’s blood on her face and on his hands and leaking from somewhere under his bushy beard. Both turn their eyes towards the car. Not dead at all, then.

‘Thank God, yes,’ Marc wheezes.

The door opens and the sound of the pelting rain is back. Marc appears in the headlights, blocking one. He moves towards the two injured people, but the male swipes a hand.

‘Get the hell away. Call an ambulance.’

He clearly knows this isn’t a driver stopping to help.

‘I’m sorry. We didn’t see you.’

The male is jabbing a finger.

‘I know you, I bloody know you. You’re that politician. You think you’re above the law. Get an ambulance. You’re going down for this, you damn lunatic. Look at her. She’s hurt. You’re going down for this. Burn in Hell. Now get an ambulance.’

As he’s screaming, Marc backs away. The picture wobbles as he gets in the car, and the sound of the rain and the shouting ceases as the door shuts.

The injured couple slip to one side as the car pulls forward and curves past them. It drives on, and then it slows. Throughout, Marc is moaning, cursing. Things like can’t blame me and just an accident and can’t do this to me. The car stops. There’s an animal roar from the politician.

The car moves on, but it turns in the road. Heading back. Left side, almost touching the edge so that he can drive past the causalities.

‘Can’t do this to me,’ Marc moans. The right-hand headlight illuminates them.

‘Just a stupid accident.’

Closer now. The male tries to turn his head to see.

‘Ruin me, you bastards,’ Marc screams. Even over the engine, there’s the clear sound of sobbing.

Just metres away now and the couple are about to whizz by on the right, out of the spotlight washing over them, out of frame, out of sight.

‘You’re not going to do this to me, to this country,’ Marc screams.

Both headlights suddenly spear the injured hikers as the Punto veers slightly to the right. The hikers jump immediately into centre frame. And over the sobbing there’s a roar from the engine as he stamps the accelerator.

Epilogue

At about the time Anna, many miles away, was staring through iron bars and watching Nick walk away from her, Josie leaned forward to kiss a gravestone as Middleton got to his feet and brushed off his knees.

‘Times flies,’ Josie said.