I was roused from my exhausted sleep later that evening by Nicole. I took one look at her face and knew it was good news.

“Oscar’s going to be OK. He’s no longer in intensive care. He’s awake and he’s asking to see you, Maisie.”

I was stunned. “Me? But why?”

“I don’t know,” Nicole admitted. “The hospital gave no more details. So, hurry now, grab your coat. My driver is bringing the car around to the front for us.”

We stopped quickly at Ladurée just before the doors closed and I got Oscar a big box of macarons – a rainbow selection, as I didn’t want to take the time choosing flavours as we were in a rush.

In the hospital they led me to Oscar’s room. He was sitting up in bed looking pale and dishevelled. His arm was in a cast, and he had stitches above his right eyebrow that zigzagged across his forehead.

“You look like Harry Potter,” I blurted out. Oscar gave a laugh and then regretted it, wincing in pain.

“I have cracked ribs,” he explained. “It hurts to laugh.”

“I’ll try not to be funny then,” I said.

Apart from the Harry Potter scar, Oscar had a belly scar too, where they had operated to take out his spleen because it had been ruptured when the van struck. His collarbone and his arm were both broken, and the head injury was still worrying the doctors.

“I have a small brain bleed.” Oscar shrugged. “They are doing scans and they might need to operate again – but on here this time.” He rapped with his knuckles on his skull.

“They’ll cut your head open?” I was horrified.

“It’s not so bad, they say,” Oscar said. “But it will be a while before I can leave, and I am worried about Claude.”

“Is he OK?” I asked.

“He is back at the Célestins, but his injuries are bad. Alexandre says they nearly put him down on the spot but he begged them to at least take him back to the stables and let the vet take a look at him.” Oscar’s eyes filled with tears. “He is a good horse … well, I don’t have to tell you this. You know how amazing and gentle he is, but he has such a dislike of vets. Ever since he was a young colt he’s been very scared of them, and he hates injections, needles, that kind of thing. He’ll be hard to treat because of this, and I worry that they will give up on him. I need someone there with him, someone to reassure him and calm him.”

“Alexandre is there though, isn’t he?”