‘Please, Mr Markham. I must take them off.’ Her voice was young and husky.

‘No! No, you mustn’t. Cut the trouser leg off or something.’

George and the nurse stared at one another. Then both looked towards the curtain as it was pulled back. The young nurse breathed a sigh of relief. It was the Charge Nurse, Joey Denellan.

‘What’s the matter, Nurse?’ His voice held the false jocularity peculiar to male nurses.

‘Mr Markham won’t let me remove his trousers.’

The man smiled at George. ‘Bit of a shy one, are you? Well, never mind. I’ll do it for you.’

The nurse left and before George could protest the young man was pulling off his jeans. George tried to grab the waistband but the boy was too strong. They were off.

George swallowed deeply and turned his head away from the boy’s face.

Joey Denellan stared at the wounded leg with an expert eye. Deep, but it had not affected any main arteries. His eyes flicked over the man before him and stopped dead. No wonder the old boy was so against Jenny pulling his trousers off. The stains were very recent and still sticky. What had he been up to that could have got him such a large gash in his leg? He shrugged. Theirs was not to reason why.

‘What kind of knife was it?’ Joey was careful to keep his voice light.

‘Oh, a Swiss army knife.’ George’s voice was small and the younger man felt sorry for him.

‘Well, it will need a few stitches in, but don’t worry. You didn’t sever anything important. Would you like me to see if I can find you some clean pants?’

George heard the ‘man to man’ inflection in the other’s voice. He nodded. ‘Please. I . . .’

‘Righty ho then. I’ll be back in a minute. The doctor will be here soon, OK?’

‘Thank you. Thank you very much. Would you . . . keep my wife away, please?’

George’s eyes were pleading and Joey nodded slowly.

‘OK. Don’t worry.’ He walked from the cubicle and went out to the reception area.

‘Mrs Markham?’ He looked around the assembled people and was not surprised to see the fat woman with the dyed red hair and bright green track suit stand up and walk towards him. He had somehow known that this would be the poor bloke’s wife.

‘Is he all right? My God, only George could cut himself while sitting in a bloody shed. Honestly, Doctor . . .’

‘Nurse. I’m a nurse.’

As Elaine went to speak again he interrupted her.

‘We’re going to stitch your husband after the doctor has seen him. If you would like to get yourself a coffee or something, there’s a machine at the end of that corridor.’ He pointed to the swing doors to the right.