‘A couple of years ago,’ I said into a short silence, my voice shaking; it was late, and I was tired, but I’d been waiting and it was time, ‘I was in an accident.’

I told it again. All of it this time. The accident. The aftermath.

‘After that, I couldn’t get in a car. Or on a bus or a train.’ I didn’t look at Carlos or Donna, but I heard them shift in their seats. ‘I didn’t go anywhere, for two years. I told my parents that I had to work on Christmas Day, so I wouldn’t have to go home.’

I felt a flush of shame as I remembered. Mum had been so hurt—Dad too, probably, but he would never have admitted it. I’d pushed them away, like I’d pushed away Lina, so I wouldn’t have to deal with all the guilt I felt every time I was near them.

‘I walk everywhere,’ I said. Louise’s eyebrows shot up, and I tried to ignore them. ‘And sometimes it’s terrifying. Sometimes it’s so quiet and I’m so sure that someone is going to just—’ I shook my head. ‘But it’s less terrifying than everything else. I thought I was being brave and in control but I was just being scared. I just didn’t want to deal with it.’

Like all of them, I thought, looking around. Like Geoff, who’d moved again, this time because of a loose floorboard in his dining room. Or Glenn, whose eyes were the same colour as the ocean, but who might never see it again. Louise, who’d given up macramé and baking and capoeira and knitting and pottery.

Like Carlos, who’d put his trip to Fiji on indefinite hold after reading a brochure for travel insurance. Have you ever read one of those policies? he’d asked earlier. They’re a shopping list of tragedies, and all the big ones are excluded. And I’d nearly laughed, and then nearly cried, because I’d had the same conversation with Lina just a few days before.

Frannie.

I could barely look at Frannie.

‘I’m still scared,’ I went on. ‘But it’s different now. I think maybe I’m different now.’

Mum had called the day before and I’d told her I was going back to Sawyer’s. She’d seemed surprised, happy. That’s good, she said. You’ll be back to your old self in no time. And I hadn’t known how to respond.

‘Thanks, Cait,’ Geoff said, when I stopped. I looked at him. Our unofficial leader, who cared so much about all of this. ‘It’s good you’re finally talking about it.’