I had a future, a plan. Climb the ladder. Wear higher heels and fancier dresses and redder lipstick. Date a banker, a doctor, a lawyer. Get invited to industry parties with C-list celebrities we pretended weren’t being paid to be there. Save some money. Put down a deposit on a flat. Eventually, I’d have to find my own rugby-playing accountant with a good head on his shoulders, someone normal, someone boring but nice, who ticked all the boxes, and we’d settle down, sell the flat and buy a fixer-upper a few suburbs further out. Keep climbing the ladder, keep buying prettier outfits and higher heels, fix up the fixer-upper, buy another one. Get a gym membership, a dog, a cherry-red hatchback. I’d always known the way it should go. Safe. Comfortable. Careful. No fairytales, but no pain either, just ticking the boxes and climbing the ladder.

And then I had another plan. Lina and I had another plan. Years and years of planning and it had all disappeared in a second, like the back seat of a car, T-boned at speed. Disintegrated.

I swallowed, trying to get rid of the awful taste in my mouth, the sourness in my throat.

Mum made a face. Exasperated. She was always so exasperated. ‘Well, could you go back?’

I picked up a piece of bacon and put it in my mouth, licked the salt and fat off my fingers. It was cold. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Why not? They liked you there, didn’t they?’

‘I guess.’

They did. They were patient, after the accident. They let me have one week off, then two. Sent flowers. They called a few times during the third week, asking where I was. They didn’t fire me until halfway through the fourth, and even then they sounded remorseful about it, my boss calling me personally, leaving a message telling me if I could get a medical certificate I could stay, but I didn’t want to stay. I couldn’t. I was going to die. It was only a matter of time and it seemed like fraud to keep letting them think otherwise.

It seemed like fraud doing anything.

‘Are you really just going to be a waitress for the rest of your life?’ She picked up her coffee and took a sip, watching me over the rim of the cup.

Probably, I thought, but at least the rest of my life wasn’t going to be very long.

‘No,’ I lied. ‘I’m just … taking a break.’

‘It’s been over a year.’

I shrugged, not sure how to answer.

She stared at me for a while longer then went back to her cereal.

‘You right?’ Jack asked, finally looking up from his phone.

‘Yeah. Tired.’ I smiled, wondering if I could get away with ordering another coffee.

‘Were you out last night?’

‘Just working.’