No one was there.

But he’d seen a face.

The woman.

Clambering to his feet, carefully, his head hurting, he pressed the red button for hot water, waiting until the temperature was OK again. As soon as it was, he rinsed the shampoo and soap and quickly switched the shower off, stepped out and grabbed a towel, shaking.

Had he imagined it?

Again?

Five minutes later, he was dressed and downstairs. The integral door to the garage was open – Emily was in there sorting out her catering equipment. Feeling a little shaky, he walked across the kitchen, opened the fridge door and removed a block of Cheddar to make himself a sandwich.

Then he turned back to the fridge and looked around inside it for a jar of Branston pickle. Behind him, he heard Emily’s alarmed voice.

‘Darling, what’s happened to you?’

He turned. ‘What do you mean? I’m fine, just hungry, making a quick sandwich.’

She was staring, alarmed. ‘You’re bleeding. The back of your head’s covered in blood. It’s dripping on the floor.’

‘What?’ He spun round and saw bright red droplets of blood on the tiles.

She ran over to him. ‘Turn your head,’ she commanded.

He obeyed.

Pressing her hands against the wound and gently probing with her fingers, she said, ‘You’ve gashed it open. God – really deeply. My poor darling, what happened?’

Hesitantly, he said, ‘I slipped in the shower. Fell over.’

She grabbed a tea towel, ran it under the cold tap and pressed it against the back of his head. It stung.

‘You need to go to hospital to get it stitched!’

‘No way.’

‘You do!’

‘Em, if we go to hospital I’ll be there for ten hours waiting to be seen. No way!’

‘You’ve cut it right open.’

‘I am not going to hospital. I’m not sitting in A & E with twenty people sneezing and coughing germs all around me. We’ve both managed to avoid the flu that’s everywhere this winter, touch wood. A & E would be a bloody incubator for it.’

‘We’ll keep a close an eye on it. I’ll get the first-aid kit. Keep holding the towel, OK?’

He put an arm behind his head and held the wet cloth as she dashed out of the room, returning with the kit.

‘This may sting,’ she said.

‘It’s already stinging.’

‘I’m not surprised!’

‘Owwwwww!’ he yelled as she squeezed some antiseptic cream onto the wound.

‘I’ll try a pad – let’s see if that works. Otherwise I’m taking you to A & E whether you like it or not.’

‘I have to get the sketch finished tonight, hell or high water.’

‘And die from blood poisoning trying?’

‘I was in the shower – the wound’s clean.’

‘How did you fall over?’ she asked. ‘Old men fall over in showers, not you.’

Reluctantly, she dressed the back of his head. He thanked her and returned to the sandwich he was making.

‘You need a hot meal, not a sandwich,’ she said.