‘I’m going to get onto the seat,’ she said.

‘What did you say?’

Her voice was scratchy and unclear. ‘I’m going to get onto the seat.’

‘Go ahead.’

Inch by inch, testing him and herself, she moved, forcing herself not to make any noise when her right arm shifted. She tried to hold it still with her other hand. He put the radio on as she eased herself upright. She shifted her position, and he changed stations, jumping through disjointed songs.

‘I haven’t set the system up yet,’ he said. ‘New car.’

She was sitting now, facing front. It felt better to be sitting. She wasn’t sure how much fear she felt. Her mind was taking care of her. First things first, she thought again, repeating it. First things first.

‘All good?’ he said.

‘Thirsty.’

He handed her a small bottle of Vittel, swimming-pool blue. The red top was still sealed, so he couldn’t have drugged it. Like he must have drugged Alex. She blocked out the thought. She took the bottle. Her lips hurt against the plastic rim. She drank it all.

‘Just throw it in the back when you’re done,’ he said. ‘I’m not one of those assholes obsessed with keeping a clean car. I mean, whatever, right? I won’t smoke in the car, though. I’d smoke in my old car, but not in this car.’

She wondered if it was more dangerous to talk to him or not to talk to him, whether forming a relationship was good or bad. Her instinct said it made no difference. He was impervious. But maybe she should keep him comfortable in his version of things.

‘What was your old car?’ she asked.

‘Peugeot.’

‘We had a Peugeot.’

‘Oh yeah?’ he said. ‘Mine was shit.’

‘So was ours.’

As clearly as the day they’d bought it she remembered standing on the pavement, in Tottenham, with Dan, as the guy fetched the keys from his flat, and how Dan had been so stubborn. She’d given in to him as if he knew something about cars. It’s kind of cool, he’d said. I like it.

‘Where’s Dan?’ she said. ‘Tell me.’

There was no answer. She realised her eyes were closed. She made herself open them. Russ was smiling, but not at her. She wasn’t sure now if she’d asked out loud, or how long ago. She shut her eyes again to keep from crying. The one he’d punched felt like a fist grinding into the socket. He was talking again. His voice came in and out like a broken signal.

‘You like this car?’ he was saying. ‘This is the shit. Got it a couple of weeks ago. In Switzerland.’

He looked across and smiled, knowingly.

‘I paid cash,’ he said. ‘In Switzerland?’