‘She won’t. She just won’t … And if she does, I know where we can fix it, promise.’ I wince as her fingers pinch into my shoulders. I want to believe her so badly that I feel dizzy.

‘I’ve got blankets and all,’ she says, jerking her head in the direction of the car. ‘I’ll take you home, stay with you both tonight. Don’t worry, OK? I’ll sort it.’

‘Stay? With us? You’ll stay with us?’

She looks down for a moment.

‘Yeah,’ she says. ‘Of course I will. I need you both too, don’t I?’

148

Marie ~ London ~ 2006

Voices, a low hum, scraping at my conscious edge.

‘…did she hit her head?’

‘…shit, she must’ve … that’s blood isn’t it?’

‘…Marie? Marie … Marie?’

Fingers paddle at my face, a hand snakes behind my head, another grips my shoulder.

‘…roll her on to her side … not her back…’

‘…recovery position isn’t it?’

‘…leg needs to go up, wait…’

I open my eyes, try to blink, except one eye is mushed into the carpet.

‘…splash some water on her face, here…’

I roll my head into the hand behind it, Dominic and Jemima’s faces sludgy above me.

‘…Marie? Steady on now girl…’

I blink and blink and blink. Their heads are cocked in a heart shape above my face.

‘…no, no don’t sit up, just hang on there, girl…’

I blink again. What am I doing on the floor?

‘…put this under her head…’

The hand behind my head guides my face downwards as something is placed underneath.

‘…it’s coffee, look … she’s not bleeding, is she?’

The heart shape swims as fingers rake through my hair.

‘…Marie? Wait, hang on, let me help you…’

I sit up, head thumping as I balance it on top of my neck. Dominic is squatting on one side, Jemima on the other. There’s a 149chair wedged behind me against the desk. We’re in an edit suite. Yes. Of course we are.

‘Are you alright, girl?’ Jemima frowns at me, hand gripping my shoulder.

Why are we in the edit suite? Something new, agonising, snags in my mind. I try to speak but only a croak comes out.

‘You fainted,’ she says. ‘Hit your head on the way down…’

I flinch as Dominic rakes his fingers through my hair again.

‘It’s coffee,’ he says again, rubbing his fingertips together. ‘Here, look.’ He shoves his fingers under Jemima’s nose. They both turn and squint at me.

‘Let’s get her into a chair,’ Dominic says. ‘OK?’ He smiles down at me. ‘I’m going to lift you, OK? Just rest on my arm … Come on…’

I summon every fibre of my body and try to move unaided but all that happens is goosepimples jump out on my skin. They fold me into the chair like a rag doll.