The doctor attending him introduced herself, then explained that the gash was too deep to use the butterfly stitches, so they’d had to sew it.

‘We used local anaesthetic to do that and he’s had some quite strong painkillers now. It’s going to be pretty painful once the anaesthetic starts wearing off. I’m afraid it’s going to leave a scar and there will be some substantial bruising, but that will obviously fade.’

‘Do you still love me now I’ve lost my looks?’ Jack asked. His eyes, although sleepy and clearly rather drugged up, were mischievous.

I turned to the doctor. ‘Are you sure he doesn’t need any stronger drugs? You know, ones that might knock him right out for a few hours?’

She laughed as she placed the dressing over the stitches and began to secure it to his head. ‘We did tell Jack about how to care for the wound but it’s all here, just in case some of it is a bit fuzzy with the medication.’ The nurse handed me some paperwork.

I stood waiting, trying to keep back all the thoughts threatening to rush into my mind. Suddenly, I felt Jack’s fingers wrap around mine.

‘I’m OK, Lily,’ he said, for a moment seemingly totally lucid.

‘I know.’ I squeezed his fingers gently and fixed on a smile that felt one size too small.

Jack took the next few days off, thankfully, although I had a feeling it was more to satisfy and pacify me than from any real desire to on his part. I encouraged him to rest as much as he could, agreeing that he could take the dog out for a gentle walk, knowing that staying inside all the time would drive him mad.

Logically, I knew that the hospital had given him the all-clear, but my mind kept flashing back to seeing his face smothered with blood and the gaping wound in his head. I wanted him to at least give it a chance to start to heal and get a bit of rest before he was back at work. Sanjid had been by to see how he was doing, and had assured me that he would be keeping a close eye on Jack when he did return and ensuring that he didn’t do anything that seemed like a bad idea. I was relieved that Jack had employed someone so level-headed and thanked the young man for his help and reassurance, before waving him back off in Jack’s pickup, which he was now insured for.

I hadn’t written a word all day. Normally I could switch off from the world around me and lose myself in my stories. It was, after all, once the initial shock was over, how I had coped with Mike’s death. But right now, I couldn’t switch off. I couldn’t stop seeing Jack’s face covered in blood. I’d even woken up last night crying in terror, as an image of him lying bloodied on the floor permeated my dreams, but when Jack asked me about the nightmare, I told him I couldn’t remember. He’d wrapped his arms around me and we’d laid back down together. His breathing soon became deep and even but I’d been unable to sleep any more that night, fearing the return of images I couldn’t bear.