‘Oh f**k, Sammy, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did that. My God! Are you all right?’ She leant over me, all placatory hands and dishevelled hair, looking gorgeous. I groaned, pulling myself up onto the couch, the pain in my temple reverberating through me, like the sound of a door slamming shut for good.
* * *
‘I’m so sorry,’ she was saying. ‘It was just that one minute we were talking and the next there’s this flash like from a camera and then you’re leaning over me and … and … I freaked.’ She reached out and patted me on the arm, then left her hand resting there, looking at me with an unreadable expression.
‘Sorry,’ she said again, and it was a pretty sorry situation all right.
On the radio, the jangling guitars of the Sunnyboys heralded ‘I’m Alone with You’. Frowning, I looked over
