He just sat and nodded, watched the traffic go by and sipped at his coffee, as if it were perfectly normal for him to be passing the time with a feverishly chatting stranger in a green Lurex miniskirt.
“So, how’s the hip?” he asked, when finally I ground to a halt.
“Not bad. I’d quite like to stop limping, though.”
“You’ll get there, if you keep up the physio.” For a moment, I could hear that voice from the back of the ambulance. Calm, unfazed, reassuring. “The other injuries?”
I peered down at myself, as if I could see through what I was wearing. “Well, other than the fact that I look like someone’s drawn all over bits of me with a particularly vivid red pen, not bad.”
Sam nodded. “You were lucky. That was quite a fall.”
And there it was again. The sick lurch in my stomach. The air
