22 Lisa was fed up of arguing with her friend; the argument was bad enough, but it was made all the worse by the need for them to keep their voices low to avoid being overheard by her parents. “I told you, I’m not going to the police.” “We have to,” Megan told her. “You saw the news, the old guy’s still in hospital, still in a coma, and we saw who did it. We have to tell the police.” “We’ve been over this,” Lisa said in a hoarse whisper, her ears pricked as she listened for the sound of footsteps on the stairs. “We didn’t see who knocked the old guy down, so there’s nothing for us to tell the police.” Megan couldn’t believe the way her friend was acting. “They nearly ran us down, you know that, and the old guy was knocked down just a couple of streets away; do you really think it coul

