“That’s the thing about accidents, though, isn’t it?” said Abi. “It’s all bits of chance and fate, muddled up together. I’m sure she won’t be long; there are so many ambulances out there, and they’ve cleared a way right through the traffic, apparently.”

A man with his arm in a makeshift sling was sitting staring into space, grey faced, opposite Abi; he started chatting to her, clearly glad of the distraction.

“Car hit one of the fridges. Front’s pretty well stove in. The wife’s coming to get me, but we live in Manchester, so bit of a way.” He shifted, winced. “Glad to get this set-”

A nurse appeared, called out, “Brian Timpson.”

He stood up. “Well, nice talking to you. See you later.”

Almost immediately his place was taken by a hard-faced young man carrying a notebook; he’d been talking to several people, she’d noticed, some had been more receptive than others. “Hi,” he said, “Bob Mason, Daily Sketch. Wonder if you’d mind if I chatted to you for a bit. You were out there in the crash, I take it?”

Rage shot through Abi.

“I was,” she said coldly, “and I’d mind very much if you chatted to me, actually. Just piss off, will you?”

“OK, OK,” he said, “sorry to have troubled you.”

Every so often she wondered vaguely what Jonathan was doing, what complex lies he might be telling Laura; that was as far as her curiosity-or indeed her emotions-extended towards him. He seemed to belong in an entirely different point in her life; the accident had, in some strange way, restructured everything.

She was just considering moving into a corner seat, where she might be able to doze, at least, only it would mean waking Shaun, when a young man, looking deeply distressed, walked dazedly in, slumped down in the chair next to her, and put his head in his hands. He was naked from the waist up and his trousers were held up with red braces. Poor bloke had obviously had a very tough time. She could scarcely believe it when the reporter sat down on his other side and said, “Hi. Bob Mason, Daily Sketch. Mind if I talk to you? I’m just-”

The man lifted his head out of his hands, stared at him for moment; then he said, “Yes, I bloody well do.”

“Parasites,” she said, as Mason walked away. “They shouldn’t be allowed in.”

He said nothing, stood up still looking dazed, and walked over to the watercooler, filled a cup of water for himself.

As he stood drinking it, a nurse appeared in the doorway. “Mr. Fraser? Yes, the doctor will talk to you now.”

Mr. Fraser half ran out of the room.

“Such a sad story,” said a middle-aged woman sitting opposite her. “He was here much earlier; he was on his way to be best man at a wedding. The bridegroom’s been very badly hurt.”

“God,” said Abi, “that’s so terrible.”

She felt freshly shocked; fate was certainly having a field day.

Linda was beginning to feel extremely worried. Something quite serious must have happened to Georgia. She’d been so upbeat, so grateful to Linda for rescheduling her audition. And suddenly… she appeared to have vanished. Linda had tried ringing her twice, but her phone was on voice mail. That was unlike her, too- Georgia never missed an opportunity to chatter. And it was well into the evening. But Georgia didn’t have to be anywhere until the morning; there was plenty of time. Get a life, Linda, for God’s sake.

She tried Georgia ’s phone just once more and then started clearing her desk preparatory to leaving it. Linda could no more have left an uncleared desk than she would have left home in a crumpled skirt or shoes in need of heeling.

But Georgia was still not picking up.

Abi was half-asleep, her head lolling onto Shaun’s, when she was jerked awake by a voice saying, “Shaun! Shaun, where are you?” And he sat up, rubbing his eyes, and then shot off towards the direction of a pallid, overweight young woman, yelling, “Mum, mum,” and pushed himself into her slightly reluctant arms.

She was accompanied by two other small children and an equally overweight older woman whom Abi assumed was her mother; they all came over to Abi, who started to tell Shaun’s mother how brave he’d been and how proud of him she should be.

She stared at her rather blankly and then said, “You’re all right, are you?” to Shaun, interrupting the little speech.

“I think he’s OK,” Abi said rather tentatively. “He had an asthma attack, as I expect you know, but he’s been checked over by the doctor here and given some Ventolin, and all he needs now is you, I should think.”

“Yeah, well, thanks. Who can I ask about him?” The girl sounded hostile.

“Well, I’m not sure,” Abi said. “They’re pretty busy, as you can see. I suppose the women over there on the desk would be best. But a doctor did return him to me saying he was fine-”

“Yeah, well, I want to hear it from them,” she said. “What’s he doing with you, anyway?”

“Well, I was involved in the crash,” Abi said. “I was with a friend and we weren’t hurt, and he got the boys out of the minibus and left me in charge of them while he went to see if there was anything else he could do. And then when the ambulance came for… for your little boy, he wanted me to go with him. So I did. We’d become friends by then, hadn’t we, Shaun?”

Shaun nodded, tentatively putting out his hand again, into hers.

“Oh, yeah. Well-thanks anyway.” His mother spoke begrudgingly looking Abi up and down, clearly taking in her tight trousers and her spike-heeled boots. “Give over, Shaun; don’t hang on to me like that-I can’t hardly breathe.”

Abi felt a rush of rage. “He’s had a horrible time, you know. Really horrible. the… the driver of the minibus was… well, he didn’t survive, and I think Shaun needs lots of reassurance, you know?”

“Mum, it was horrible,” Shaun said. “Mr. Douglas, he was killed; he was all covered with blood and-”

“I don’t really want to hear,” said the girl. “Just try not to think about it, Shaun; that’s the best thing. Come on, say good-bye to the lady and let’s go and try to find a doctor, make sure you’re all right.”

“Bye, Abi,” Shaun said. “Thanks for looking after me and the singing; I liked the singing.”

“Singing!” said the girl as they moved off. “What on earth you been singing for? Whose daft idea was that? Come on, and you, Mum, over here…”

Shaun was led away, and Abi wearily walked over to the desk.

“Any chance of a taxi to the nearest station, would you think?” she said.

“You could try,” said one of the women. “Don’t rate your chances.”

She handed Abi a few cards; Abi rummaged in her bag for her phone. It wasn’t there.

“How are you feeling now?” The nurse smiled into Mary’s eyes. “Bit better?”

“Yes. A little. Very tired, that’s the worst thing. So tired…”

“Well, that’s quite usual, considering what you’ve been through. They’ll be taking you to the theatre in a minute.”

“The theatre? I don’t need surgery; I haven’t been injured.”

“Of course not, dear. But they’re going to have a look at that heart of yours; it’s not working too well just at the moment. Dr. Phillips wants to be quite sure.”

“Who’s Dr. Phillips? And what isn’t he sure about?”

“He’s one of the cardiologists. He’ll be along in a minute, and you can ask him yourself.”

“Honestly,” said Mary, “I’m fine. I keep telling you. And I have to get out of here; I’m so worried.”

“Now, why are you worried? Your family have been notified; they’re all fine; they’re on their way-”

“No, not my family. I was meant to be meeting an old friend at the airport, and… oh, dear. He’ll still be waiting. Can we get a message to him somehow, please-”