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“You’ll never walk again and it’s something you’re going to have to get used to. ”’ He rocked in his chair. ‘Since I’ve been here all I’ve been told are the things I can’t do. Can’t use my hands properly.’
    I hid my own.
    ‘Can’t dress myself, won’t be able to sweat or shiver because I’ve lost feeling in my sensory nerves too, so I’m at risk of hypothermia. Can’t do or feel a thing. Can’t even pick my fucking nose.’
    He didn’t apologise this time.
    ‘The scariest thing though,’ Guy continued, making up time for his silence, ‘is that when I leave here I’m moving in with my parents. I loved my pad in London. I worked every hour of the day to buy it. It looked over the Thames. Thirty-five and living at home,’ he continued, staring at both of us. ‘They’re hardly young either, you’ve seen them.’ Guy’s father is tall and slim with thinning grey hair and I’d watch him with his son, head hung low and unable to say a word. He looked like a wounded animal. Guy’s mother did all the talking.
    ‘I left home when I was eighteen to make my millions in the City. Before this I was a stockbroker. At weekends I’d play sport. What am I going to do now? Crochet? Hang on, can’t even do that.’
    The more Guy talked, the less scared I became of him. While I loved Dom for his optimism, I related to Guy’s cynicism. It also didn’t matter that both were older than me.
    My mobile rings, telling me I have a new message. ‘Can’t wait to see u Princess. Restaurant better serve baked beans. Guy.’
    I smile, thinking about one time when the supper trolley had rattled round the ward.
    ‘Looking forward to your baked beans?’ I’d asked him. We were all in our pyjamas, as if at a sleepover party.
    ‘Don’t you, like, trump all the time?’ Dom asked.
    ‘I was wondering what the smell was,’ I said.
    Guy looked at me. ‘Don’t even think about coming between me and my orange friends, Princess.’
    ‘This lady goes to a smart dinner party in London,’ started Dom, ‘and there’s an American guest. Quite early on in the party the hostess unfortunately breaks wind.’
    Guy roared with laughter.
    ‘So the gentleman to her left says, “I’m so dreadfully sorry.” The dinner continues but a couple of minutes later the hostess breaks wind again. So the gentleman to her right apologises. The American guest watches these incidents with astonishment. And then a couple of minutes later the hostess does yet another trump. The American, now gobsmacked, leans forward and says, “Hey, madam, have that one on me!”’
    The ticket conductor enters our carriage, bringing me back to the present. He punches my ticket. As I think about Guy and Dom again, I find I’m grinning all the way to Paddington, realising how much I’m looking forward to seeing them, almost more than Sarah.
    *
    Everyone gathers their cases, laptops, newspapers and magazines. I look out of the window, down the entire stretch of platform. I can’t see anyone yet. Don’t panic, Cass. The station promised that there’d be someone to help at this end. I watch people filing out and marching across to the exit barriers.
    Finally the carriage is quiet. The automatic doors open and I position myself near to the step. Thankfully I can see a solid metal ramp to the right of me, near to the driver’s door, and to my relief a couple of men in official uniform walk on to the platform. ‘Hello!’ I call out.
    ‘All right?’ one of them replies, drinking a cup of tea.
    ‘Can you help me, please? I need that ramp.’ I point to it. It’s on wheels.
    Passengers begin to board the train.
    The uniformed men continue talking about last night’s football results.
    ‘Do you think you could get that ramp?’ I ask, not wanting to shout and make a spectacle of myself. ‘Or lift me down?’
    ‘You’re young? Can’t you walk at all?’ one of them asks.
    I shake my head.
    ‘Sorry, love, don’t think we’re insured to