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and if she knew where she was and then being wheeled through the hospital.
    There had been lots of lights flashing into her eyes and people asking her what her name was and even though she’d known it, she hadn’t known how to say it, her mouth and tongue refusing to obey. She had just wanted them to leave her alone so that she could go back to sleep, because it had hurt to be awake. It felt as if a bus had been parked on her chest and moving her limbs in response to the questions had taken a massive effort and one she hadn’t had the energy for.
    ‘Come on.’ Someone was pinching her ear. ‘Tell me your name.’
    ‘Lorna.’
    ‘And do you know where you are, Lorna?’ It was a very good question and one that had been asked a few times, Lorna hazily recalled.
    ‘Lorna, answer the nurse!’ Dad was there, which didn’t exactly cheer her up. Here she was in hospital and her dad still managed to make her feel as if she was misbehaving. Oh, yes, that was where she was…
    ‘Hospital.’ She managed a groggy answer through cracked, swollen lips, peeled her eyes open a fraction as the nurse demanded she do so.
    ‘That’s right. Now, can you give my hands a squeeze? Come on, nice and tight.’ The nurse waschatting away. ‘You had an accident, Lorna. Do you remember anything.’ She didn’t remember anything so instead of answering she tried to go back to sleep—she was just sick of the intrusion. Over and over they asked the same thing. ‘You had a car crash and now you’re in North London Regional Hospital.’
    ‘No.’ She shook her head because that was impossible. Little flashes of memory darted in, as if she was trying to recall a dream. She’d had interviews in London, that much made sense, but she definitely hadn’t applied for a job at North London Regional Hospital. Even though they’d advertised positions, she had deliberately avoided the hospital because that was where James was working.
    She knew because she had checked.
    ‘No,’ Lorna said, too exhausted to argue, choosing instead to go back to sleep.
    She’d lay in a sort of suspended existence for the next couple of days, not examining why she was here or what was wrong, coming back to the world in stages, accepting now rather than arguing, existing rather than living.
    Her mother had gone to the shops and bought her several of the most disgusting pairs of nylon pyjamas, a nylon dressing gown and a pair of old men’s slippers, which hopefully had rubber soles because the static energy she gave off when the nurse for the first time wheeled her to the bathroom and helped her shower and dress could have powered a small nation.
    And maybe a day or two later, while dozing, she heard them discussing the expense of staying in London,how she was clearly going to be here for a while. It had taken a moment to work out that the she they were referring to was her.
    ‘We just left everything and dashed down when we heard what had happened,’ her mother said the next morning as she fed Lorna warm tea through a straw. ‘The neighbours are feeding the pets, I haven’t got any clothes. We don’t want you to think we’re abandoning you. If you give me the key to Grace’s I’ll sort out some clothes and toiletries, it will be nice to have your own things’
    ‘Thanks.’
    ‘It’s just we’ve been here a week now.’
    ‘A week?’ Lorna halted herself then, knew her endless questions just upset her mother and exasperated her father, but a week? She felt as if it should be two, maybe four days at the most.
    ‘You do understand.’ Betty had hugged her gently so as not to hurt her sore chest. ‘Only the doctor says you could be in for a while yet and we struggled to get a minister last Sunday to cover your father…’
    ‘Mum, you’ve done enough already, both of you.’ She lay back on the pillow, exhausted, even though it was only eight-thirty in the morning. ‘I’m so sorry for all the trouble.’
    ‘These things are sent to try us!’ her