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now.
    â€˜What do you remember?’ He folded his hands and flung the question at her nonchalantly.
    â€˜Crashing the car.’
    â€˜Anything else?’
    â€˜Yes. The reason I crashed.’ She paused to draw a needful breath. ‘It was an unfamiliar make of car and that being so I was handling it with excessive caution. The road was twisty, so I didn’t see the yellow car until it was almost on top of me. That idiot driver! He came hell for leather round the bend, on my side of the road! If I hadn’t swerved into the ditch it would have been a head-on collision.’
    â€˜I think it is only fair to point out,’ he inserted tonelessly, ‘that the idiot driver, as you call him, acted with commendable presence of mind and saved you from possible burns.’ He was watching her closely, as if he’d given her the vital piece of a jigsaw puzzle, and it was only a matter of moments before she clicked it into place and made complete a hitherto senseless picture.
    â€˜Yes, I remember bits. I was semi-conscious when he reached me. I think I was pretty far gone because I’d concentrated all my efforts on getting out of that wretched car. I did get out, didn’t I? Under my own steam, I mean? The door was jammed but I thought—?’
    â€˜Yes,’ he said in that same, unemotional monotone. ‘You got out. Howard Mitchell, that’s the name of your rescuer arrived in time to carry you clear.’
    â€˜I’m sorry, but from that point I only seem to remember colours. Fiery, flashing colours in shades of red, orange and yellow. I don’t know why. But wait a minute, I believe I do know why. You said he saved me from possible burns. That can only mean—’ She covered her face with her hands as partial realization washed over her. (The immensity of her loss didn’t hit her until later). She didn’t want him to see the torment in her eyes.
    â€˜I think I knew all along,’ she said at last. ‘Deep down I knew the petrol tank had exploded. The car is—?’
    â€˜A write-off.’
    â€˜Oh!’ she gulped.
    â€˜What is it?’ His eyes seemed to burn a way through her fingers, yet, surprisingly, his tone was uncritical and she knew she had not earned his contempt. ‘Didn’t you insure?’
    â€˜Only third party. Foolish of me. Not only am I accident prone, but I do foolish things, take ridiculous chances. Was nothing saved?’—hopefully.
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜My suitcase, my handbag containing every penny I owned was in that car.’ Even then it was doubtful if it fully registered. He took hold of her fingers and lifted them away from her face.
    â€˜Look at me!’ His voice was a thrust, a roar, a command. ‘You can look at me. Feel me.’ As his voice, by its strength and enthusiasm, impelled her to hear, his fingers folded round hers, forcing her to know, and acknowledge, the sensation of touch. ‘You can feel me with your own two good hands. You can get out of that bed and walk out of this hospital on your own two good legs. Isn’t that wonderful? Marvellous? Aren’t you the luckiest girl alive!’ He paused, shaken. As if the wonder and magnanimity had only just penetrated. Gruffly, how gruffly, how humbly he said:
    â€˜You’re alive, Karen. Within a week the scratch on your arm will disappear, the bruise on your cheek, fade. You’re a whole woman.’
    A whole woman . . . lucky to be alive . . . breathing, feeling, seeing.
    Why couldn’t she gloat? Where was the glorious feeling of exultation?
    Her hand found the hollow at the base of her throat. This time her face might have been marked. That would have been more shattering than . . .
    But everything. Possessions are nothing, until you haven’t got any to possess. Her fingers danced away from his, to curl into mallets and hammer the pillow. ‘That idiot! That damned idiot! If only he’d been