He spent the night in intensive care, and was transferred to a high-dependency unit in the morning. Donna called his parents, and said she would stop by his place after she’d had some sleep to feed his animals. We went in to see him together shortly after midnight, but he was asleep, still ashen, a mask obscuring most of his face. I wanted to move closer to him but I was afraid to touch him, hooked up as he was to all those wires and tubes and monitors.

‘He really is going to be okay?’

She nodded. A nurse moved silently around the bed, checking levels, taking his pulse.

‘We were lucky it was an older handgun. A lot of kids are getting hold of semi-automatics now. That would have been it.’ She rubbed at her eyes. ‘It’ll probably be on the news, if nothing else happens. Mind you, another crew dealt with the murder of a mother and baby on Athena Road last night, so it’s possible it won’t be news at all.’

I tore my gaze from him, and turned to her. ‘Will you carry on?’

‘Carry on?’

‘As a paramedic.’

She pulled a face, as if she didn’t really understand the question. ‘Of course. It’s my job.’ She patted me on the shoulder and turned towards the door. ‘Get some sleep, Lou. He probably won’t wake up until tomorrow anyway. He’s about eighty-seven per cent fentanyl right now.’

My parents were waiting when I stepped back into the corridor. They didn’t say anything. I gave a small nod. Dad took my arm and Mum patted my back. ‘Let’s get you home, love,’ she said. ‘And into some clean things.’

It turns out there is a particular tone of voice that emanates from an employer who, several months previously, had to listen to how you couldn’t come to work as you had fallen off the fifth floor of a building, and now would like to swap shifts because a man who may or may not be your boyfriend has been shot twice in the stomach.

‘You – he has – what?’

‘He was shot twice. He’s out of intensive care but I’d like to be there this morning when he comes to. So I was wondering if I could swap shifts with you.’

There was a short silence.

‘Right … Uh. Okay.’ He hesitated. ‘He was actually shot? With an actual gun?’

‘You can come and inspect the holes, if you like.’ My voice was so calm I almost laughed.

We discussed a couple more logistical details – calls that needed to be made, a visit from Head Office, and before I rang off, Richard grew silent for a moment. Then he said, ‘Louisa, is your life always like this?’

I thought of who I had been just two and a half years ago, my days measured in the short walk between my parents’ house and the café; the Tuesday-night routines of watching Patrick running or supper with my parents. I looked down at the rubbish bag in the corner, which now contained my bloodstained tennis shoes. ‘Possibly. Although I’d like to think it’s just a phase.’

After breakfast, my parents left for home. My mother didn’t want to go, but I assured her that I was fine, and that I didn’t know where I would be for the next few days so there would be little point in her staying. I also reminded her that the last time Granddad was left alone for more than twenty-four hours he had eaten his way through two pots of raspberry jam and a tin of condensed milk in lieu of actual meals.

‘You really are all right, though.’ She held her hand to the side of my face. She said it as though it wasn’t a question, although it clearly was.

‘Mum, I’m fine.’

She shook her head and made to pick up her bag. ‘I don’t know, Louisa. You do pick them.’

She was taken aback when I laughed. It might have been leftover shock. But I like to think it was then that I realized I wasn’t afraid of anything any more.

I showered, trying not to look at the pink water that ran from my legs, and washed my hair, bought the least limp bunch of flowers I could find at Samir’s, and headed back to the hospital for ten a.m. Sam’s parents had arrived several hours previously, the nurse told me, as she led me to the door. They had headed over to the railway carriage with Jake and Jake’s father to fetch Sam’s belongings.

‘He wasn’t very with it when they came but he’s making more sense now,’ she said. ‘It’s not unusual when they’re recently out of theatre. Some people just bounce back quicker than others.’

I slowed as we reached the door. I could see him now through the glass, his eyes closed, as they had been last night, his hand, strapped up to various monitors, lying motionless alongside his body. There was stubble on his chin and while he was still ghostly pale, he looked a little more like himself.

‘You sure I’m okay to go in?’

‘You’re Louise, right? He’s been asking for you.’ She smiled and wrinkled her nose. ‘Give us a shout if you get tired of that one. He’s lovely.’

I pushed the door slowly and his eyes opened, his face turning slightly. He looked at me then, as if he were taking me in, and something inside me weakened with relief.

‘Some people will do anything to beat me on the scar front.’ I closed the door behind me.

‘Yeah. Well.’ His voice emerged as a croak. ‘I’ve gone right off that game.’ He gave a small, tired smile.

I stood, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. I hated hospitals. I would do almost anything never to enter one again.