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‘Is he awake?’
    ‘Yes, and I asked him for his details.’
    ‘What did he tell you?’
    The sister pursed her lips before replying, ‘Andrew Myers!’
    ‘I’ll have a word.’ Lisa headed for his bed.
    ‘You’ve caused a lot of bother.’
    He frowned. He should remember her, but his recollection of recent events was more than hazy. ‘How did I get here?’ His voice sounded pathetically weak.
    ‘I brought you in. I’d to stop you because your driving was all over the place.’ She smiled. ‘I thought you were drunk, until I saw your injuries. You shouldn’t have driven in that condition.’
    He remained silent.
    ‘How long are you in for? Have they told you yet?’
    ‘Another two days perhaps.’
    ‘I have some questions.’ She looked at him as she spoke and was shocked at the change her innocuous remark brought about. His face became a mask of wary tension. She pretended not to notice. ‘How did the accident happen? Can you remember?’
    ‘I think the chain hit something, a nail or maybe a hard knot. Anyway it snapped and flew back at me.’
    ‘Where did it happen?’
    ‘In Layton Woods.’
    ‘Is that where you work?’
    He shook his head. ‘I work for Winfield Estate. It borders Layton Woods. I was clearing a section of woodland that crosses the boundary between the two estates.’
    ‘Can you confirm a few personal details for my file? Your full name, address, date of birth and occupation.’ She waited, biro poised, as he hesitated.
    ‘Andrew Myers, Woodbine Cottage, Kirk Bolton. I’m a forester employed by Winfield Estate and my date of birth is the first of February 1971.’
    ‘Married or single?’
    Again she noticed the momentary hesitation before he replied. ‘Single.’
    ‘OK, I’ve only one more question. Can you explain why you don’t appear on any official records? The hospital computer failsto recognize an Andrew Myers with that date of birth as having ever been allocated an NHS, or National Insurance number.’
    She was uncertain what to expect. Fear, possibly anger. What she saw in Myers’ expression was a mixture of bitterness, resignation and sadness. His reply was a long time coming. ‘A man may call himself whatever he wants. If I wake up tomorrow and decide to call myself Geoffrey Thompson for the day, nobody can stop me. If I want to change it the next day, I can do that too. There’s no law against it.’
    ‘Listen,’ she said; her voice low but firm. ‘You’ve caused a lot of trouble. Not just for me, but for your friend Mr Dickinson, and for the hospital. I didn’t get home until gone midnight and my shift should have finished at 6 p.m. And no, we don’t get paid overtime. Apart from that, if I hadn’t stopped you when I did, you’d probably be dead.’
    His mouth twisted bitterly. ‘You wouldn’t have to do crowd control at the funeral.’
    ‘Oh for God’s sake, spare me the self pity.’
    He tried to shrug then winced. ‘Look,’ he said firmly. ‘It isn’t that I don’t appreciate your help, but I just want to be left alone. Is that too much to ask?’
    ‘Mr Myers. All I’m trying to do is wind up this matter. I need to know why you insist on calling yourself by a false name.’
    He sighed wearily. ‘Don’t you lot ever give up? Don’t you ever let a man alone once you’ve had your teeth into him? It’s as if you piss on him and leave a scent for others to follow. Why can’t you simply take it on trust that I’ve done nothing that would remotely interest you? Can’t you leave me alone to get on with my life? All I want is to remain anonymous.’
    There was a long silence before she said, ‘Trust? OK, I’ll do a deal with you. Tell me why you want to remain anonymous. If I’m satisfied you’re on the level I promise it’ll go no further. How’s that?’
    He nodded agreement. ‘But not here though, and not yet. When I get out of this place. I’ll tell you then.’
    ‘It’s a deal.’

chapter three
    ‘Morning, Lisa, finding your