He tried counting up to five thousand, only he kept losing the thread. At some point he heard a voice, echoing through the semi-darkness, growing louder. When he opened his eyes Andrea was standing in the doorway, arms limp at her sides as she surveyed the scene. “I’m okay.” He lifted his head on the off chance she was interested. She stepped over the debris and helped him to stand. “We’d better get you to A&E.” “Shouldn’t we wait for the police?” “No need. I phoned Ray and he’s on his way. Did you see them? Did they take anything?” Her Florence Nightingale act needed more work. He danced around the details — two people, probably, and no one spoke. Maybe they just wanted to cause damage, or else he had scared them off. “I’ll make some coffee.” She seemed to be talking mainly to herself.
