Ruggiero began to fight his way up, swinging his arms wildly so that Polly, kneeling beside him, was knocked off balance. He managed to get onto one knee before keeling over and landing on her as she raised herself. She reached out quickly, supporting him as he collapsed against her, his head thrown back. For a moment she thought his eyes opened and closed again, but it was hard to be sure.

‘We should take off his helmet,’ she said, laying him gently back onto the ground.

Piero gently eased the helmet off, and now she could see Ruggiero clearly for the first time. It was the face in the photograph with Freda, but older, thinner, his hair disordered and damp with sweat, making him look vulnerable-something she guessed was rare for him. His eyes remained closed, but she saw his lips move.

‘What’s he saying?’ Piero asked.

‘I can’t tell.’ Polly leaned forward, putting her ear close. She felt the warmth of his breath against her cheek and heard a whispered name that made her tense and look at him sharply.

‘Sapphire!’

‘What did he say?’ Piero asked.

‘I-I didn’t catch it. Oh, good-there’s the stretcher. Let’s get him inside.’

She backed away as several men lifted him and began the journey back across the track. Polly stood watching, frozen with shock, until Evie put an arm around her.

‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes,’ she said in a dazed voice. ‘Yes, I’m fine.’

‘Come on-let’s follow them.’

His head was full of darkness, spinning at top speed, like an endless circle. In the centre of it was her face, smiling provocatively, as so often in their time together. But then the picture changed and he saw her as she’d been at the track, standing there, luring him on until he crashed.

But then she’d appeared beside him, taking him up in her arms, pulling open his clothes, speaking words of comfort. He’d groaned, reaching out to her, and she had vanished.