George was still holding her hand. She could feel the warmth of his palm in hers, and snatched her hand back. If she could feel his body heat, then it was real, and she didn’t want any of this to be true. Bile rose in her throat, and she retched. I’m going to be sick, she thought, and covered her mouth with her hand as she heaved.

‘Over there,’ the doctor said and pointed to a door on the other side of the corridor.

Sarah ran towards the bathroom, but she couldn’t hold it any longer, and stopped to lean forward. She placed a hand on the wall to steady herself as she uncontrollably vomited on the corridor floor.

George was by her side and offered her a handkerchief from his pocket. She took it and wiped her mouth. Her own handkerchief was in her handbag. She’d left it behind in her haste to get to the hospital. She wondered why she was having such inane thoughts. What was the matter with her? She had just been told that Tommy was dead.

‘Come on, love. Come and sit down again,’ George urged.

Sarah couldn’t look at him, didn’t want to make eye contact, knowing that if she did she would see his sympathy and it might break her. She wanted to stay in this cocoon – this numb bubble of denial and disbelief. She was safe there and wanted to shut out the world around her.

The nurse appeared again. She handed George the cup of tea and then put her arm around Sarah’s waist and led her back to the chair. ‘Come on, dear,’ she said gently. ‘Don’t worry about the mess. I’ll have an orderly clean it up.’

Sarah allowed the nurse to sit her down, and accepted the cup of tea from George as the nurse continued, ‘Drink it up, dear, it’ll make you feel better.’

How can it make me feel better if I can’t feel anything? Sarah thought, but nonetheless she sipped the hot sweet tea.

Lena had stopped crying, but was still sniffing, and as she looked at her, Sarah suddenly felt as though she was being pulled back to reality – a reality she still didn’t want to face. This wasn’t a nightmare. This was really happening, but her mind cried out against it. She wanted to go back in time, to before Tommy had died, but knew it was impossible. She wanted so much to hold him, to cuddle him for one last time. She asked, ‘Please, can I see him?’

‘Yes, of course. Nurse, take Miss Jepson to see her brother.’

‘This way,’ the nurse said, and walked with Sarah towards a set of double doors.