She turns and walks into the bathroom. I follow, joining her at the sink. The mirror over it is steamed up so I can’t see our reflections as I open the first aid kit and rest it on the edge of the sink. I find a sachet of clear liquid then check that it’s saline before cutting the corner off with the small pair of scissors that’s at the bottom of the box, among the plasters and a roll of bandages.

‘Lean forward,’ I tell her, pouring some of it over her chin when she does, watching it spill off and splash into the sink below. She winces as I do and I stop. ‘Does it sting?’

She shakes her head. ‘It’s just cold.’

I do the same thing with her hands and when I’m done, I reach for the towel on the rail next to the sink and carefully pat her hands dry. That makes her wince again and I apologise, but she reaches for my wrist, curling her fingers around it so tightly that her silver rings dig into me, and I stop, scared that I’m hurting her.

But she lifts her eyelashes to look at me. ‘I missed you so much, Ash.’

‘I missed you, too,’ I say back immediately, not letting even a second pass.

Her eyes flutter shut and before I get a chance to hope it will happen, she tilts her head and presses her mouth to mine. Then there’s no space between us at all and I daren’t move, clutching on to the towel so I have something to hold on to because this can’t be real. I’m having one of those dreams you have when you’re sick, when you dream about being trapped in a house that’s on fire and you can’t get out.

Except I don’t want to get out.

I want to stay here for ever.