Medical textbooks and books on human biology had been my favourite reading material for years. It was time to call on some of that information. Troy needed to be put into the recovery position, if I remembered correctly. I bent his right leg and folded his right arm over his chest to turn him onto his side, before placing his right leg in front of his body to stop him rolling over onto his stomach. He was now on his left side, facing me, his eyes still closed.

‘Troy, wake up.’ His forehead was clammy, as were his cheeks. I felt for a pulse again. It was much easier to find this time, now that I’d remembered what I was doing, but it was so fast. Too fast?

‘Troy, come on. Please. Wake up.’

He was out cold.

And I didn’t have a clue what to do.

‘Troy, please. Wake up. Please.’ I knelt beside his motionless body, my fingers still pressing against his wrist to monitor his pulse. I bent so that my cheek was almost touching his nose. His breath was warm against my skin.

‘Troy, wake up.’

His eyes fluttered open. I could’ve hugged him for that alone.

‘Thank God. Don’t do that again! You scared the hell out of me. Are you OK? I thought … for a moment there, I thought—’

‘Ow!’ Troy groaned. ‘What happened?’

‘The banister rail gave way and you fell,’ I told him. ‘Later, when you’re feeling better, I’m going to rant at you about the stupidity of charging at a boarded-up door. Can you sit up?’

Rubbing the back of his head, Troy struggled to pull himself upright.

With my assistance, apart from the odd grunt or groan, he managed it, but he didn’t look good. He was looking more ashen by the second.

‘Can you stand?’ I asked. ‘I’ll help.’

Getting to my feet, I took Troy’s hands in mine to pull him up. Manoeuvring his legs beneath him, he started to stand, only to let out a howl like I’d never heard before. He let go of my hands and collapsed back onto the ground, sweat beads erupting across his forehead.

‘What? What is it?’

‘My foot …’ Troy’s entire face had a sheen to it as he tentatively pulled up his right trouser leg.

He wasn’t kidding either. His ankle had swollen up like a balloon.

‘What the—?’ Troy exclaimed when he saw it. ‘Great. Just great.’

‘Stay still.’ I took a look at his ankle. ‘Can you wiggle your toes?’

Troy did so, though he winced. Hmm … Actually, being able to wiggle his toes wasn’t necessarily proof that his ankle wasn’t broken. It could just mean that the muscles and nerves that allowed his ankle to move hadn’t been affected by the fracture – if that’s what it was. Cautiously I touched his ankle. Immediately he flinched.