I’m crossing the car park with Mum on the way to one session, and I think I see Vince coming out of the main entrance. I don’t really recognise him, his hair’s a little longer, and before I can get close enough he’s gone the other way around the building. I’d like to think it’s him, and that he too is getting a little better, one day at a time.

Jamie keeps nagging at me, talking about how he’s nearly done with the physio on his leg, and how we made a great team, so once my arm comes out of the cast I start playing football again in the spring. Ahmed does too, and gets a few games starting in goal. We talk a bit, but not much. Almost as if the weight of what we could say to each other is too heavy for the first words to make their way out. Like they’re something stuck at the bottom of a well, maybe.

And then, in the late spring, Mum asks how I’d feel about moving away. Somewhere nearer Nanna and Grandad’s house, she says. She thinks that, if they’re closer, she won’t need to lean on them as much. And it’d be a fresh start. New pastures. I get it, and I agree.

But it means moving away from Dana.

We’ve been together every day since it happened. Once the investigation finished, the garden returned to being just another ignored corner of land on the edge of the building site, which moves slowly closer to being a new housing estate. We go back as often as we can, and Dana shows me the new plants as they come up, or the old ones as they bud and come into leaf all over again. We try replanting the bush over the well, which was filled in properly when the police finished – no sign of my laptop though, Sargant Prangle had said. The replanting seems to work, and we watch the scarlet shoots slowly growing every day. And so we try, with what time we have between all the exam revision, to put things back to normal. But it doesn’t feel like her place anymore, Dana says. And that’s OK, she says. She doesn’t feel like she needs it as much. Not anymore.