The lights of A & E are ahead. This hospital represents Joel’s only hope of coming back from the dead. And my only remaining hope of becoming a doctor. I get a guaranteed med school interview here in my home city because I’m Mum’s carer.

It’s all I’ve ever worked for, all she’s ever wanted. My mother knows me better than anybody else in the world – except Kerry – and if she believes I can do it, I should believe it too.

She’ll certainly never forgive me if I don’t do it.

I should see what’s just happened as a lesson. Next time round, I can override my amygdala. Learn from my mistakes. And I did step in, eventually. I can talk about that at my interview, make my strategic thinking a positive. It will be the five years of training that make me the doctor I was born to be, not a few minutes of indecision.

‘I promise, Roger.’

‘It’s Jeff,’ he says, ‘but under the circumstances, I think you can be forgiven.’

Chapter 5: Kerry

A & E is deserted. The twitchiness I felt in the back of the police car turns into full-blown panic.

Where is Joel?

‘Hello? Is anyone there?’

My hands and arms ache and tingle from the CPR. But the feeling of powerlessness is worse. I need to do more.

I bang on the screen window at reception but no one appears. I bang again, beyond caring whether I smash the glass. At least that’d attract attention. The policewoman gently pulls my arm away.

‘We don’t need you slashing yourself, on top of everything, do we? It’s quiet because this is the calm before the storm. Your friend was lucky to get here before the new year punch-ups start.’

Lucky.

She goes to look for someone in authority. There are a few pissheads in the waiting area, handing round cans of beer and laughing too loudly.

A & E has never scared me before. The opposite, actually: I’ve been here three times, thanks to various scrapes, and each time I’ve liked the buzz more.

I even mentioned my experiences as a patient at one of my med-school interviews. The first time was after I fell out of a tree in Tim’s garden – I’d ignored him when he told me not to climb too high. The agony after my shoulder hit the earth was all-consuming.

But when I came into the hospital and they took me beyond those swishy double doors, a young woman – the most junior of junior doctors – took one look at me, laid her hands on me and warned me it would be excruciating for three seconds but then everything would be OK again.

I told the interview panel: She was right. It was like magic, the way she knew what to do. I want to be able to do that for people, too.

‘Kerry?’