I think about how cruel she’s been to Tim in this life, but that doesn’t mean she deserves to suffer. ‘It’s unfair, Elaine.’

‘At least I won’t be hanging around for years.’ Her voice breaks slightly on years but she picks up the knife and cuts her scone in half, focusing on spreading the jam evenly across the two pieces. ‘That had always been my fear, that I’d become even more of a burden to Tim.’

I’ve never realized Elaine has had any concept of how hard it’s been for her son. ‘Oh, Tim loves you to bits.’

‘Yes, hen, but I’m still a burden. To both of you. This way . . . it’ll be cleaner.’

I think of the 999 calls I take from people with advanced cancer, and I know that ‘clean’ is the last thing we can expect. The next months will be chaotic. Merciless. ‘We have to tell him now.’

‘Not yet.’

‘Elaine . . .’

‘Not till after his finals. I’ve been tough on him because the world is a tough place. But he’s so close now. We can’t risk him falling at the last fence, can we, Kerry?’

‘You’re going to get a lot sicker before then.’

She smiles. ‘Probably. But observation has never been one of Tim’s strengths. The longer we can keep him in his bubble, the better his chances of passing. We’ve all worked too bloody hard to let him fall at the final hurdle.’

Lying about this turns out to be doable. As Elaine says, Tim is not great at reading people.

Plus, it’s not the first time I’ve kept huge things from him either. He never knew what happened with Joel and me at Christmas, though he’s seen the aftermath. In January and February I felt lost. If anything, the blackness that descended was worse than the first time Joel let me down, because I felt like such a fool.

Tim didn’t push me. Instead, he was kind and he waited, and I see those qualities now for what they are: the mark of someone who is growing up and trying his hardest. However difficult it is, I know I made the right decision to be with him. That rebounding between them, like a ball in a pinball machine, had to end.

The confirmation of Elaine’s cancer has made me snap out of my self-obsession at long last. Now I am all about the practicalities as we hunker down. I make lasagnes and soups on my days off and parcel them up so Tim can stick a portion in the microwave between revision sessions, shovelling it down so fast I’m sure he doesn’t notice what he’s eating. The system works well for Elaine too, because I can reheat stuff for her when she isn’t feeling nauseated.