On the ninth floor, I lay in a coma and woke to Kerry’s face. On the seventh, I recovered from my surgery – and returned more than once when I tried to die but my ICD told me who was boss.

‘Floor Eleven, doors opening.’

I go right, following the signs to Brunswick, but as I turn the corner I see something – someone – that makes me freeze. It’s Tim, a few metres ahead of me. I hold back as he buzzes the intercom to get past the ward doors.

It’s never too late . . . except when it is.

A nurse turns the corner and swipes her entry card, so I slip in behind her, in time to see Tim heading into the bay on the left.

And now I see Kerry, sitting up in bed. Her face is too far away to read but I’d recognize her thick chestnut hair and her posture anywhere. They don’t kiss when he walks in but he’s holding something – an envelope – and she tears it open. It’s obviously a big deal because I hear a squeal and now they are embracing and kissing and—

‘Can I help you?’

The nurse I sneaked in with stands behind me. She has that ‘don’t fuck with me’ stance they must learn in training.

‘Oh, I came to see a patient. Kerry Smith.’ I move backwards, behind a trolley, so Kerry won’t see me if she looks up.

The nurse narrows her eyes. ‘It’s not visiting hours, so only immediate family are allowed in.’

Immediate family. Does that mean they’re married already?

I can just about hear Kerry’s voice from here, the excitement in it, though not the precise words, and I know whatever it is Tim has told her, this is not the time to interrupt.

I got what I came for: I know she’s OK. To push for more would disrespect her decision to make it work with Tim.

Sometimes it really is too late.

Chapter 49: Kerry

14 September 2006

I stand outside the Students’ Union building, waiting for someone to call me out as an imposter.

But as the minutes pass, I realize no one is taking any notice of me. I’m not being judged, I am being ignored.

Bloody Marilyn. I knew Freshers’ Week would be a waste of time and it’s her fault I am going through this. When she called to see how I was settling into the halls of residence, I told her I was going to get an early night so I’d be the one hangover-free person on the first morning of real lectures.

She scoffed. ‘That’d be the worst mistake you’ve ever made. And you’ve made some stinkers, let’s face it.’

‘I’m not in the mood for socializing.’