He still loves seeing me on screen, just like the very first time he saw me in the Unbeatables documentary. I close my eyes and imagine his face, as he sits at home with my father in the viewing room, with home-made popcorn and the sugar-free cola Granny insists he drinks.

So long as I focus on the patients’ stories, I can distract myself from my nerves . . .

In my earpiece, I hear the opening titles and the voices of the two main presenters as they introduce the twenty-four-hour New Year special from the Royal Bloomsbury Hospital.

‘And to see 2013 in with some class, we also have a couple of guest presenters today. One you might recognize from many previous New Year live broadcasts. But the other . . . well, there’s an excellent reason we’re kicking off in the kids’ accident and emergency department. Over to you, Lynette Greenaway.’

The light on top of the main camera turns red and Mum switches on her full beam smile. She’s wearing a Scandi jumper and she looks in her element. ‘That’s right. Over here in children’s casualty, it’s a family affair – and we’re no exception. Because my co-presenter for the next week is someone I know rather well . . .’

‘Hello, I’m Joel,’ I read from the autocue. ‘I’m a personal trainer, I make funny videos about staying fit – and I also happen to be Lynette’s son. I’ve had a few mishaps, but Mum’s always been there for me.’

‘Yes, this lad has given me many sleepless nights over the years but somehow we made it through in one piece. Right now, we’re going to meet another young man who has been in the wars . . .’

The camera tracks along as we head towards our first patient, a boy of Leo’s age who fell off the new bike he got for Christmas. There are questions on the autocue but my mother veers gently off script and I try doing the same. It feels risky, after all this time working with anxious directors who literally put words into my mouth. But broadcasting live means the people in the gallery have no real control over what we say.

‘When Joel was your age, he was always in such a hurry, we wanted him to wear a crash helmet in the house, never mind on his bike.’

‘Yes, Mum, but you are the only one in our house to break a bone while icing a cake.’

We tease each other and it relaxes the boy and his mother so much that they’re soon joking around too.

In my earpiece, the director in the gallery counts us out of our segment and the other presenter back in, but I want the cameras to stay on us because this is . . . well, fun.