No, more than that: it’s almost as much of a buzz as football was. As the red light goes off and we thank the boy and sign his cast, I exchange a glance with my mother.

Suddenly I understand completely what she loves about live TV and I realize it might run in the family.

I am on my way back to the broadcast van when I see her.

She’s standing with her back to me outside the convenience store in the lobby, staring at sandwiches in a fridge. Her hair is short, her body swathed in green scrubs, but however hard I try to convince myself I’m wrong, my body knows.

Kerry.

She shouldn’t be here. I checked with Ant, because I know they keep in touch. He’s always a bit cagey – I even wonder if she’s told him not to tell me anything – but he did say she’d almost qualified, and gave me the name of her hospital. It was a big relief when I discovered it wasn’t this one.

But he was wrong.

I am fighting two mutually exclusive instincts: to run towards her, or to run away. While I wait to see what my body decides, I’m staying still enough not to be noticed.

Except she’s turning around. My Kerry. She’s holding a sandwich in her hand – her fingers are ringless, but then, I know they can’t wear jewellery in theatre.

She’s sensed someone is watching her.

I’m walking towards her.

She’s exactly the same, except for a few faint lines on her forehead and a new haircut that curls around the bottom of her ears. When she sees me too, her lips part in surprise and even after all this time, the thing I really want to do is kiss her and . . .

‘You’re wearing make-up,’ she says, incredulous.

I put my hand to my forehead and feel the smoothness of the powder.

‘For TV.’ I gesture a TV camera rolling with my hands, as though we’re playing charades. ‘I’m here for work.’

She shakes her head and laughter lines appear at the edges of her eyes, deeper than before but still mischievous. God, I’ve missed her. ‘That’s your story and you’re sticking to it, right, Joel?’

‘It’s the truth. Shit, it’s good to see you.’

Around us, staff and patients chatter and stride, but they’re a blur because all that matters is her and me. How do I tell her that?

She’s frowning. Why is she frowning? It occurs to me that she might think I took this job on purpose. ‘I didn’t know you worked here, too, or I would never have . . .’

Kerry nods. ‘Don’t worry, it’s fine. How are you keeping?’