But he looks up sharply. Guiltily? ‘My . . . well, “girlfriend” seems wrong at our age. We met at work. It’s quite a recent thing.’

‘It’s important you have someone there. To talk to.’

Joel nods. ‘I ought to go back to the ward.’

I smile. ‘Yeah. I’ve got patients waiting. But take a minute in here, if you need to be on your own. And the surgeons are excellent. With her being so young, it might be OK . . .’

As I turn around to go, he touches my arm, and all the sensations he used to make me feel rush through me, like a time machine back to my teens.

‘Before you go, there’s something else. I need to thank you, Kerry.’

‘For what?’

‘For telling me what a piece of shit I was not to find Leo. Without that, I would have missed out on so much. I did try to tell you, not long after we broke up, but—’

‘Kerry! We need you in resus!’

Joel lets go. ‘Off to save another life?’

‘More likely something involving bodily fluids.’

And I leave the room before I can say anything stupid.

Chapter 57: Joel

18 March 2014

There’ve been sleepless nights with Leo, dozens of them. He was a grumpy baby, and as he’s grown, we’ve been through night terrors and terrible twos and incidents when he threw up like a zombie from one of my teen horror movies.

But this sleepless night is different. Every minute seems stuffed with dread and memories and missed chances.

As I wait for news, a nurse offers me leftover green cake, and I remember: it was St Patrick’s Day 2005 when Zoë got in touch to tell me she’d got clean. If I’d ignored her text, there would never have been a Leo.

I should have done more for Zoë. I might have saved her. If she makes it through this, I’m not going to take no for an answer. I’ll be her stalker. Send her letters and messages and photos of our son, to convince her that life is worth living.

Except—

It didn’t work when people tried to do that to me. I ignored them all: the doctors, nurses, paramedics, friends, my parents . . .

Kerry.

Is she happy now? She seemed calmer than last time I met her during my first live outside broadcast. But she was being professional, putting my feelings first.

Like she always did.

‘Mr Greenaway?’

A woman in scrubs comes into the waiting room. ‘Is she alive? Is Zoë alive?’

‘Yes. The surgeon will be along later, but we wanted you to know she’s come through the operation, though she’s lost a lot of blood. We’re moving her to ICU and once she’s settled, you should be able to see her, though she will be sedated.’