‘What makes you think I get nightmares—’

‘This isn’t the time.’ She’s already striding off, chasing the story. ‘Do what you want. You always do.’

I do get nightmares. They started before Leo came to live with me and they still mostly revolve around him. But I’ve never told Liv. Has she seen me thrashing around in bed? Is this another thing we can’t discuss?

I follow, because whatever happens in the future, she needs me now.

I’ve spent plenty of time filming in hospitals, but I haven’t been on the scene of a major incident before. It’s Liv who craves drama, which means I stick to science and lifestyle stuff so I can be there for Leo, though now he’s at secondary school, he needs me much less. Liv is the one with her overnight bag always packed, her camera on charge.

The scene is suddenly extremely crowded, despite the remoteness of the field. The paramedics, police and firefighters move with purpose, but the walking wounded dawdle and stop. Some wear winter coats but most have on only indoor clothes, as though they’ve been dropped here from their office or kitchen.

I begin to notice their injuries: a girl in a party dress with her wrist doubled back on itself. A man sits on a camping chair in the dim light, and I think he’s wearing odd socks till I realize the green one is a sock but the red one is his bare foot, soaked with blood.

How Liv keeps filming I don’t know. At least I can look away when I need to, whereas she must focus on the viewfinder. The firefighters are rescuing an elderly casualty, slicing through the wreckage, and his distress is unbearable.

I admire Liv for her resolve, yet being here makes me deeply uncomfortable. The casualties were in the wrong place at the wrong time. The emergency personnel have a job to do.

But us? What purpose are Liv and I serving, really?

OK, I’ve used the arguments myself when I’ve been talking to programme contributors: the educational benefits of TV, the myth-busting, and most of all the chance to tell an important story.

But where does education end and voyeurism begin?

Maybe I’m more uncomfortable because of the wrapped Christmas gifts that are scattered about, or the festive bottle of champagne leaking onto the carriage floor. But it feels like Liv is crossing the line tonight.

A casualty is taken away the instant the opening is large enough to gain access – he was talking but now he seems to have stopped.

As we follow them towards the ambulance, I look back. The carriage has been cut down the middle and glitters under the emergency lights, like a fish that’s been filleted.

Chapter 64: Kerry

I see Joel before he sees me.