Ant’s already seen the video, but I tell him how it’s got Kerry into big trouble. ‘Sounds crazy that they’d sack her for being a hero, but she’s never been someone to exaggerate. And now she never wants to see me again.’

‘Bloody hell, you’re still a trouble magnet, aren’t you, Banana Man?’

‘I need to fix this.’

‘Maybe you can’t.’

‘If you’re saying that, Ant, I really am in the shit.’

The girls spin by on their gold-painted horses and the jaunty carousel melody sounds to me like something out of a horror film.

‘You don’t have any control over what Liv put out there. You don’t have any control over whether Kerry’s bosses throw the book at her. And you certainly can’t change her mind if she believes you care more about your career than her.’

I nod. ‘Now you’ve put it like that, I guess I really am fucked.’

‘Uncle Joel, can we go again?’

I pay for them to repeat the ride. The sun is freakishly warm but I feel shivery and disorientated. What happens now?

‘You know, sometimes I do wonder if it would have been much better for everyone if Kerry had never resuscitated me . . .’

Ant gives me a strange look. ‘Don’t be so self-indulgent. It would have been a lot worse if she’d tried and failed.’

Is the world a better place with me in it? ‘What can I do, Ant?’

The carousel is slowing and the girls are clambering off. ‘Wish I knew. It’s not like you can take that video down now, is it? The whole thing’s gone viral. You just have to wait till the next sensation comes along to knock yours off the top slot. So unless you can find yourself a skateboarding duck or a dog that sings like Rihanna, you’ll have to be patient.’

I don’t move. His words swirl.

The girls swamp him with hugs and he stands up. ‘I’d better get back to the caff. You coming for a coffee? Joel?’

I stare at him, something else clicking into place. ‘You’re a genius. I think I might know what to do.’

Chapter 68: Kerry

31 December 2017

After I’m discharged, I go back to the flat alone.

My parents come round with Christmas leftovers and I put on the best act I can. They try to talk me into going to the Pier Players’ New Year Bash – this year the theme is Stranger Things, so they’ve dug original 1980s tracksuits out of the loft – but they give up without too much of a fight.

After Mum and Dad leave, I sit by the window and watch as the sky turns grey, then deep blue, then black. The wind picks up.