Love is troublesome. Whenever we touch on what happened to Joel, I hate myself for the lies Tim and I told. One day, soon, I have to explain to Joel what really happened, that it was me who did the CPR as well as the rescue breaths. Not because I want credit, but because now we’re so close, it feels wrong to keep any secrets about the night when everything changed.

Most of all, love is scary.

Because the rational part of me knows this cannot last. Even if we stay together till I go to medical school, some other girl will pounce on him the instant I board the train to Manchester.

But for now, my brain chooses to ignore the inevitability that Joel will hurt me one day.

Chapter 15: Joel

9 May 2000

She makes me stronger.

Is it the way she looks at me? Like I’m the old Joel, the one with all the strength and the talent? When I see myself through her eyes, I can believe I haven’t lost everything.

‘What will we do to celebrate on Friday?’ she asks.

We’re in the den – we spend most of our time here, because Kerry gets jittery when we’re out in case we’re spotted together – and we’re trying not to have sex, because it’s my physical tomorrow.

If we manage it, it’ll be the first time since we got together on her birthday.

One of Dad’s mates gets him pirate videos, so we’ve tried to distract ourselves watching Final Destination, though every time someone dies, Kerry gives me a weird look like she’s expecting me to burst into tears.

But keeping my hands off her is so tough. Maybe we should do it, get it out of our systems, because I like how we are afterwards, too. Listening to her talking about her dreams, telling her mine. They couldn’t be more different, but she tries to imagine how it feels to be on the pitch, and I try to get my head round the fact she likes gore so much she wants to make a career out of it.

‘What would you do with that?’ I ask her, every time one of the actors loses a limb or ends up with a gatepost through their skull.

‘A tourniquet.’ She slaps my hand, which I swear has started creeping up her top without me knowing. ‘Not till the weekend, OK?’ She wants to focus on revision for her first exam on Thursday.

I sigh. ‘The weekend. Might as well be ten years away.’ But I sit on my hands to stop them misbehaving. ‘How about I take you to . . . I dunno, Concorde, to show you off? The lads always take their girlfriends there on Fridays; we’ll get into the VIP lounge, show I’m back in the game?’

She raises her eyebrows. ‘When the exams are over.’