But he doesn’t ask me in or kiss me, and every part of my body feels that rejection, my arms empty, my lips bereft. He steps onto the limestone chippings, pulling the front door closed behind him. I take him in: the unshaven face, the wary eyes, the sour smell of alcohol, even though it’s still morning.

‘Are you all right?’ I ask. Stupid question.

He doesn’t bother to answer.

‘Why wouldn’t you see me?’

‘Have a guess.’

‘Please, talk to me. Whatever happened, it’s going to be OK.’

‘You think I’m fucking stupid—’

‘No I don’t.’

‘Yes you do. It’s going to be OK. No. It’s not. Football was all I had to live for and it’s gone and I might as well have died and you and fucking Timmy should have left me there, all right?’

I flinch. ‘We can get through this, together. You’re in shock—’

‘I’m not. I’m totally calm. I didn’t want to see you because it’s over. It was fun, but we were never gonna last.’

His voice has a hard quality I’ve never heard in him before. He sounds like his dad.

‘That’s it, then?’ My throat catches, and I hope he hasn’t heard it.

Joel shrugs. ‘Look, you’re not my type, Kerry. You knew that, right?’

‘So . . . why did it happen?’

He smiles, but his eyes are cold. ‘I felt sorry for you. Wanted to road-test my new gadget. Thanks for helping me give it a workout. You saved my life, I saved you going to university a virgin. We’re quits.’

He turns around before I can find any words. This time the door slams, and the chippings blur as I run towards the gates, determined he won’t see me cry.

Chapter 17: Kerry

17 August 2000

A. B. C.

I close my eyes but the letters are burned into my brain.

A for Biology, B for Chemistry, C for Physics. It might as well be three Fs.

Around me, I hear squeals of delight. Everyone else is off to uni. I am not.

‘Kerry? What does yours say?’ Tim’s hand is on my shoulder, anchoring me. I open my eyes and try to read his face because he’s opened his envelope too.

‘You first.’ I hold out my hand and he passes me his results slip. I brace myself to cope with his disappointment as well as my own. If I’ve failed, he must have done too.

A. A. A.

Wow. He did it. His hard work paid off. Thank God: one of us is going to be a doctor.