He hesitates. ‘I . . . I don’t know. I didn’t expect to get these results. I thought I’d be calling clearing now, or thinking about resits myself. It’ll take me a while to adjust.’

You and me both.

Except there’s something in his tone that makes me wonder if there’s more to this.

‘But in a good way, right?’ I give him a look, the raised eyebrows tight-lipped expression that always makes him tell me the truth. ‘I mean, you do still want to do medicine?’

Tim seems frozen, exactly as he was on the Lawns eight months ago. If he’s having doubts, it’s better that he faces them now. ‘You know, nothing’s set in stone. You could still do biochemistry. Your mum’ll get over it. It’s not the end of the world. Tell me what you want.’

He says nothing. A gull swoops towards us, as though it’s about to dive bomb, and we both duck, sensing the air moving as it passes only inches from the tops of our heads.

‘I want to get drunk, Kerry. Because we both need to! But before that, there’s something else I have to do . . .’ For a moment I think he’s going to kiss me.

And I wonder what it might be like. ‘What’s that?’

But now he’s frowning. ‘It can wait.’ He links his arm in mine and we cross over to the cafe. We haven’t been here since my birthday and I cling on tighter to Tim.

We have to fight to get inside and up to the counter. Ant is serving, throwing bottles in the air like he’s a cocktail barman, nodding his head along to Eminem.

‘We’re out of Estrella!’ he shouts towards the kitchen. ‘Oi, Joel, did you hear me, we need MORE ESTRELLA!’

Joel.

I need to leave. I twist around but more people are already backing up behind me. I try to push my way out but the wall of drunk sixth formers doesn’t budge.

He steps through the door with a crate of beer, and it’s as if he knew I was there all along: he looks directly at me. Despite everything, I can’t take my eyes from his.

You made me fail. I saved your life and you ruined mine.

He drops the crate at Ant’s feet with a clatter and rushes back into the kitchen. Should he be carrying heavy bottles? Did he ever love me?

‘Stop,’ I say aloud, and Tim turns to me, concerned.

‘What’s up?’

I reach for his hand: solid in mine. My best friend, the person I can always rely on.

‘We’re never going to get served in here,’ I call out over the music and the clamour. ‘Let’s go to the beach and celebrate on our own. You’re going to be a doctor!’