‘I’ve got something to tell you,’ Tim says, hours later, when we’re lying on the beach at dusk, bloated by too much beer, and looking up at the clear lilac sky above. ‘I don’t think I am going to be a doctor.’

I turn onto my side to look at him. Is this a joke? I can usually guess his punchlines but not this time. Maybe my instinct was right and he’s only now plucked up the courage to admit to his doubts. ‘Go on.’

He sighs. ‘We’re broke.’

It’s the last thing I expected him to say. ‘Says who?’

‘The bank. And the bungalow, too. The roof is raising an objection and the drains are kicking up a stink.’ He laughs.

I sit up quickly and regret it as the whole beach spins. ‘This isn’t very funny.’

Tim sits up too; his laughter has stopped. ‘I can’t afford to go to medical school, Kerry. The builders came to look at the cracks I spotted a few weeks ago and they think it’s subsidence, which is going to cost thousands to fix, and the place is worthless without it. Plus, we haven’t been able to pay the mortgage for three months now and I can’t go to uni if we’re homeless.’

The beach continues to whirl around me. ‘Three months? Has your dad stopped paying maintenance?’

‘The minute I hit eighteen last October.’

‘OK, so you get a student loan.’

‘It wouldn’t be anywhere near enough.’

‘What does your mum say? She’d live in a cardboard box if it meant you could still study medicine.’

‘I haven’t told her about the arrears, you know she handed the bills over to me ages ago. I never thought I’d get the grades for medicine so why worry her?’ Tim stares out to sea. ‘I do have a plan, though I know she won’t like it.’

From the sideways glance he gives me, I have a hunch I won’t like it either. ‘Selling your body?’

He scoffs. ‘Yeah, that’d barely pay for fixing the bath tap. No. I need to earn some money and get on top of the repairs before the whole place falls down. Try doing the plastering and decorating myself. Then sell the bungalow, buy a flat somewhere further out.’

‘A flat? How would that work with your mum’s wheelchair? And – not being funny – but you can barely butter toast without making holes in the bread. Plastering?’

‘Flats have lifts. Or we could move up to Scotland, where Mum’s family are – it’s cheaper up there.’ He exhales. ‘Once I’ve started work, got on top of the debts, things will be clearer.’

It feels like we’re on a listing ship. ‘You’ve already got a job?’