‘Did she say how uni is going?’ I gesture for Ant to hand the joint over. I never smoked before June but it’s the only way I can sleep now.

‘She never went! Dunno why not, but she’s working for the ambulance now, answering 999 calls. Oh, and even bigger breaking news? She’s living with Tim.’

Sourness fills my mouth, so sharp I might throw up. ‘Tim?’

‘She swore they’re just flatmates, but that’s weird, right, her parents only live over the road. Has to be something going on, like we always thought. Nerd on nerd action!’

I can’t speak.

Ant hasn’t noticed. ‘You know, when Kerry kept visiting the hospital, I did wonder if she had a thing for you.’

‘She’s not my type.’

‘Yeah. Way too clever for you!’ Ant laughs. ‘But you need to get in the saddle again. Otherwise, what’s the point in being alive?’

I don’t tell him that I wonder about that every single day.

A Guide to the Chain of Survival: Part 2

The moment someone has a cardiac arrest, the clock starts ticking.

Every minute that passes without help increases a person’s chance of dying by ten per cent or more.

But you can do something, and the only equipment needed is your hands. You’ve seen it on TV, on hospital shows or disaster movies. CPR, that crazy pounding on someone’s chest, is simple and anyone can do it. Kids, pensioners, you.

CPR stands for cardiopulmonary resuscitation. Pushing down on the chest allows you to take over the job of the stopped heart: sending blood and oxygen around the person’s body and, especially, to their brain, which needs it most for survival.

You need to use enough force to bruise or even break a rib. You might be worried you’re going to do more harm than good. But if someone has had a cardiac arrest, they are effectively already dead. You cannot make things worse. But you can make things a hell of a lot better.

Remember the chain of survival? The second link in the chain takes courage.

2. Begin CPR as soon as possible and don’t stop until expert medical help arrives and can take over.

Chapter 20: Kerry

10 September 2001

‘Ambulance service. Is the patient breathing?’

‘No. No! It’s my dad, he was making tea literally just now, and I heard this thump and – Dad, Dad, wake up!’

A Category 1 call. This is why we exist.

‘OK, I need you to stay calm for me. Help is on the way. What’s your father’s name and how old is he?’

‘Mike. Mike Purcell. He’s sixty-seven. Come soon, please! Dad!’

As I take her details, I hear the hiss of the kettle in her kitchen, a late-night local radio discussion about parking permit zones. ‘And what’s your name?’

‘Jane.’

Jane is the first link in the chain.