‘Okay, brother,’ he said, smiling from the corner of his mouth. ‘Okay, I’ll get off – but you tell me. What’s the penance? There has to be one.’

He teetered for a second and then steadied himself with a hand. I was halfway to him by the time he was stable again. His hand flung out again by way of warning.

‘You don’t need redeeming,’ I said, stopping. ‘Not you, of all people. Come on. Back here.’

He laughed a little. ‘But the oblivion. There’s the oblivion I relegated you to. That’s a crime,’ he said, his voice becoming shrill.

‘I was being dramatic.’

‘No. Not dramatic. You were being truthful,’ he said seriously. ‘So, tell me, Xand, how do I recover from that?’

The wind up there felt strong. It came upon him suddenly, buffeting him and panicking me.

‘You can live,’ I said quickly.

‘And then what? I knew it all along. I saw it. I saw how he was with you and how he was with me. And I did nothing. I didn’t want to. I wanted it to be like that.’

‘You don’t know what you’re saying,’ I said and the words or half of them were carried away by wind.

‘I do, Xander. What do you think all of this is? My life’s misery hasn’t just been about this,’ he said.

He was crying then and tears ran down his cheeks in fat streams, and suddenly I was thrown back to that same day in the park, Rory on his knees, Wotsits sodden on the grass. I stepped forward and he yelped, holding out his hand.

‘No!’ he said, eyes blazing.

In a single step, I could be up against him. It would take just one step. I fixed my eyes on his. He was crying so hard that all I wanted was to hold him. He was crying so hard he was in danger of falling.

I took the leap and threw my arms around him. He stiffened before collapsing into me. He sobbed and as he did he clutched at me. I pulled him back over the rail and he crumpled to the floor. We stayed like that for some minutes.

‘Come in, Rory,’ I said, once he had stopped crying.

He looked up at me, his face wet and red at the eyes and pulled himself to his feet and allowed me to usher him in.

When I left late the next morning, he saw me to the door and embraced me.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. But I didn’t read any sorrow – only desperation.

When he dropped to his death some days later, I buried this episode in my head. And now it comes back to me.

And yet.