The key, he realizes, is to keep this as calm as possible.

And he is calm, he realizes.

Amazingly, he’s ready.

Will chucks his record bag to the floor. There are four records left inside, never to be played. The set was supposed to finish with The Beloved’s ‘The Sun Rising’ – a nod to that perfect night he and April spent on top of the Martello tower. But he needs to close this down right now. He fades the volume on the mixer and dives blindly across the stage, scratching his hands along the wall. Somewhere here there’s a bank of switches. He needs to get the house lights on. And he needs to get some doors opened.

‘Please, don’t let it be too late,’ Will says out loud. ‘Please. Please let there be time.’

With the sound system killed, his ears feel like they’re stuffed with cotton wool. But from the ringing silence, the sound of the crowd starts to rise. It sounds different to Will from how it did earlier.

Because now the crowd are screaming.

The Calm

The snow falls gently, six inches blanketing the ground. Will stares upwards, each snowflake sizzling as it lands on his burning forehead. He’s standing at the edge of the school grounds, the car park and playground separating him from the building. It’s all but empty inside now.

The cold air is doing the trick. He can feel his pulse slowing, his breathing finding some rhythm. The urge to vomit strikes from nowhere. He spins round to face the fence and retches, but nothing comes up.

‘What was all that about?’ he mutters to himself.

The sweat that breaks all over him is reassuring. He’s wearing just a T-shirt and, for the first time since he’s been out here, he can feel the cold.

‘What the fucking hell was all that about?’

‘Bangin’ tunes, bruv,’ a voice shouts.

Will nods at the kid, a growth-spurting year eight with arms and legs like pipe cleaners.

‘Cheers. Yeah. No worries,’ he says absently.

The kid starts windmilling his arm, ready to launch a long-distance snowball. ‘Bangin’. Should’ve played longer.’

‘Always leave your audience wanting more.’

‘Bangin’,’ the kid says again before releasing the snowball, his massive feet scrabbling in the snow as he scarpers.

The building emptied out fifteen minutes ago but nearly everyone is still on the school grounds. Most are messing around noisily in the snow. A small group smokes weed in the bin store, another shares laughing-gas balloons in the lobby outside the changing rooms. Couples disappear hand in hand in search of privacy.

Did I save these people, Will wonders, or did I go a bit crazy for a moment?

Are you a hero if no one knows what you did?

Am I kidding myself? Was it just some massive wobble?

It felt so real, though. It really, really felt like the end.