‘You wouldn’t want to go down there, bruv,’ he says to Will.

Why are we laughing along with him? Will’s thinking. Why do I laugh when he’s not funny? Why are we so keen to make him think he’s amusing us?

‘Stop it,’ she says. She slaps him playfully, despite her obvious embarrassment.

‘I’m only joking,’ Danny says. ‘You know I’m just having a laugh with you.’

She punches his arm.

‘I’m not joking,’ Danny stage whispers again at Will as he leaves the room. ‘Fucking stinks, it does.’

His sniggering is drowned out by the shower firing up beyond the open bathroom door.

‘Suppose I’ll see you Monday, Will,’ April says quietly as she steps backwards on to the stairs.

‘Sorry. He’s a bit of a dick sometimes.’

Again, Will is laughing, like it’s all a bit of a joke.

April’s smile shakes at the corners. ‘Don’t worry.’

‘Probably shouldn’t say things like … He doesn’t mean it … Just having a bit of a laugh.’ He hates himself a little more with each excuse.

‘It takes more than that to upset me, I assure you.’ She says it too bouncily, backing down the stairs.

She spins round too late and Will sees the first tear fall.

He wants to hug her, like he did that afternoon on the Martello tower. But he knows it’s too late now. Mick Touch’s words come back to him, from the night of the shoe-licking incident: You gotta act a bit braver than that when you’ve got an audience. The chance to do the right thing is gone.

‘Get rehearsing on those decks, Mr DJ,’ she calls up to him.

He gives her a thumbs up.

‘Counting on you here, Will. You can do this.’

Stop beating yourself up.

You’re doing better than you think you are, trust me. The biggest single step to making a change is wanting things to be different. You want things to be different. You want to be different. That’s the most important thing of all.

Stop your worrying.

I’m right with you.

Be ready for me.

Because an opportunity is coming up, a chance to get a message across to you. I don’t claim to know everything, but I know these chances have to be taken.

Taken Down

‘Five minutes, folks,’ a nurse quietly tells Will, Danny and their mum. He positions himself right in Nain’s face. ‘Taking you down in five minutes, my love,’ he tells her.

‘I’m fine,’ she whispers into her oxygen mask, looking Will in the eye. He hasn’t said anything but evidently his expression is giving him away.

‘A turn for the worse,’ that’s what the nurse had said when he rang the house before seven a.m. ‘You might want to come and see her today.’