‘He’s really using that up-draught to make the hits big and clean . . . Will he go for the Frontside Double Cork 1080? We’ve heard he’s pulled it off in training, will tonight be the . . . Yes! Oh and it’s good though! . . . He stomps that down!’

Clover gasped as she saw Kit land cleanly on the last jump, his arms flying up and punching the air as he carved to a stop.

‘And that’s going to be a high, high score for the former surfer’s final run! . . . What a debut! He made it look easy out there tonight . . . Is there anything Kit Foley can’t do?!’

Matty squealed and threw her arms around Clover’s neck as the crowds in the bleachers went wild. People were blowing on horns, chanting his name. The cameras came in close, seeing how his eyes were burning as he whipped off his helmet and goggles and threw them into the air.

Clover watched in amazement as the crowd’s support wrapped around him as he pivoted on the spot, his arms above his head. She could see the disbelief in his face. She had never seen him look like this before. She’d never seen him happy.

‘He knows it’s good! He knows the crowd knows it too! That could well be the gold medal run of the night . . .!’

Clover’s fingers pressed to her mouth as she watched him, drinking him in, tears pooling in her eyes as she watched him get his wish: Success. The best revenge.

The score flashed up suddenly on the giant board.

A perfect 10!

Everyone was screaming now! He’d done it! With only two riders to follow, there was almost no chance they could catch him with their aggregates, unless they scored tens too.

She watched as he sank to his knees, the emotion overwhelming him suddenly. His head dropped, his hands planted in the snow. She saw his shoulders heave from the emotion, the mental strain break over him like a wave, as for several moments he stayed kneeling on the snow. Every single person watching knew the pressures that had been bearing down on him. The lies that had been told.

‘Foley! Foley! Foley!’

The crowd was chanting his name in perfect unison, showing him they were behind him. For him. Was this redemption? He looked up and the cameras caught the wetness of his lashes. The champion was mortal. He was flesh and blood and tears after all.

He raised a hand in acknowledgement to them all. He’d done what he’d come here to do.

And so had she, in the end – exposed the truth about Kit Foley.