‘Yeah, some. A couple of endorsements, but they’re not enough. And the rest of the stuff coming through, he can’t commit to. Motivational speaking’s all well and good in theory but he couldn’t cope with the travel, or frankly the stress of not knowing whether he’s gonna wake up that day with his head feeling like it’s splitting open.’ Mia gave a soft, contemptuous snort. ‘His old sponsors even got back in touch, sounding out if he’d be up for doing some free-surfing work with them.’

‘Free-surfing?’ Clover was appalled. They might not be competing for money, points or titles but the barrels those surfers were dropping in on for films, shots and promos were no less risky. ‘But those guys are effectively stuntmen. The water they have to go in to get the shot—’

‘I know. And Cory knows it too. I think that’s what got him feeling so bad. It’s all just reminded him he can’t be part of that world at all, ever. Not in any form.’

‘Oh, Mia.’

‘The worst thing is, I reckon they already knew one more wipeout could kill him. It was just good . . . what do they call it? Good optics? With all the hype around the film at the moment, they didn’t want to look like they let him go without a backward glance.’

‘Which they bloody did!’ Clover said hotly. She knew that losing the patronage of his sponsors had hit Cory hard, a seal of confirmation that his old life and everything that came with it – fitness, strength, vitality, success – was gone.

‘Yeah. They signed off saying maybe he could do some guest appearances on the tour instead, perhaps some judging. I dunno, it’s all just bullshit.’ She gave a heavy, angry sigh. ‘He’s been in bed ever since.’

‘Oh god.’ Clover stared at the trophy, seeing only the crying face now. She understood now Mia’s hesitation at the beginning of their call. The fame that would attach to the film – and Cory – because of this latest high-profile win would produce even more off-beam suggestions that would only drive him deeper into depression. ‘Are the die-hards still keeping a vigil?’

The ripple-effect success of the film as it had won at Toronto and Venice film festivals had seen the Allbrights’ humble home become something of a pilgrimage site in recent months. Mia gave a weak laugh, the sort that precedes either mania or tears. ‘Oh Christ, it’s like a shrine out there. All those fucking candles. I swear to god I can’t sleep worrying they’re gonna burn the house down!’ She drew a breath. ‘I know they mean well. They’re just trying to show their love and support but it makes me feel so . . . mad! I just wanna scream at them, he’s not fucking dead! You know?’