The dark place he’d been in for four years is set to get a whole lot darker, and just when he was showing some signs of hope again. Just when he had found a nice girl, just when he was making plans for next summer with his family, along I come and mention the one name that he couldn’t cope with hearing. And now he’s lying on an operating table fighting for his life.

I burst out crying and Martin, whoever the hell he is, puts his arm around me and pats my back like I’m a baby.

‘It’s my fault,’ I sniffle, conscious that I’m set to ruin his very expensive woollen coat. ‘I don’t know why but he stormed off on me without giving me any explanation. Why didn’t I just get on with things instead of going home to cause trouble? I’m always causing trouble, it seems. It’s all my stupid fault.’

Martin continues to hush me. I may have no idea who he is but I’m glad of the comfort. For a moment I pretend he is Tom who would hold me even tighter and make me feel so safe if he were here now. Why is life so bloody complicated and unfair?

I hear Emily and Kevin whisper in hushed voices as they make their way back towards us, so I pull away from Martin to greet them. They’ve only been gone less than half an hour but it feels like forever, and I’m so glad to see my big sister who links her husband as they walk towards us.

‘This is Martin,’ I say to them both. ‘Martin, this is my sister Emily and her husband, Kevin. Martin is—’

I stop, realizing of course that I’ve no idea who Martin is, only that he has a nice coat, gives good hugs and smells like a fresh Christmas in a mix of oranges and cloves.

‘I’m a friend of Matthew’s,’ says Martin, extending a hand in a firm shake that almost takes my sister’s arm out of her socket. She’s white as a ghost with worry and has barely spoken since she got here. None of us have spoken much, come to think of it, apart from hurried whispers of the type normally saved for wakes or in the pews of the church. ‘Angela from the bar rang me to tell me what happened and I came straight here.’

‘You’re a good friend,’ says Emily, clasping Martin’s hand with both of hers. ‘Thanks for coming along to support us.’

Martin looks at us in confusion. He’s probably just as distraught as we are.