Maisie saw the man and woman standing back on the bridge first, then spotted the boys: Jonno hovering and Dave hanging on to Rave for dear life. She was out of the car before Fred had switched off the engine. Valerie was staring at the scene, clearly in terror.

‘Stay here,’ she heard herself say, and her daughter nodded.

Maisie and Fred ran onto the bridge together. Maisie was already crying. Rave was a trembling broken wreck. The sight of him took her breath away. She felt Fred’s arms around her, keeping her upright. She couldn’t think, she could only act.

‘Rave, Rave lovey, it’s Maisie.’

‘Maisie?’

Jonno stood back and she moved towards Rave. She was so close she could touch him. He was a bag of bones and wild looking.

‘Let me go, Dave.’

‘No fuckin’ way.’

‘I need to speak to Maisie alone.’ Rave started to struggle.

‘It’s OK, calm down. It’s all right, son, just relax,’ Fred said, and then he nodded at Dave. ‘Let him go. He’s staying here with us, aren’t ya, Rave?’

Rave nodded. Dave let go gently, moving off slowly to join Jonno. Fred stood back, leaving Maisie and Rave alone. Police and ambulance sirens rang out in the near distance.

‘Rave, lovey, what’s going on?’ Her voice shook. She hugged herself tightly, afraid that if she let go she’d turn into liquid. Her knees were knocking but somehow she remained upright.

‘I wrote you a letter. I posted it yesterday.’ He was staring straight ahead.

‘Why’s that, Rave?’ Oh God please no. Please, please no.

‘I wanted to say I’m sorry and I didn’t mean it. I really didn’t mean it.’

Rave was crying and Maisie was crying, too, because she knew her son was dead. She’d known he was dead the second she’d heard that Rave was alone on the bridge. ‘It’s OK, love,’ she said, but it wasn’t. A hot pain ripped right through her. Jeremy? Oh, my son, my heart, my soul, my sweet baby boy.

‘It’s not, though, Maisie. He’s gone.’

‘I know, lovey. I know he is.’ She was nodding, barely holding herself together.

‘I did it, Maisie. I killed him. I didn’t mean it.’

She wanted to scream and punch a wall. She wanted to roar and shout and blow the world apart but the child clinging to the bridge was not the focus of her rage. Even in that agonizing moment, she recognized the boy’s pain and helplessness, still loved him. How could she not? ‘Course you didn’t.’ She reached out and touched him, placing her hand on his bony arm.

‘But I pushed him – I pushed him off. One minute he was alive and the next he just wasn’t and I didn’t mean it.’