She watched, breathless, as Yvonne Youngs – a sergeant and the one in charge – fiddled with the key in the lock. Come on, come on, Connie whispered silently as the seconds ticked by. Then at last the policewoman was asking them to stand back as she pushed the door ajar.

The room was still in half-darkness. Devan was by the window, clutching Jared round the waist, one of his arms pulled tight around his neck. ‘Stay with me, Jared, stay with me …’ he was intoning to the semi-conscious, lolling head, as Jared’s feet dragged uselessly across the carpet.

Connie rushed over to help Devan, but Ben was quicker.

‘Let me, sir.’ The policeman tried to take Jared from Devan’s arms.

But Devan clung on, kept walking. ‘I’m OK,’ he insisted. ‘Take his other arm.’ He glanced round briefly at Sergeant Youngs. ‘Where’s the bloody ambulance?’ he demanded, before turning his attention back to Jared. ‘Come on! Wake up, Jared! For God’s sake, wake up.’

Yvonne made a call to chivvy the emergency services. Connie watched and waited, shivering, on the other side of the bed, while they continued to walk Jared’s dead weight slowly back and forth across the room, her nerves strung to breaking point as she listened out for the sound of the ambulance. It was probably only a matter of minutes before the green-uniformed paramedics clumped up the stairs and blasted, businesslike, into the crowded room, relieving Devan and Ben of their burden – although it seemed like a lifetime to her.

Devan had his arm around her shoulders as they stood in the corner of the crowded room watching the scene playing out in front of them. ‘He’s going to be OK, isn’t he?’ she whispered to him.

But the look he gave her was bleak. He didn’t answer.

‘Can’t find a pulse,’ she heard one of the paramedics mutter a moment later, as they prepared to bundle Jared onto the stretcher.

The next minutes passed in a blur for Connie. Nobody panicked. Nobody shouted. There was just a controlled frenzy around the body on the floor. Yvonne tried to make them leave the room, but neither she nor Devan would budge.

This is all my fault. Responsibility lay on her shoulders like a ten-ton weight. She thought back to that first fatal kiss. I should have stopped it right there, she thought. He was vulnerable … and I chose not to see it. She felt tears of exhaustion behind her eyes. If he dies, I will never forgive myself.

It could have been minutes or hours, but suddenly she realized the room had gone very still. Devan was pulling her into his arms. ‘I’m sorry, Connie,’ he said softly.