Yuni said this in such a flippant way, wrinkling up her nose, that it confused me. It didn’t add up. After a moment, it dawned on me.

It wasn’t Kazune who was unwell. It was Yuni. I had jumped to conclusions.

‘Kazune is so angry about me getting sick.’ She inclined her head a little, and then rephrased her words. ‘She’s not angry at me, but at the illness. She’s angry that it made me unable to play, and now she can’t either.’

I took a moment to digest the new situation. Then:

‘What about you, Yuni … Aren’t you angry?’

She seemed to be considering this. ‘I am angry.’

‘Mmm,’ I said, in what I hoped to be a reassuring way.

Of course she was. But she must be confused, too, not knowing where to direct her anger.

‘Kazune has to play even more, to make up for me not being able to. And yet …’ She was unable to complete the thought, stood there with her mouth open, taking rapid and shallow breaths as if struggling to draw air into her lungs. In the same instant her dark eyes started to well with tears.

I wanted to reach out to her but my arms felt glued to my sides. I wanted to touch her, reassure her it was going to be all right. It’ll be OK, I wanted to tell her. But there was nothing OK about it.

Before the tears could spill down her cheeks, she wiped them away with the back of her hand. Go ahead and cry, I thought, but I confess to feeling a little relieved, too, that I didn’t have to watch the flow of her tears.

Someone cleared his throat nearby, and I turned to see Mr Akino strolling past, tuning case in hand. We must make an interesting little picture, I thought. A sixth-form girl in tears and a total dunce frozen awkwardly to the spot.

Yuni stood still for a time, head down, but when she looked up the tears had stopped. Her eyes and nose were red. A single strand of her soft brown hair lay plastered from forehead to cheek.

‘I’m sorry. Thank you so much for listening.’ She bobbed her head, then turned away from me, peeling the hair from her face, and headed for the door.

I didn’t know what to do. I was still on duty. But even if I had work scheduled, I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t talk more with her – right here, right now.

I ran after Yuni and caught up with her along the pavement, lightly grabbing the sleeve of her school uniform. ‘I’ll walk you home.’