Eventually she retreats to the corridor, pulling the door shut even though every cell in her body hates leaving Cooper alone in that empty room. Her throat is sore; she can taste copper. She grips his mother’s hands, trying to convey her utter grief and sorrow. His mum is just like him. His dad is short and overweight, with bloodshot eyes. There’s a cartoon bandaid on his thumb. Their sadness is so much worse than her own, and their pain merges with hers until she feels she might faint.

‘He was so excited to be working with you,’ his mother whispers into a tissue. ‘He was so happy.’

Oli forces herself to look into her eyes. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she chokes out. ‘He was very special. I was lucky to know him.’

Oli holds the toilet bowl as her stomach expels the last of the hot chocolate. She tunes into the hospital sounds. The rattle of metal implements shifting on a trolley as it rolls past. Female voices talking about a physio appointment. The swell of approaching sirens. Oli slumps sideways, tipping her head against the worn porcelain. How can Cooper be dead? The thought hovers around her, refusing to land. Shock continues to slice through her body, and she rolls back onto her knees, dry-retching into the toilet. Cooper’s face looms again, and her heaving turns to sobbing, sweat breaking out across her forehead.

Eventually she flushes the toilet and pulls the lid closed. She drops her head onto the surface and shuts her eyes, wishing everything would just go away.

But someone is calling her name. ‘Oli? Oli, are you in there?’

With a huge effort, she lifts her head and scans the tiny room. Her satchel lies on the floor under the basin. Her phone is a few centimetres further away on the tiles.

‘Oli?’

She staggers to her feet, her surrounds lurching like a sailboat on rough seas.

Rusty is standing outside the door, his face weighed down with worry. The tears come again. He doesn’t say anything, just pulls her close, his shoulder propping the door open. He’s taller than Dean, her head fitting into the curve of his chin. His shirt becomes wet against her face as his hand traces a comforting circle on her back. ‘Come on, let’s get you out of here.’

Oli stands in the doorway while he gathers her things. He pulls her satchel onto his shoulder and pats it. He looks ridiculous, and Oli tries to force a smile but it’s impossible. ‘What happened, Rusty?’ she whispers. ‘What happened to him?’

‘Not here.’ Rusty hustles her through the bright corridor, through the crowded waiting room and out into the night.