Before I call Josh, I plan my side of the conversation in my head. I won’t need to sugar-coat Adam’s prognosis the way I had to with Mum, but it will hit him hard. The first few times I’d met Josh I hadn’t understood why he and Adam were friends; they were polar opposites. Adam quiet and sensitive, Josh loud and raucous. I assumed it was their shared history that bound them together. On Adam’s side, gratitude that Josh’s parents had taken him in. For Josh, a friend that paled into the background, allowing him to take centre stage.

I was wrong.

They genuinely enjoy each other’s company. Enjoy their differences. They’re like brothers and it pains me that I have to be the one to break the bad news. I press dial and when the call connects, I say, ‘Josh. Is this a good time to—’

‘What’s wrong with Adam?’ He knows I wouldn’t be ringing him from Alircia otherwise.

‘He’s in a coma.’ I get straight to the point. ‘There was an accident.’ I tell him about the yacht. Sometimes he cuts in and asks questions but mostly he just listens while I let it all pour out.

‘Stupid twat always has to be the hero,’ Josh says after I’ve finished. Tears thickening his words. ‘I’ll book a flight.’

‘Thanks. But there’s really nothing you can do here right now.’

‘There must be some way that I can help?’

I pause. Josh will need something practical to occupy him or he’ll be jumping on a plane, whatever I say.

‘If you can carry on looking after Hammie, please, that would be great? And you could also keep an eye on the house. Make sure there isn’t any post sticking out of the letterbox. Water the plants.’

‘Yeah, I can do that. Is… is he getting the right care over there? Wouldn’t you be better off in the UK?’

‘We’ll be back at some stage, but there’s nothing anyone can do to wake Adam up.’

‘But he could just wake up, couldn’t he?’ Josh sounds like a small boy.

A 3 per cent chance of recovery.

‘Of course.’ I am the adult. I am good at pretending. ‘At any time.’

‘And then he’ll be fucking unbearable. You know how he gets when he has a cold. Going on about it weeks later. We’ll never hear the end of a coma.’

I smile. ‘You’re right. He’s never great when he’s sick. A few months back I had tonsillitis and felt terrible. I took myself off to bed. Adam came in and laid down next to me. Said he’d sneezed and was worried he’d was getting the flu. Asked me what was for dinner.’