Oliver is going through the motions like he’s performed this a hundred times but the pallor of his face, his hesitation, tells me he hasn’t. Oliver gives a cursory check of Adam’s airway while Luis cuts open Adam’s T-shirt and begins chest compressions. Sofia runs to the trolley and picks up two paddles that look like irons and passes them to Luis.

‘Clear.’ He places them on Adam’s chest.

Adam’s body jerks.

‘Still in VF,’ shouts Sofia.

Oliver continues with chest compressions.

Adam’s eyes locked onto mine. His thumbs linking together, forming wings with his hands.

The machine continues its beep. Oliver and Sofia exchange a worried look.

‘Please.’ But I am not sure what I’m pleading for. For them to save the man I love, or let him go.

‘Clear,’ Luis shouts for the second time. Again, Adam’s body jerking.

‘Still in VF,’ Sofia says.

The bird he had rescued soaring high into the sky. ‘He’s happy now,’ Adam had said. ‘He’s free.’

Oliver places his hands back on Adam’s chest.

‘Let him go.’ My words are thick, my tongue too big for my mouth. My lips unwilling to move. But still I try again. ‘Oliver.’

Adam’s wishes are ever-present. Impossible to ignore. They whisper and roar like an orchestra, building to a crescendo, which forces me to acknowledge the cutting truth.

I have lost him.

Oliver meets my eye.

‘Stop,’ I say. ‘It’s time.’ Oliver’s face crumples in pain but he holds out a hand to Luis. ‘Wait.’

In three strides Oliver takes my hands. For a second I think he’s going to tell me he has to treat Adam. Has to bring him back even if there’s nothing to bring him back for other than a hospital bed and an inability to communicate. Is any life better than no life? Instead, he asks, ‘Are you sure, Anna?’

In truth, I’m not sure, but I know this is what Adam wants. What he was showing me as he stepped onto that yacht for a second time, knowing how it would all end.

Pain sinks its fangs sharply into my heart.

‘Yes,’ I say quietly.

The beeping stops. Machines are quickly pushed aside. Luis fetches a sheet and pulls it over Adam’s chest while Oliver checks his watch and scrawls on Adam’s notes and then the room empties.

Slowly, hesitantly, I approach the table.

‘Adam?’ I know he will not answer. He is not here. My only hope is that he is running free with Harry and Dug. That they will look after him. That he will look after them.

I touch his cheek. It’s losing its warmth.

I’ve heard it said that once you’ve passed, it looks like you are sleeping.

It doesn’t.

In sleep, Adam was always moving, fidgeting. Slinging his arm over his head, sticking his leg out from under the duvet.