Jamie barely spoke to Paul when it was his turn to sit beside him. He didn’t tell stories or jokes or play music. He merely sat and watched. He didn’t believe that his friend needed chatter and prompts; no-one could pull him back to the surface with songs or football commentary. He believed that Paul needed to rest – he was sleeping off the results of the accident like a bad hangover. Jamie and Paul used to joke that after a night on the beer, Paul would slip into a coma, and that nothing could wake him but time. Of course, Jamie knew that this coma had nothing to do with alcohol or over-indulgence, but something told him that the same principle applied. All they had to do was wait.

‘He’s suffered a serious head injury,’ said the doctor at Bromley Hospital, where the ambulance had taken Paul after the accident. ‘It’s very difficult to say at this point what the long-term outcome will be.’

After a day, Paul fell into a coma. The doctor told them that he might never come out of that coma, and if he did he might be brain damaged. He might not be able to talk. He might have lost the use of his limbs. On the other hand, he could make a full recovery, although it would not be quick. He could spend months or years in therapy.

‘All we can do,’ said the doctor, ‘is wait and hope. And pray, if you’re that way inclined.’

‘So there’s a possibility that he might never wake up?’ said Heather. She was trying to maintain her professional nurse’s stoicism, but was not succeeding. Her voice cracked as she spoke. Jamie’s parents had shuffled off to get coffee from the machine down the corridor.

The doctor spoke softly. ‘There is that chance, yes. He might slip into a vegetative state, in which case the family would have to make a decision. Or the coma could continue for a long time. If at any point his brain stopped functioning completely – if it died, in effect – we could keep him alive with machines, but as you know…well, is that really living?’

Heather, Kirsty and Jamie looked at each other. Heather started to cry, and Kirsty put her arms around her. Jamie stood there, wishing he was somewhere else, wishing life was like TiVo: that he could press rewind to change history, or even fast forward to find out what would happen.

He could still see the look of joy and cocky assuredness on Paul’s face when he first climbed into the go-kart. And then he saw Chris, standing on the other side of the track, not catching anyone’s eye.