They turned in towards the hospital car park. Some idiot in a blue BMW was blocking the entrance. Jamie thumped the horn, leant on it, gestured angrily at the other driver. After an agonising wait for the BMW to pull out of the way, with hostile looks exchanged between the two drivers, Jamie shot into the car park, straight into an empty space.

They ran into the hospital. Through reception – Kirsty waving quickly to the girl on the front desk – dodging a porter with a laden trolley, up the stairs, down another corridor to Paul’s room. Puffing, they entered the room. Jamie had half-expected to see Paul sitting up in bed, drinking a cup of tea, saying, ‘Where am I? What happened?’, but he was still lying in the same position, the same bip-bip-bip providing the rhythm to this drama’s soundtrack.

Paul’s parents and Heather stood close to the bed, looking down at Paul, who was being examined by Doctor Meer. Heather turned round.

‘He said my name,’ she said.

Her cheeks were shiny and smeared with mascara where she had been crying. She was wearing her nurse’s uniform. ‘I was sitting here, talking to him, just talking away as usual, telling him about my day, when he suddenly spoke. He said my name!’ She grabbed Kirsty’s hands. She was shaking with excitement. ‘He said “Heather”. And at first I thought I’d imagined it, that it was wish-fulfillment, but then he said it again. So I rushed off and grabbed Doctor Meer.’

‘And has he said anything else?’ asked Jamie.

‘No. But Doctor Meer says he’s coming out of the deep coma. He says that Paul is now merely unconscious and that he could wake up any minute.’

‘Or he could slip back,’ said Paul’s dad. Reacting to their shocked looks, he said, ‘Somebody has to be cautious here. It might be a false–’

‘I think he’s waking up,’ said Doctor Meer from his position beside Paul’s pillow.

They stopped and stared. Paul looked like a man who’s been out on the most incredible drinking binge of all time and had passed out… had been passed out for a long time. His skin was colourless, there was a trail of saliva emerging from the side of his mouth. But as they watched, his eyelids flickered and, a second later, opened. His mother gasped and they all inched closer to the bed, like pilgrims moving tentatively towards a miracle. Doctor Meer had to stretch out his arms to prevent them getting too close. Jamie’s mouth went dry. Kirsty gripped his hand hard.

Paul focused his vision, looked at them, opened his mouth. He croaked and licked his lips.

‘I feel…’ he whispered.

They leaned closer.

‘…like shit.’