‘We don’t know, but we’re doing our best,’ the nurse says simply. ‘It’s a good job she collapsed before she could jump. There would have been no coming back from that.’ The nurse moves to lay a hand on her arm. Nevis shifts just out of reach and the nurse makes no attempt to touch her again, instead in a soft kind voice, asking, ‘Would you like me to call someone?’

I should call Honor myself, Nevis thinks, instead of allowing a nurse to do it. But she feels helpless and almost paralysed, completely lost for words. Tapping the passcode into her phone, she blinks at the blizzard of notifications and missed calls from Honor, then passes the device to the woman beside her. She has become like an infant, floppy and unable to make a coherent decision. The nurse initiates the call and speaks for a few moments. Nevis doesn’t listen. Finally, the nurse cuts the call, and, patting her hand, in a cosy, woolly voice, says, ‘Your mum says she’ll be here soon.’

She wants to say Honor isn’t her real mum but she doesn’t know how to explain. And now would probably not be the time. The nurse is still asking questions, this time about whether Nevis has a contact number for Satnam’s parents. Does she know the names of Satnam’s parents? Yes, yes, at least she does know that. Bikram and Narinder.

‘Do you have a number for them?’

She checks in her pocket, pulls out Satnam’s phone. Sondra said she should take it in the ambulance. ‘Oh, but I don’t know the passcode.’

‘Don’t worry, we can find the number.’

‘Wait.’ She remembers now. ‘I do have it.’ Dropping Satnam’s phone in her backpack she reaches for her own. Satnam’s mother Narinder had given her their home number last year when they were on better terms, before Narinder found out about Luke. She reads the screen, memorising the integers as she goes.

The nurse promises to place the call and turns away. For the first time since getting into the taxi what seems like a lifetime ago, Nevis finds herself alone, her mind emptied of everything but Satnam.

Not long afterwards Sondra arrives in the company of a policewoman, who tells Nevis they’ve taken Satnam up to the ICU.

‘A quick word?’ the officer says to her, in a tone that suggests it’s not really a question. Sondra shoots Nevis an encouraging look.

It’s difficult, especially now, for Nevis to do much talking. Part of her is still standing in the thick, reflected light from the bridge’s lamps, watching the figure pressed against the barrier, hands clinging to the wires. Another part is with Satnam in the ICU. There’s not much left for speaking. Besides, hasn’t she already said everything? What else is there to talk about?