‘Well what?’

‘You’re not going to say anything?’

Bob Nicholls lifted his head slowly from his pillow. ‘What do you want me to say?’

Ed and his dad gazed at each other.

‘You want me to say you’ve been an idiot? I’ll say you’ve been an idiot. You want me to say you’ve ballsed up a brilliant career? I’ll say that too.’

‘Bob …’

‘Well, what do you –’ Abruptly, he started to cough, a hollow, rasping sound. Anne and Gemma lurched forward to help him, handing over tissues, glasses of water, fussing and clucking like a pair of hens. It was as if everyone was grateful for being given something to do.

Ed was standing at the foot of his father’s bed.

‘Prison?’ his mother said again. ‘Actual prison prison?’

‘That’s what he said, Mum.’

‘But this is awful.’

‘Sit down, Mum. Deep breaths.’ Gemma steered her mother into a chair.

Nobody moved towards Ed. Why didn’t somebody hug him? Why could they not see how alone he felt right at that minute?

‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly.

Nobody seemed to hear.

‘Can I say something?’ Jess could bear it no longer. She heard her voice, clear and slightly too loud. ‘I just want to tell you that Ed helped my two children when I couldn’t. He drove us the length of the country, because we were desperate. As far as I’m concerned your son is … wonderful.’

They all looked up. Jess turned to his father. ‘He’s kind, smart and clever, even if I don’t agree with all the things he does. He’s nice to people he barely knows. Insider trading or no, if my son turns out half the man your son is then I’ll be very happy. More than happy. I’ll be ecstatic.’

They were all staring at her.

She added: ‘And I thought that even before I had sex with him.’

Nobody spoke. Ed stared fixedly at his feet.

‘Well,’ Anne gave a faint nod, ‘that’s, er, that’s …’

‘Enlightening,’ said Gemma.

Anne’s voice tailed away. ‘Oh, Edward.’

Bob sighed and closed his eyes. ‘Let’s not get all Hollywood about this.’ He opened them again and signalled for the head of the bed to be raised a little. ‘Come here, Ed. Where I can see you. Wretched eyesight.’ He motioned for the glass again and his wife held it to his lips.

He swallowed painfully, then tapped the side of his bed, so that Ed sat down on it. He reached out a hand and rested it lightly on his son’s. He was unbearably frail. ‘You’re my son, Ed. You might be idiotic and irresponsible, but it doesn’t make the slightest difference to what I feel about you.’ He frowned. ‘I’m pissed off that you could have thought it would.’

‘I’m sorry, Dad.’

His father gave a slow shake of his head. ‘I’m afraid I can’t be much help. Stupid breathless …’ he pulled a face, then swallowed painfully. His hand tightened around Ed’s. ‘We all make mistakes. Go and take your punishment, then come back and start again.’

Ed looked up at him. And Jess saw the boy he must have been: hurt, desperate for his father’s approval. And determined never to let that show.

‘Do even better next time. I know you can.’

It was at that point that Anne started to cry, abrupt, helpless tears that she buried in her sleeve. Bob turned his head slowly towards her. ‘Oh, darling,’ he said softly. And that was where Jess acknowledged that she had finally become an intruder. She opened the door silently and slid out.

She put some credit on her phone in the hospital shop, texted Ed to say where she was, and waited in A&E to get her foot looked at. Badly bruised, said a young Polish doctor, who didn’t bat an eyelid when she told him how she had done it. He strapped it up, wrote a prescription for strong painkillers, handed her back her flip-flop, and advised her to rest. ‘Try not to kick any more cars,’ he said, without looking up from his clipboard.

Jess hobbled back upstairs to Victoria Ward, sat on one of the plastic chairs in the corridor, and waited. It was warm and the people around her spoke in whispers. She may have nodded off briefly. She woke abruptly when Ed emerged from the room. She held out his jacket and he took it without a word. A moment later Gemma appeared in the corridor. They stood facing each other silently. His sister put her hand gently to the side of his face. ‘You bloody idiot.’

His head dipped, hands shoved deep in his pockets, like Nicky.

‘You stupid bloody stupid idiot. Call me.’

He pulled back. His eyes were red-rimmed.

‘I mean it. I’ll come with you to court. I might know some people in probation who could help get you into an open prison. I mean, you’re not going to be category A, as long as you haven’t done anything else.’ Her eyes flickered towards Jess and back to him. ‘You haven’t done anything else, right?’

He leant forward and hugged her, and maybe it was only Jess who noticed the way his eyes closed really tightly when he pulled away.

They emerged from the hospital into the luminous white of a spring day. Real life, inexplicably, seemed to have continued regardless. Cars reversed into too-small spaces, buggies were disgorged from buses, a workman’s radio blared as he painted a nearby railing. Jess found herself taking deep breaths, grateful to be away from the stale, medical air of the ward, the almost tangible spectre of death that hung over Ed’s father. Ed walked and looked straight ahead. He reminded her, briefly, of Nicky before they had come here, when all his energies seemed to be focused on showing nothing, feeling nothing. They crossed the car park until they reached his car and he paused. The doors unlocked with an audible clunk. Then he stopped. It was as if he couldn’t move. He just stood there, one arm slightly outstretched, staring blankly at his car.