‘You’re here!’ Pryia shouts, when I walk into the staffroom on Monday morning.

‘Err, yeah. No need for the cheerleading squad, Pryia!’ I joke, not really expecting such enthusiasm this early in the morning. I finish my text to Callie and put my phone away. I shamelessly had to namedrop Nonno and tell her what happened, but it worked, she rang me straightaway and then turned up at the hospital. Mum and I haven’t been into work for a few days, because of Nonno. Between Mum and me and Callie’s visits, he’s been kept busy.

‘Kofi’s asking for you,’ she says. She’s still pretty loud.

‘I’ll be there in a minute, let me just…’ I turn to pick up a purple bucket of instruments. Pryia grabs my shoulders and spins me round. I drop the bucket.

‘There’s no time. You’ve got to come now.’ I see the panic in her eyes.

‘Why?’ I ask but I don’t need to. I hear it in her voice.

‘He was taken into ICU over the weekend,’ she replies, and simply takes my hand and holds it in hers. ‘Hope? Are you okay?’ Pryia asks. She sounds like an echo, as if she’s said my name a few times but I’m only just hearing it.

‘Let’s go.’ I let her lead me past Kofi’s room, up the stairs towards ICU. I force myself to read the sign. It’s black and white. Not yellow. This isn’t Dad. This is someone else. I stand outside the door. I push it open and the door handle clashes with the wall. I walk into the room. I keep talking to myself in my head: I can do this.

‘Kofi!’ I say it loudly, so I can’t hear the beeping. My voice doesn’t sound like me but at least there’s sound. He’s in what looks like a cot. It’s a bed but with rails. He is lying very flat on his back. I can only really see his face. He has tubes coming out of his nose and something over his mouth that must be oxygen. His mum sits on a chair next to his bed. She looks smaller, shrunken. There are nurses everywhere but it’s really quiet. Everyone’s whispering and walking softly, trying hard not to make any noise. His eyes are closed but his chest is moving up and down. I watch it for several seconds until Pryia’s words filter through.

‘Mrs Agard has asked us to come and sing to Kofi,’ she explains unnecessarily to the nurses. They nod. Kofi’s mum doesn’t even look up at us, her eyes are on Kofi the whole time.

I start singing, keeping my eyes on the rise and fall of Kofi’s chest. And Kofi breathes on and on with the help of a ventilator which

Clicks and whirs

Clicks and whirs

Clicks and whirs.

Mum’s waiting for me in the staffroom at the end of the day. I cry without holding back. I don’t really notice who else is in there. She wraps her arms around me until I’m able to talk.

‘He looks too small in the bed,’ I say into her shoulder. She doesn’t reply. ‘And his mum has shrunk, she’s lost so much weight. All I can do is stand there and sing stupid songs.’ I pull back to look at her.

‘They aren’t stupid. They mean something to you and Kofi. You’ve built up a bond. Believe it or not, you’re helping him and his mum,’ she tries to reassure me. ‘That’s all you can do right now.’ She’s right, but somehow it doesn’t feel enough. Today it doesn’t feel anywhere near enough.

‘Here.’ She hands me my mobile, which I thought I’d left in my locker, but I’m too shocked to take it. It falls to the floor.

‘Don’t smash the screen! I’ve only just got it repaired. Had to sneak it out of your locker at lunchtime,’ she tells me, trying to smile.

‘Why?’

‘Because if I can’t trust you, who can I trust? You didn’t feel you could tell me about this Riley boy, you couldn’t confide in me, and that means something has gone wrong. I should have told you about Nonno’s heart problems and his crazy cholesterol levels. You’re right, I should have talked to you. You’re not a baby anymore,’ she admits.

‘Even if I act like one?’

‘Even then,’ she says, brushing my hair out of my face.

‘If we’re doing the whole full-disclosure thing, there’s something I’d better tell you.’

‘Worse than that you’ve got a secret Irish boyfriend who you’ve been sneakily messaging?’ She tries to say it lightly, but it sounds loaded. I can hear how much its cost her to try and make a joke out of the secrets I’ve been keeping, which makes what I’m about to tell her even worse.

‘Yes. There’s something worse than having a secret boyfriend, not that he’s my boyfriend but…’ I’m getting confused. ‘I’d better tell you that we’ve been on the phone talking for most of the weekend.’ She doesn’t say anything so I carry on. ‘But I didn’t just bump into him on the ferry, Mum, that’s not how it happened, I…’

Mum stands up and holds out her hand to me. ‘Let’s get out of here.’