I learn that Dad and Gram stayed with me at the hospital, never leaving my side, till I came round.

Fractured skull, two broken ribs, extensive bruising, cardiac arrest. That is, a heart attack.

I was dead when Boydy and Dad pulled me out of the water.

I was hit by the car, thrown into the water unconscious, drowned and suffered a heart attack.

(In case you’re wondering – and I know I would – I didn’t have a ‘near-death experience’ and see what was happening as I floated above the scene, or feel drawn towards a bright light, or any of that stuff. I don’t remember any of it.)

So I was pretty darn dead-as-a-doornail, brown-bread dead.

Now, though, I’m sitting up in bed.

Everything aches.

Gram and Dad stayed at the hospital until I ‘stabilised’, taking turns to stay by my bed or sleep in the room that the hospital has for relatives of accident victims.

Gram cries a lot. She looks twenty years older. She keeps saying, ‘I’m sorry, Boo. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.’

Dad says sorry a lot too, but he doesn’t cry. Instead he grips my hand – sometimes a bit too hard, but I don’t mind.

I think he’s saying sorry for running me over, which isn’t really his fault.

Gram is saying sorry for my whole life.

The nurses come and go.

The doctors shine lights into my eyes, and murmur to each other, and ask me things like, ‘What is your name?’ to check my brain is OK.

No one has mentioned invisibility.

Good.