If it all went wrong, if by some horrible chance I survived, I thought, I could always say it was an accident. It wouldn’t, after all, be the first time I’d pleaded accident for something that had been entirely deliberate. I had the scars to prove it.

It was four o’clock in the morning. I was alone in the canteen; nobody even knew where I was. I had the window pushed as far open as it would go. Three storeys below, the murky waters of the river Ouse rippled in the wind, dimly illuminated by the apartment block opposite. It would be a long way to fall, a long time to regret my decision. Not that I thought I would regret the decision. But suicide isn’t as easy as people make out. They call it the easy way out, but it takes real courage and strength to take your own life. I’d come close so many times, but never had the guts to go through with it.

Until that night.

Sitting on the window ledge with my legs dangling outside, I was sure this time I could really do it. It was the only way. I was ready to die. I wanted to die, though for one panicked moment, I couldn’t remember why. There was a dam of tears behind my eyes, but I was more afraid of shedding them than I was of dying. Death would be the relief I longed for, but crying would only make things worse.

A distant siren split the silent air like a knife. I jerked with fright, almost dislodging myself from my perch. A tiny scream escaped my throat, my heart beating as if it were trying to burst from my chest. I didn’t want it to be like that, some graceless fall, screaming all the way down. When I plunged to my death, it had to be deliberate – a dive into blessed oblivion.

Suddenly, the canteen was flooded with light. I froze, like the proverbial rabbit caught in the headlights, my knuckles white as I fiercely gripped the window frame.

‘What the hell…’

There was a frantic quality to Tony’s voice as he ran towards me. I half-turned my head to watch. I wanted to see his face when he realised what I’d been driven to.