Jim went home after that. I told him to go because I needed to think. Before he went, he wrote something down and gave it to me. I read it after he left.

It said: 'I believe that sometimes it's more important to feel than to think. We love each other. Don't forget that.'

I didn't forget it. I thought about it all the time. But I also remembered Lauren's words. And Jim's music. It was the worst time of my life.

Mum knew I was sad. 'Take a holiday from work, Sam,' she told me. 'Visit Ron in London.'

I thought it was a good idea. I always had fun with Ron. So I went.

But it's difficult to have fun with anyone when your world is in pieces. I was in London, not Norwich, but I still was thinking about Jim; I wasn't having fun at all. And I soon saw that Ron and his friend Mary were boyfriend and girlfriend now, not just friends.

Ron felt bad about Jim and me. He tried not to be too happy about Mary when I was there. He didn't want me to feel worse. But every time he looked at her, he smiled. And I understood. Of course I understood! Until a week ago it was the same for me. I felt happy every time I looked at Jim. But not anymore...

A few days later, when it was time for me to catch the train home, Ron took me to the station. We stood together on the station platform with hundreds of people hurrying to work around us.

Ron signed to me, 'Sam, I don't think of you as my deaf friend,' he said. I think of you as my kind, funny friend. I'm sure it's the same for Jim.'

'I'm so lucky to have you as my friend,' I told him.

We kissed and said goodbye, and then I got on the train. I wanted to believe Ron, but Lauren's words were always in my head: 'Jim wants to be with someone who can hear his music.'

I knew it was true.

When I got home Mum looked at me. She saw in my face that nothing was different. 'Send Jim a text message, Sam,' she said. 'Please. Speak to him. I hate to see you like this.'

'I can't,' I told her.

She looked at me for a long time. 'Do you know what I think?' she said. 'I don't think this is about Jim at all. I think it's about your father.'

I looked at her, but I didn't say anything. I wanted to know what she meant.

'I didn't want to tell you this,' she said, 'but now I think its best.'

Mum's face was sad, and I felt afraid.

'What is it?' I asked.