She came into the flat and dropped her crash helmet on the side, handing Tilly a wrapped bottle before noticing me.

‘Hi Rachel,’ I said. ‘Good Christmas?’

She half-smiled, her hand moving towards her lips. She had a habit of concealing her mouth when she spoke, like she was ashamed of her teeth, not that I could see anything wrong with them. ‘Pretty boring, actually. Mostly sitting around listening to my mum and dad bickering. Parents, they’re such—’

She went pink as she realised what she’d said. ‘Oh God, I’m so sorry.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Tilly said and I smiled in agreement.

Rachel looked at my bag. I was going home by train. I wouldn’t drive on motorways. I didn’t really like driving at all and avoided it wherever necessary.

‘Do you need a lift to the station?’ she asked.

‘What? On your bike?’

Behind me, Tilly made clucking noises. ‘You’re such a chicken.’

‘I’ll need a helmet,’ I said and Rachel smiled behind her hand. ‘There’s one here. I got it when I took Tilly out for a ride.’

‘It was awesome,’ said Tilly, grinning at my surprised expression.

‘I guess I’ve got no excuse then. Actually, I’ve always wanted to ride a Harley.’

I bent to kiss Tilly’s cheek and said goodbye.

‘Relax, Andrew,’ she said. ‘I think you’ll enjoy it.’ She waved me goodbye. ‘Good luck finding work. You can always come and stay here if you can’t pay your mortgage.’

‘Thanks, sis.’

I straddled the monstrous Harley, all gleaming silver chrome and black rubber, and held on to the sides of the seat. The bike accelerated away without warning and for a moment I thought I was going to fly off the back, so was forced to cling on to Rachel as she roared through the traffic, heading into town, breaking every speed limit like the rules were designed for other, mere mortals. My heart was in my mouth, my mouth was dry, but it was exhilarating and strangely sexy, even if it was Rachel I was holding on to. I imagined what Charlie would look like wearing the leather outfit Rachel had on; pictured us racing along American highways with Charlie’s arms wrapped tight around me, the wind whipping her hair . . .

‘What did you think?’ Rachel said, flipping up her visor as I disembarked outside the station.

I was still shaking off the images off Charlie in black leather. ‘Yeah, it was fun. In a terrifying way.’

‘You can’t beat it,’ Rachel said. ‘When we all go out riding together, it’s the best feeling in the world.’

‘All?’

‘Yeah, I mean me and the rest of the chapter.’

I recognised the terminology. ‘You’re a Hells Angel?’

‘No, we’re not Angels. Not proper ones, anyway. It’s just a motorcycle club – we call it “the chapter” as a kind of joke.’