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Chapters (75)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
  3. About the Author
  4. Title Page
  5. Intoroduction
  6. ONE
  7. TWO
  8. THREE
  9. FOUR
  10. FIVE
  11. SIX
  12. SEVEN
  13. EITHT
  14. NINE
  15. TEN
  16. ELEVEN
  17. TWELVE
  18. THIRTEEN
  19. FOURTEEN
  20. FIFTEEN
  21. SIXTEEN
  22. SEVENTEEN
  23. EIGHTEEN
  24. NINETEEN
  25. TWENTY
  26. TWENTY-ONE
  27. TWENTY-TWO
  28. TWENTY-THREE
  29. TWENTY-FOUR
  30. TWENTY-FIVE
  31. TWENTY-SIX
  32. TWENTY-SEVEN
  33. TWENTY-EIGHT
  34. TWENTY-NINE
  35. THIRTY
  36. THIRTY-ONE
  37. THIRTY-TWO
  38. THIRTY-THREE
  39. THIRTY-FOUR
  40. THIRTY-FIVE
  41. THIRTY-SIX
  42. THIRTY-SEVEN
  43. THIRTY-EIGHT
  44. THIRTY-NINE
  45. FORTY
  46. FORTY-ONE
  47. FORTY-TWO
  48. FORTY-THREE
  49. FORTY-FOUR
  50. FORTY-FIVE
  51. FORTY-SIX
  52. FORTY-SEVEN
  53. FORTY-EIGHT
  54. FORTY-NINE
  55. FIFTY
  56. FIFTY-ONE
  57. FIFTY-TWO
  58. FIFTY-THREE
  59. FIFTY-FOUR
  60. FIFTY-FIVE
  61. FIFTY-SIX
  62. FIFTY-SEVEN
  63. FIFTY-EIGHT
  64. FIFTY-NINE
  65. SIXTY
  66. SIXTY-ONE
  67. SIXTY-TWO
  68. SIXTY-THREE
  69. SIXTY-FOUR
  70. SIXTY-FIVE
  71. SIXTY-SIX
  72. SIXTY-SEVEN
  73. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  74. CLIMATE EMERGENCY
  75. Copyright

The police station is cold – not just the air temperature, but the seats and the cramped reception area and the looks on the faces of the people who walk in and out as we sit in the foyer. It’s not really a foyer, just a few plastic chairs and a table covered in ripped magazines wedged into the small space in front of a glass screen. After a few minutes, an officer behind the screen tells us to come through the door. We’re taken through to an even colder, even smaller waiting room. The police officers’ faces behind their desk are cold as well. So is the tea in the vending machine.

Mum and I don’t speak while we sit in the cold chairs, drinking our cold tea, and when the officer from yesterday comes in and greets us it shakes us both from a kind of cold-induced stupor.

We’re taken through to another small, square room with greying tiles on every surface and a large sheet of one-way glass on the wall. The officer explains that the interview will be recorded and asks if I understand that I’m not under arrest or caution at this point, but if I want a lawyer I can have one.

I nod.

I tell the tape recorder what happened; that Jamie and I were mucking around on the way home and it got out of hand. And I say that it was very lucky that the woman driving the car was watching us so closely and that she stopped in time or it could have been much worse. I know that.

And I say about the cyclist not paying attention, and that he had his headphones in or was using his hands free to talk to someone or something. And that he didn’t brake before he hit Jamie’s leg, and that I think Jamie had been sitting in the road for about three seconds before he was hit, and that I might be wrong about the timings.

And the police officer says that the other reports they’ve had, including from the driver of the white BMW, all suggest the same, and that the cyclist was on the phone to his girlfriend while he was cycling along, and that he has now woken up in hospital and, despite a few nasty bruises, will probably be OK, and has said he was stupid for not wearing a helmet and that he hopes the driver of the red car doesn’t expect him to pay for the damaged lights.

The police officer finishes by repeating that this could have been a lot worse, and that we were all very lucky. She says lots of things about if the traffic wasn’t so slow, or if the cyclist wasn’t so lucky, or if Jamie and I hadn’t been so reckless – she uses that word a lot, reckless – then none of this would have happened.