Directly below, bare trees rose up towards him, yet even they were out of reach.

Last night’s escape became clear. The concrete path snaked away into the high grass before meeting the weir. Various little trails ran up the scrubby slope to the supermarket car park. If that way had been blocked for Tony by a bunch of kids intent on belting him with something, the only way home would have been back up the road and across this bridge.

Picking off poofters in the park.

James went to cross the road, almost not seeing the car approaching from town. As its driver sounded the horn, he backed against the gutter and gave an apologetic wave.

The view from the other side of the road bridge was wilder. Here, the crumbling timbers of the railway viaduct blocked out most of the forested riverbanks below, leaving a gap just a few metres wide between both bridges. The old station showed back towards the main street, screened by saplings that had pushed up through the rails and sleepers. More trees were growing further down, right against the massive struts that held up the track. Directly below, James spied the reed bed where Tony had been found.

It would take an immense amount of courage to leap voluntarily, but if you jumped out of fear, in the dark, perhaps while being pursued, that would be a different matter. If you were thrown into the darkness and no passing vehicle was there to notice, you’d simply disappear.

James churned the possibilities over all the way to the motel car park, trying for the outward, confident air of someone returning from a brisk morning walk. His unnecessary show was rather undone when he was momentarily confused by two sets of keys.

Inside, he tore off his muddy shoes and ignored signs of his takeaway dinner and strangled the shower into life. Catching himself naked in the mirror, James gave a laugh that was more like a snort. He and Dylan should get back to the gym, but they only ever talked about it. Before long, one of them would renege and the other would follow.

Once he was dry, he checked his phone for calls from his father in case he’d missed one under the noise of the water, but there was nothing.

Of his desperate escape from the night before, there was little trace, just a hairline scratch on his neck, probably from a branch, and the red patches of the stinging nettles above the line of his socks. His muddy jeans and shoes were swapped for the casual suit he’d packed for Tony’s funeral. He also deleted the desperate text he’d sent himself.