Two years had passed since he sat behind the wheel of a car, and more than once his numb fingers fumbled with the gearstick. Not that he was overly keen to shift above second. The frost glittering in the headlights was cause enough to take it slow. There were few others on the road at that hour. Owl-eyed delivery drivers and factory workers on the wrong side of a twelve-hour shift. Ben offered due sympathy and respect to both.

Cold mornings were the worst. They chilled more than the bones. They iced over the soul and all its unspoken optimism. He was already doubting if it was all worth it. This was the big break he had been waiting for and the morning was trying to sour it for him. It didn’t matter. There was no turning back now. Contracts had been signed. The equipment was bought. And he had already told his parents. They deserved more than the usual disappointment.

Chloe was where she said she would be, bundled up in her parka jacket, waiting at the bus stop outside her estate. The streetlights were losing their colour like rotting oranges. She waved as he pulled the car up beside her. There wasn’t another person that Ben could see beneath the wakening sky, just rows of lightless homes, their curtains closed, and the dead sound of a town before the dawn. So quiet, even the birds were still rehearsing uncertain verses.

Ben couldn’t afford to botch this job. But he tried not to think about it. Whatever worries travelled with them that day, they could keep their opinions to themselves. And if they didn’t, he’d turn on the radio full blast and drown them out. This was what he wanted. This was the kind of assignment he was actually good at. But even still, looking forward, the horizon was fogged with a cold uncertainty.

‘It’ll be fine,’ he whispered, clicking off his seatbelt, trying to convince himself that not every scene in his life played out like a Shakespearean fucking tragedy.

Ice cracked and fell like flaky paint when he opened the door to help Chloe with her rucksack. Everything was sharp and brittle, and sticky to the touch. The bag was almost as big as she was. It just about fit inside the boot beside his own after all their straps were tucked in place like limp arms.

Good mornings were exchanged – the ironic, deadpan sort that suggested the contrary.

Ben’s phone was slotted into its crooked stand above the radio. He tapped it once to check the time. Daybreak wasn’t far away. But given how quiet the roads were, they might even make it to the motorway before then.

‘Who’s the kid?’ Chloe asked, holding her hands over the fan heater.