It was all quiet.

He slid down the ladder and crept along the landing to the window at the end. It led out onto a small flat roof. The street looked empty. He opened the window and crawled out, keeping low, keeping small.

He had a pretty good view of the street from here. He looked to left and right. There was no movement at all. No wind in the trees, no birds flying, no animals moving about.

No grown-ups.

He climbed down off the roof.

It was then that he saw the bicycle. Leaning against a row of trash cans in the front garden. It looked undamaged. He knelt down and checked it out. The chain was still in one piece, but the tires were nearly flat.

There was just enough air in them, though, to be able to ride it. It would get him as far as Waitrose at least.

He pushed it out of the garden and into the road. There was still nobody around. He climbed onto the seat and started to pedal. It was hard work. The bike seemed to be stuck in a high gear. It was moving, though. He pedaled harder, building up speed. The bike creaked and groaned and complained, but he kept at it, wobbling along like he was drunk.

He’d been confused last night, but finding the bike had given him fresh confidence. All he had to do was follow the road signs to Holloway and he’d be all right.

He turned left into the Seven Sisters Road and cycled on. The squashy tires made the bike unsteady and difficult to steer, but he was still going much faster than he would be if he was walking.

For the first time in twenty-four hours he smiled. It was a sunny day. The streets were clear, he was zooming along on his new bike. Well, not quite zooming. More wobbling, perhaps. But it didn’t matter. He was going home.

Once again he imagined the look of amazement on the faces of his friends.

“A bike, Sam? You found a bike!”

“Well done—you’re the coolest.”

“King of the streets!”

Then he heard footsteps behind him.

He looked back. There was a grown-up following him. A lone father. Loping along on stiff legs, panting with the effort. As Sam watched, another grown-up joined him, a mother this time, her hair tied up in a big untidy knot on top of her head.

Then another and another. They were coming out of the streets on either side. Sam had to keep glancing back and then looking ahead to make sure he didn’t hit something. There were cars abandoned all over the roads, and you had to be careful or you would crash into one.

More and more grown-ups were pouring into the road, half running, half walking. Sam skidded around a van and saw two ugly fathers coming at him from the front, one on either side, in a pincer movement. He sped up even more and just managed to squeeze between them as they made a lunge for him. He careened all over the road, out of control, then stood up on the pedals and pumped them as hard as he could. It was about as fast as the bike would go on these junk tires, and he was scared it wasn’t fast enough.