‘I don’t have any qualifications. I failed my exams. This is the best it gets for me.’

‘Do you own your house?’

‘Totally and utterly. My parents paid the mortgage off a few years before they died and business has been better in the last couple of years, since cycling became a super trendy thing to do.’

‘So sell it all and go. Just start again where no one knows you. That’s what I would do. That’s what I did do.’

‘And you’re happy?’

‘Now there’s a question. I know one thing though. Getting away from here was the best thing I ever did,’ I say, and although I don’t regret leaving for a second, I realise I never really got away. A part of me will always remain here; coming back made me see I could never escape completely. I hope things will be different for Jason though; he doesn’t have the same demons that I have.

‘Where would I go? What would I do?’

‘Well, I don’t know the answer to that, but cycling is something that people do all over the world. I remember seeing a documentary about a town in Wisconsin that is one of the most bike-friendly places on earth. My husband is into biking, too, so we watch things like that. I think it was called Madison. I bet you could go there.’

‘I don’t know about that.’

‘What is keeping you here, Jason? What exactly are you doing here? Sell your stuff and get out. A handsome young English man in America – I bet you would do great over there. Just think about it,’ I say, knowing that he has no intention of doing so. This place has its hooks in him; he will never get away. At least I tried, at least I planted the seed.

I pull out my phone and look for a real estate agent in Madison.

‘You really think that’s possible?’

‘Look at this. I don’t know the city at all but this house is two hundred thousand; I bet your place is worth much more than that – there isn’t much around here that isn’t. Sell the business too and you’ll have enough to plonk yourself there instead of here and you have a brand new life ready to go. The great lakes are there too. It would be amazing.’

I show him my phone, displaying a colonial-looking, grey, two-bedroom house with one of those porch verandas with a swing seat that always make me so jealous.

He laughs and a big smile breaks out across his face. He actually needed someone to point out to him that he deserved more than this existence of getting high on his own in the back of an empty bike shop.

‘Are you really here?’

‘What do you mean?’