My head is still hazy from sleep and I take deep breaths of the cold night air to try and clear it as my feet pound the pedals, and I lean forward as I approach the hill that leads to Green Fields. I was the last person to leave tonight. Did I lock everything up? I mentally run through my normal routine – check all the dogs are in their enclosures, ensure they’ve all got water for the night, lock the dog compound, do the same for the cats and the small animals, check on Freddy and the pigs, enter the main building through the back, lock the back door, do various checks, lock the front doors. Walk to the side entrance of the animal enclosure – the entrance the gardener and tradesmen use – and check that’s locked, too. A pulse of panic passes through me. Did I do that? Angharad was with me as I locked up. She was talking to me as we walked through reception, asking what my parents did for a living. I was trying to throw her off, giving her some half-baked reply about them being retired, and then she walked off to her car and I went to check the side entrance. Or did I? Did I hurry to my bike instead, keen to check my phone for the umpteenth time that day?

Something small and dark leaps across my path and I squeeze the brakes and jolt to a stop, nearly tipping over my handlebars. A tiny rabbit lollops across the road and disappears into the bushes on the right. The leaves rustle then fall still.

Shit.

I press a hand to my heart then put my feet to the pedals and start cycling again. It’s harder now I’ve restarted mid-way up the hill, and my thighs ache as the wheels revolve slowly and the bike creeps upwards. Just another five hundred metres or so and I’ll be there. I grip the handlebars and stand up, leaning my weight into the downward press. Will told me off for cycling like this. He says it’s a really inefficient way of getting up a hill. According to him, you should raise your saddle and stay seated. That’s fine for him to say; he’s got thighs like tree trunks, while mine—

My train of thought is interrupted by the distant rumble of a car engine. It’s coming from behind me, so I tuck my bike as far left as I can and keep cycling. My rear light is on but in my haste to leave home, I forgot to grab my high-visibility jacket or helmet. All I could think about was getting to Green Fields to check the animals are okay. The car driver should see me in good time; there are some tight bends up here, and if they’re local, they’ll slow down.