I’d felt the surge of blood in my veins. My heart beating too fast. My brain fizzing with the onslaught of the adrenaline coursing through me. It was a risk, but I didn’t stop to think. I turned hard, gripping tight, as the back of the bike lifted off the ground and swung out fast. Michael wasn’t expecting it; he’d just got over the previous skid. The bike flipped, with me still attached and Michael not. I landed hard, the engine still running, the wheels whining, and I felt the shift in weight as he lost his grip and flew into the air, landing with a hard crack on the rocks that lined the side of the road. I let go of the handlebars and the bike pinwheeled away from me. People came running, shouting, from all directions. But I’d heard Michael’s skull crack open like an egg. Remember – it’s the driver who wears the helmet.

A terrible accident.

I was treated in the hospital for shock, but by the time his parents came to collect the body, I was long gone. Luckily, for me, they didn’t even know he had a girlfriend. Luckily for me, I was able to blend in, slip away, and before long, I’d met someone else.

The phone on the centre console rings again, and I snap back to the present. The car is weaving in and out of traffic, and he ignores it. I still can’t remember his name, but I see his ID badge, partially obscured by the ringing phone. He works at a bank. I turn away, facing out of the window, remembering now – the pub, the rough men … my saviour. I’d joked that I needed a loan. He’d joked that he would look after me.

Finally, I start to recognise the streets.

‘You can just drop me here. I can walk the rest of the way.’

He doesn’t argue. Just slams the car to a halt, a metre from the side of the road. I climb out, and I’m closing the door when he leans over and says, ‘Be careful.’ His voice is kind, and I think he means it. Then he yanks the door shut and drives off at speed, cars tooting horns behind him as he swerves into their path.

I walk to the far side of the pavement, away from the road, and I sit down for a minute on a low wall. My head is a mess, but I need to get myself together. I picture Carrie, and wish she was still with me. Too much has happened now for me to sort things out on my own – but she’s gone, and it’s all my fault.