Freddie May and his father had talked about death more than once. The topic had come up in conversation naturally each time. How he wished he and Dad were on a bike ride now! If he ever got out of this mess, he would go every time he had the opportunity. He would stop being the sullen teenager.

The first time it had been at the old railway bridge leading into Holme Hill from Hartley.

‘I’m going to die.’

‘What on earth makes you say that, Freddie?’

‘I’ve just realised what death is. I’m going to die. We all are.’

‘Well yes, but not for a very long time yet, son.’

‘You and mum will die first. And grandpa is nearly dead already.’

‘Let’s not talk about that now, Command...

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