26 Criccieth was tantalisingly close and yet it still seemed impossibly distant, as if it would never get any closer. Downhill slopes were covered in seconds, but the short, sharp climbs required more effort and energy than Steven had left in his legs. He’d pushed too hard when he’d first found the bike and now he was spent. Exhausted. Nothing left to give. He still carried his rucksack on his back. It weighed him down, but it was all he had left now, the only physical attachment to the life he’d left behind in Cambridge. It had only been two and a half days but it felt like weeks ago now. The house and car keys, important paperwork, photographs, other treasured memories . . . the last remaining reminders of who Steven used to be and the life he’d shared with Sam. You don’t need any of i

