THURSDAY 16 OCTOBER
He’d fallen asleep making plans to leave and had dreamed intermittently about cowering away in roasting hot garages, hiding alongside madmen, clock-watching. Despite everything, when Steven got up next morning, he talked himself out of leaving straightaway for Criccieth. Last night . . . the woman in the otherwise empty bar, the things she’d said her husband had told her . . . it all seemed implausible now. In the cold light of day (not that it was cold – thirty-four degrees already this morning), all the panicked talk of yesterday evening now seemed foolish and misguided. Steven reminded himself he had responsibilities. He couldn’t just walk out on work. He was a hair’s breadth from disciplinary action, and not turning up would be tantamount to signing his own termina
