After that phone call, I never thought to ask anything else, I just ran to my car calling Harrisons Dad in blind panic relaying the words of my friend, and I drove, I didn’t even know where I was driving to. The memory of that drive is a blur, apart from a fire engine over taking me and I just knew it was heading to Crick.

I arrived in the village, and it became apparent I didn’t need to ask where to go, there was I think 2 police cars, an ambulance, and a fire engine with a huge group of people standing around, kids crying and a police cordon at the entrance to a bridle path I’d never been down. Someone said something about a train, and I couldn’t imagine where a train would be (I’d lived in Crick for 15 years and I just couldn’t understand). I begged the police officer to tell me something, I begged him to let me past, but he obviously had strict instructions that no-one was allowed past, and he had no information.

After what felt like an eternity, I saw three officers in the distance walking back up the path, but no sign of Harrison. I was allowed with Cameron and his dad to walk towards them, through the cordon and when we reached them they said they were 90% sure Harrison was dead – for a split second I had hope and I asked why only 90% and I will never forget the gut wrenching feeling when they gave their response, they could only be 90% sure as he couldn’t be identified.

I later learned that on that day, on the school bus coming home Harrison and a group of friends decided they would go home, get changed, and go on a bike ride. However, Harrison’s bike had a puncture, so he ran alongside them with his football. He had an Xbox and he loved being on that, but I always encouraged him to get outside in the fresh air and have adventures as often as possible.