Irena was crying now, and Karel grasped her face in his hand, and hissed, ‘Pack it in before he hears you, you stupid bitch. If you fuck this up for me, I’ll make you wish you’d never been fuckin’ born. D’ya hear me?’

‘Please . . .’ Irena sobbed, clutching at the lapels of his jacket. ‘Don’t make me do this!’

Irritated, Karel slapped her hands away and pushed her up against the ledge. Then, raising his hand, he snapped his fingers at Nick, saying, ‘Get something to shut her up. Oral not spike.’

Nick walked over to the fridge, and a chill skittered down Frank’s spine when the man took out a bottle of Oramorph. It was one of Maureen’s, and he’d meant to return it to the pharmacy after she passed away. But like so many other things he’d meant to do in those dark days, it had completely slipped his mind.

‘You can’t give her that,’ he said when Nick shook the bottle. ‘It’s dangerous.’

‘Not as dangerous as sticking your beak in where it ain’t wanted,’ Nick replied, shoulder-barging him into the table.

Wincing when his hip connected with the wood, Frank said, ‘I’m serious. You can’t mess with that stuff. It’s lethal if you give it to someone who doesn’t need it.’

‘Best shut your gob, then, or you’ll be having some an’ all,’ Nick warned, yanking a drawer open and pulling out an oral syringe.

‘Karel, I love you,’ Irena sobbed. ‘And you say you love me. We are meant to be marry and have children. You promise.’

‘And how d’you reckon that’s gonna happen when you’re getting hitched to him?’ Karel replied smoothly, nodding at Frank.

‘But this was your idea,’ she reminded him desperately. ‘You say I must marry him so we can take house. I did not want any of this. All I want is you.’

‘Shouldn’t have fuckin’ lied to me then, should you?’ Karel said coldly, reaching for the oral syringe when Nick had finished filling it. ‘Now quit whining, and open up.’

Irena clamped her lips together and shook her head, but she couldn’t move, because Karel had her pinned against the ledge.

‘Stop it!’ Frank yelled, lurching round the table when Karel grabbed her hair and yanked her head back.

‘Don’t even think about it!’ Nick warned, leaping in front of him and thrusting the knife under his nose. ‘Unless you want me to make a call and have your fucktard son’s head blown off? And, trust me, I’ll be more than happy to oblige if that’s the road you wanna go down. Now, what’s it to be . . . her, or him?’