Ridley was in his element as every officer worked toward the same goal. He could smell success. Anik could smell promotion. Jack could smell bullshit. And Ridley had fallen for it hook, line and sinker.

Jack’s mobile screen lit up: Reminder: dinner with Maggie. This was, in fact, the second reminder and so he now only had ten minutes to travel halfway across London. Jack couldn’t listen to Ridley any longer—this great man, who Jack had always looked up to, was now so far down the wrong road. Jack had bet his reputation on the guilt of the women from The Grange and he’d had it thrown back in his face. Just when he’d finally started caring about this thankless job, no one was listening.

All he wanted right now . . . was Maggie.

Chapter 30

The bus was in a lengthy queue waiting to embark on the ferry from Newcastle to Amsterdam. The kids were exhausted and were trying to sleep, and Ester was being more obnoxious than usual, having drunk the contents of one of her hip flasks. She had two more tucked away in various pockets of her clothing.

“It looks like a floating skip!” she said scathingly, as she caught sight of the ferry.

Ester took any and every opportunity to undermine Angela’s escape plan; it was as though she wanted it to fail just so she could laugh in Angela’s face and mock how the “little tart” from all those years ago should have stayed on the lowest rung of the ladder, where she belonged, and made no attempt to climb. Ester’s penchant for self-destruction was well known, so they’d already agreed to keep her sweet for another week or two because after that they’d never have to see her again.

“We’re staying in Hyatt House in Düsseldorf tomorrow night, Ester.” Rob’s deep, velvety voice from the driving seat made Ester go weak at the knees and he knew it. “Google it, darlin’. It’s stunning.”

Ester obediently got out her mobile and, as she scrolled through the photos of the double-staircase, gold and winding up three floors, she beamed and opened her second hip flask.

Angela put her hand inside Rob’s, as they inched closer and closer to the first test of their new passports. She was nervous; she was so excited for what lay ahead of them, and terrified of losing it at the final turn. Rob’s huge hand enveloped Angela’s. She loved the rough callouses at the base of each of his fingers, just above his palm. They were comforting. Her man knew what hard work was and that made him appreciate everything he had. He could take on anything, because he knew what life was about. His life, anyway.

The front wheels of the bus hesitated on the lip of the ramp, rolled back a little, then went for it. They were aboard.

A man in a yellow safety vest waved them into a parking space and Rob turned the engine off. For a few seconds, they all nervously looked out their nearest window for . . . what?