Aysha couldn’t believe he’d have the gall to show up. All the local faces were out looking for him and so were the police. And yet here he was. Handsome as ever. And now it had no effect on her at all. Except that she was annoyed. No, she was enraged, because if there was one single thing she didn’t want on top of Dad dying, it was this – Joey fucking Minghella coming back.

‘Christmas is over. It’s the bloody New Year now, haven’t you noticed? I’ve got nothing to say to you,’ she said, and pushed the key in the lock and went inside, trying to slam the door closed behind her. But Joey pushed hard, and Aysha was forced back. He came in, gave her that same glinting smile.

‘I don’t want you in here,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘Just fuck off, Joey. Get out.’

‘Jesus, is that any way to greet your husband?’ he said, coming in close to her, shoving her back against the wall. He was so close she could feel his breath on her face and it didn’t smell good.

‘You’re not my husband,’ she said.

‘Yeah, I am.’

‘Haven’t they caught up with you yet, you miserable useless fucker? Haven’t they gutted you like you deserve?’ she spat out.

Joey’s smile dropped. ‘Now that’s not nice.’

The door swung inwards. In his haste to get inside, Joey hadn’t properly closed it.

Benedict was standing there. ‘Aysha? What’s going on? You didn’t come in this morning, so I came over to see you’re OK.’

‘Nothing,’ she said, but she had never in her life felt so glad to see anybody.

Joey looked back over his shoulder. ‘Piss off, pal. Just shove off out of it. This is husband-and-wife stuff.’

Benedict was quiet for a beat. Then he said: ‘Like when you shoved her down the stairs so she lost your kid? You mean that sort of stuff?’

Joey spun away from Aysha with frightening speed and launched himself at Benedict, punching him hard in the jaw. Benedict reeled back against the wall. Aysha let out a yell of protest.

‘I told you,’ said Joey, wagging a finger in Benedict’s face. There was blood dripping down over Benedict’s pristine suit from a cut on his lip. ‘I told you, pal. Fuck off. Or you’ll be sorry.’

Joey turned back to Aysha, grabbing her upper arms. ‘And you, bitch, why you talking to me like—’

There was a sharp smack and Joey’s eyes turned up in his head. He slumped against Aysha, his grip loosening, then he crumpled to the floor at her feet. Aysha, shaking, her heart beating crazily, watched him fall and then looked at Benedict, who was standing there with a cosh in his hand.

‘Damn,’ he said, touching his lip and wincing. ‘Should have used the bloody cosh first.’