‘Nice!’ Will says. ‘Hundred grand right there.’

‘Don’t look,’ April hisses.

Will does look. If the private number plate wasn’t a giveaway, the sight of that familiar tanned, shaven head as it emerges from the car is.

‘Fuck,’ Will whispers. His eyes dart between April’s white face and Lauren’s dad as he pops the collar on his camel overcoat.

The last time I saw this bloke, Will thinks, he was yelling threats at me and desperately trying to cover his tiny cock.

April breathes noisily through her nose – the sound of someone wrestling to control their hyperventilation.

‘Don’t think he’s coming in here,’ Will says.

Tears track down April’s quivering cheeks. ‘Why the fuck …?’

‘It’s OK. It’s OK.’ Will watches as the man turns his back on Smugglers and waits to cross the road.

‘Why am I …?’

‘He’ll be gone in a minute.’ Will tries to still April’s hand, which vibrates, rattling the table.

She sinks her teeth into her lower lip. ‘Fucking look at me. Fucking state of me.’

‘Stop it. Please.’

She turns and glares at Lauren’s dad’s back. He’s still beside his car, taking a call now.

‘There’s a back door,’ Will says. ‘Sneak you out if you like?’

She looks at Will, blank, confused. She’s dead still. Then her eyes widen, catch fire.

‘You OK?’

She is silent.

‘You don’t … look OK.’

She nods her head and slowly rises to her feet.

‘Let’s just …’

Her voice is scratchy, barely audible. ‘I’m done.’

‘What?’ Will’s following her as she crosses the bar.

‘I’m so fucking done.’

The door strikes Will on the shoulder as April barges outside and he tries to follow.

‘Hello!’ April yells.

Lauren’s dad spins round. He’s about to speak when recognition flashes across his face, robbing him of words.

‘How the hell are you?’ April shouts. ‘It’s been a while.’

He holds both palms up and smirks.

‘Too old for you now, am I?’ she says.

‘Let’s calm it,’ he says. ‘Don’t make a scene, love.’

Will stands several paces behind April.

‘Get in the car if you want to talk,’ Lauren’s dad says.

April stands, rooted to the spot. The man looks more uneasy by the second, the bluster evaporating. He backs against his expensive car.

Slowly, April turns, eyeing the alpine garden that frames the Smugglers frontage. She saunters over, wiggling a small boulder free from the rockery. Clods of mud drop from it as she approaches Lauren’s dad.

‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ he says. ‘What are you …?’

Will dashes ahead of April, blocking her path. He’s got a clear foot of height on her but still she barges him away like he’s not there.

‘My battle,’ she snaps. ‘Not yours.’