Fuck knows. All Nikki knew was that she had her Tuesday-night kickboxing class at 6.30 pm and she should have left already. She’d taken up kickboxing after her move. She knew she would never be able to take down a gang of bikies, but she thought she might feel safer knowing how to punch, elbow and kick at least one of them in the balls, a move she had been practising in the mirror.

She hadn’t had a visit from the Prospect guy, the boss guy or any other bikies for that matter since she’d delivered the drugs to Riley. He had said it would stop and it had. She’d moved house – she’d been too scared to stay in her old house on her own – got a new mobile number and not listed it, and got a new car and registered it in a business name that Riley had set up that couldn’t be traced back to her. She’d followed all of Riley’s instructions and here she was. She wasn’t stupid, though – she knew there was no guarantee she was safe. They had tracked her down before, so they could probably do it again. If they wanted to.

But Riley had promised. And he’d never broken a promise to her before.

Still, she lived in constant fear. Her doctor said she was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. Nikki thought that was something only soldiers got after returning from war, but apparently she’d had it even before her run-in on the road in Surry Hills that day. The psychologist she was now seeing told her that the arrest and incarceration of ‘Brad’ – Riley said she should never speak his name – had already caused her serious mental anguish and stress. She’d starting taking a daily dose of a drug called fluoxetine, which just made her feel spaced out, as it the world were covered in a light fog.

Having a flatmate did more for her than the medication. So did the alarm system, the window bars and the security lights on her new privately listed rental. Actually, the lights were a bit of a nuisance. Nikki panicked every time a cat, a possum or a strong wind set them off. Riley would have known how to adjust the sensor.

‘Argggh,’ she exclaimed. ‘Where the fuck are they?’

She started ripping her new Ikea cushions off her new Ikea lounge, having remembered that she’d sat down for a quick chat with Ivy before changing into her Lorna Jane. Ivy was glued to the news.

Adored by Australia until he was revealed to be a child molester, former star of Farmers and Daughters Billy Briggs met a grisly end yesterday when he was beaten to death by a cold-blooded killer . . .

Nikki dropped to the floor and looked under the lounge, thinking she may have accidentally kicked them across the carpet.