Suddenly Simon appeared.

‘Thank fuck, where you been?’ demanded Angel.

Then Angel looked at his face and stiffened in shock. Simon looked like he was about to be sick.

‘What’s up?’ she asked, deaf suddenly to the cries of the punters, who were waving fivers under her nose and shouting out their orders.

‘You’d better come,’ said Simon, and shot off out the back.

Angel followed, wondering what the hell was happening now. The back door to the stockroom, where the lorries unloaded goods inwards, was wide open. Sarah was hunched in the open doorway, on her knees.

‘Sarah? What’s going on?’ asked Angel, hurrying over.

Sarah’s face lifted; it was wet, her eyes huge. ‘It’s . . .’ she started, and then Angel saw.

Tom was laid out in the open doorway. There was blood on his head. Angel felt her stomach spasm, as if someone had kicked it.

‘I almost fell over him,’ cried Sarah. ‘Someone knocked at the door, and Tom was back here having a break. I heard him answer it, and then nothing. I came out to get some mixers, and he was just lying here with his head cut open . . .’

Angel pushed Sarah out of the way and flung herself down onto her knees beside her cousin.

‘Tom!’ she said urgently, but his eyes didn’t open. There was blood on his forehead, running down into his hair. She put a hand on his chest. His heart was beating, but his breathing was shallow. He looked bad, really bad.

She turned to Sarah and Simon. ‘Get an ambulance,’ she snapped. They were just standing there, too stunned to move. ‘Hurry up!’ Angel shouted, and that galvanized Simon into action. Angel’s instinct was to put something under Tom’s head for a pillow, but she didn’t dare. It might make things worse. She looked out at the alley, cloaked in darkness. Someone had come to the door and done this. Lying half in and half out of the door as he was, she couldn’t even close the damned thing and make herself feel more secure.

This ain’t over sprang into her mind. That strange-looking man grabbing her wrist, leaning in close over the bar. Mother to daughter, this goes on. And he’d included the other O’Briens in the threat, too. He’d included them all. Even Tom.

‘I’ve phoned for the ambulance. They won’t be long, I’ve told them to come round the back,’ said Simon. Sarah stood there, arms clasped around herself, looking down at Tom with horror. Awkwardly, Simon put an arm around her.

‘Somebody did this,’ said Sarah numbly. ‘Somebody came to the door and when he opened it they hit him. That could have been any of us. You, Simon. Or me.’

Angel cradled Tom in her arms. She didn’t think Simon or Sarah could have been targeted. Tom was her cousin. They were close. Yes – they were family.

And she had been warned.

She looked down at Tom’s sweet face. He’d always been so kind to her. Back when they’d been kids, he’d ignored her tetchiness and he’d won her over, become a real friend to her. He didn’t deserve this. She felt her eyes fill with tears. She’d always said fuck the family. But she didn’t want to lose Tom. She really couldn’t bear that. And how the hell . . . oh God, she hadn’t thought of this before, but now it pounded inside her skull like a hammer on an anvil. How the hell was she going to break this news to his mother?