She shook her head vehemently. ‘No, absolutely not! I have no proof. It may be nothing at all, but I just get this awful feeling something isn’t right. There was bloody hessian hanging from a trunk inside his log cabin in the garden.’

Ricky sighed and relaxed his grip. ‘Poppy, that doesn’t mean he was the man who attacked me. I get that you are looking for answers but finding some hessian doesn’t make him the murderer.’

‘No, of course it doesn’t. But there’s more, a lot more, but it’s hard to explain . . . ’ Suddenly, she looked up to see Arty and Liam walking along the corridor, holding cans of drink and bars of chocolate.

‘You all right, mate?’ asked Arty, with a very concerned look on his face.

Ricky glanced back at Poppy. ‘Er, I can help, but please tell me this ain’t no fantasy detective game, is it?’

She shook her head. ‘No, I’m deadly serious. Please, Ricky.’

‘A bit cosy, Ricky, ain’t it, mate? We leave you for five minutes and you two are like ol’ buddies . . . ’ The banter stopped abruptly when Arty realized that Ricky wasn’t in a joking mood.

‘Art, I need your help, mate.’ He turned to Poppy. ‘Do ya know what the doctor said? Did ya hear him mention anything about surgery?’

‘No. They’re keeping me in because I wouldn’t tell them my name or anything. So they suspect I’ve concussion. I think I’m fine, though. It’s just my ankle, but that’s in plaster, so, really, I can just leave.’

Liam screwed his face up. ‘What the fuck’s going on here, Ricky? Who is she?’

Ricky pulled Poppy closer to him; her whole body was trembling. ‘Liam, Arty, can you get her out of here? Take her to yours or mine but tell no one. She thinks she knows who attacked me. She’s Kendall’s half-sister.’

Arty jolted in shock. His eyes almost appeared to bulge out of his head. ‘No fucking way?’

Ricky nodded, affirmatively. ‘But listen. You have to get her away from here without anyone knowing what’s going on. Her muvver’s only gone and run her over, and when she saw what she’d done, she did the off. And she was running from her ol’ man. She thinks he may have something to do with my attack. Take her to me dad’s.’ He looked at Poppy. ‘Me dad’s a good man. Ya can tell him everything. He’ll help ya, and I promise ya this – he won’t call ya muvver.’

Liam sighed. ‘Come on, then. You, Art, find a wheelchair, unless . . . ’ he giggled at Poppy, ‘ya want me to sling you over me shoulder?’ He tried to keep upbeat although the news was shocking.