For the first time since the hit-and-run, Poppy chuckled. Maybe it was the relief. ‘I don’t mind either way, as long as I get away from here before the police arrive.’

Ricky removed his own dressing gown, one his nan had brought in for him. ‘Take this, Poppy. You stay safe, babe, and I’ll call me dad, and tell him what’s going on, like.’

She looked at Arty and then at Liam.

‘Hey, trust me. You’re as safe as houses with those two.’

Arty hurried along the corridor until he found a wheelchair. Liam helped her onto the seat and carried her crutches. They nodded to Ricky and were gone in a heartbeat.

***

In a daze of confusion, Zara wandered from room to room, her mind desperately trying to take everything in. First Mike, then Eric, and now there was a niggling doubt about the Lanigans. Knowing she should never make a rash decision when under so much stress, she sat down at her father’s desk, in deep thought. What did she really want for herself? Was running a firm exactly her idea of the good life? Did she really need all the excitement? Surely, she’d had enough drama to last a lifetime? She contemplated the events of the past few days, marshalling her thoughts in order. She owned the restaurants and could easily sell them and retire from the money. Did she want the headache? And as for the country now being slowly pulled to bits by unruly kids hooked on this new drug, did she even want to live here anymore?

She sighed in defeat and pulled out the title deeds that she’d only recently placed in the drawer of the desk. Previously, they’d been stored in a hiding place that not even Ismail had known about – luckily. Not that it would do him much good now, she thought.

The manila folder even smelled of antiques, it was so old. She stared at her father’s handwriting and imagined him once more sitting at the desk and planning his next good deal. As she opened the file, there in Old English was the first set of deeds. Then her eyes glistened as soon as they fell on the black-and-white photo of her mother. The tall, slender woman, with thick chestnut-coloured curls that hung loose, framing her heart-shaped face, was beautiful. The soft, loving expression in her eyes really showed the person she had once been. Zara allowed the tears to cascade down her cheeks. Her dear, sweet, and wonderful mother was taken from her far too soon. She never got to share her daughter’s teenage years and be there for her. The empty feeling brought with it a sense of loneliness. No mother, father, or brother, and now, not even Mike was in her life. What was she really doing? Was it all worth it? she pondered.