‘Well, Son, you have answered your own doubt. You need the likes of Mike Regan on board because without the budget and with the lack of staff, this hideous gang situation will soon turn Kent into the Bronx. Rebecca will lose her career and that, Son, we cannot let happen. I came from nothing, but I’ve worked damned hard to have you in your position and Rebecca in hers. Don’t let me down.’

***

Zara was sitting in the Regans’ large and well-appointed lounge, flipping through the pages of a wedding gown brochure. A tear trickled down her nose. The long-sleeved gowns were beautiful and the women modelling them looked stunning, but how would she look with only one hand?

Gloria, Mike’s mother, watched her future daughter-in-law’s sad expression and guessed the reason. Hurrying over to put Zara’s mind at rest, Gloria put the brochure away.

‘Listen to me. Stop torturing yourself. You, my babe, will look stunning in anything you choose to wear. The only less than perfect thing about you at the moment is your downtrodden smile. Now then, there’s nothing we can do about your hand, but we can concentrate on everything else. The first thing you need to do is get your confidence back. There’s no point in hiding away from the world. Didn’t Davey Lanigan want to meet up with you?’

Zara smiled up at Gloria with admiration, and for a moment, she felt like a kid. Gloria was so much in control of herself and those within her orbit. With her hair fashionably styled and her clothes sharp and tasteful, Zara had never seen her without make-up or a piece of jewellery around her neck. Then, she looked down at her own attire and wondered why she was still dressed like she had been for most of her time in that basement cell. There was no need to do so now.

‘Ya know what, Gloria, you’re right. I’m going to get my hair styled. And it’s been so long since I wore anything new and fashionable. Fancy shopping?’

Gloria was ecstatic. Firstly, she’d hoped that Zara would get herself together, and secondly, she never needed an excuse to shop. ‘Arthur, where are the credit cards?’ she shouted, with a hint of excitement.

Everything seemed daunting at first, and Zara couldn’t explain how she felt. Having spent five years kept as a prisoner with no daylight and only a television for company, the world seemed almost alien to her now. Yet, she also knew that come what may, she would have to pull herself together. She was Izzy Ezra’s daughter and now the head of his estate and the business. Although the Lanigans had taken over, thinking she was dead, the proceeds of all profits had still been split fifty-fifty and her half placed in an offshore bank account, in the unlikely event she was found alive.