She waited until her father was out of sight and then made her way to the back of the shops. Apart from the large industrial bins, the back entrance was pretty tidy. Sliding the key into the main door, her heart beat fast in anticipation. This was it: this was her new life. She only hoped the flat was decent and presentable. The stairwell to her own dwelling was clean, so everything was looking very promising. So far, so good. Then she reached the top of the stairs and looked down at the number on the key; it was thirty-four. To the left was thirty-two and to her right was her new home – number thirty-four. The lock was stiff at first, and she had to jiggle the key about a bit until she felt it unlock.

Holding her breath, she pushed the door open. To her surprise, the small hallway was like new. It was fitted with an unstained beige carpet and unblemished cream walls. She hurried through, straight into the sitting room. It wasn’t particularly big, but it was large enough. A basic black leather sofa, a small flame-effect electric fire, a dated TV, and a small cabinet were the total contents of the room. The net curtains were plain but sufficient – not that anyone could see in unless they had a ladder. Next, she ventured into the kitchen, which consisted of just a plain, cheap white set of drawer cabinets, with an oven and a fridge. The bedroom was much the same in that it contained the bare essentials: there was a double bed, a cabinet, and a wardrobe.

She smiled to herself; with a few personal belongings, she would feel right at home. She sat down on the sofa and gazed at every inch of the room. It was perfect.

***

Zara pushed her food around the plate. ‘Are you busy today, Eric?’

The colour had returned to his cheeks. ‘I told you, babe. I’m here if you need me.’

‘Could you take me to the hospital? I want to see Neil.’

Eric placed his knife and fork down. ‘Yeah, no worries, but wasn’t he just a business associate, really? I mean, if you’re their boss . . . ’

Zara shot Eric a look that he’d never seen before.

‘I told you, Eric, the Lanigans are like family to me.’

‘Are you sure they weren’t just muscling in on your business, taking it over piece by piece, while you were . . . well, ya know, missing?’

At that moment, Zara realized that Eric actually knew very little about her now. It stood to reason: she’d been away in Ireland for five years secretly running the businesses with the Lanigans, and then she was kidnapped by the Segals and held captive for another five. And in all that time, Mike was in prison himself, without so much as a letter from Eric.