I’ve tried to second-guess Tommy’s intentions. Maybe this is just a simple punishment, and I will have to suffer it here for some hours or maybe at worst a night or two. Maybe it is just a move in this business with the dongle. They hold me here in the hope it will persuade Gary to hand it over. This scenario doesn’t worry me unduly, as I’m certain Gary will hand it over to McCoy and I will be of no further use to them. Worst-case scenario is that Tommy wants me to rot to death here in this basement as his final revenge. I dismiss this pretty quickly. Tommy is still in love with me and his end goal is to have me back by his side and at his beck and call. I will just have to wait and see. At least I’m still moving forward. Not necessarily happy, but living my own life. Then I hear a loud banging on the back door of the house.

28

‘What are you doing?’ I plead as I find myself staring down the barrel of McCoy’s gun. I instinctively place my hands out in front of my face hoping they might absorb the bullet and just leave me with shit hands.

‘I’m going to shoot you, Gary, as a thank-you for giving me the dongle and sending Henry fucking Holdsworth into my life. You ready?’

I try to answer him but not a single word will come out of my mouth. For a brief moment the image of Emily’s face staring up at me before our kiss on the promenade bench comes into my mind. My legs then turn to jelly and I fall to the floor. McCoy adjusts the angle of his arm so that the gun is still pointing directly at my forehead. I feel sick with nausea and still can’t find the switch in my brain that would allow me to speak.

‘Cheerio, Gary,’ Peterson says. ‘Don’t worry about your lady friend. We’ve got plans for her.’

McCoy pulls the trigger.

I shut my eyes tight and utter, ‘I love you, Mum,’ despite the fact she has been dead for many years.

In the darkness I hear the tune to ‘Happy Birthday’ and the sound of Lassoo barking just a few feet in front of me. I open my eyes. McCoy is still pointing the gun at me, but I haven’t heard a shot fired and I’m not aware of any injury. McCoy and Peterson are laughing at me and from his demeanour I think Lassoo is in on the joke. Then I realize that the tune is coming from the revolver in McCoy’s hand. It’s some sort of replica item intended for practical jokes or as a laughter generator at an office party. I find the ability to speak again.