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      ‘Well, tough. Because I do.’

      ‘I can’t bear it. I can’t bear to see you on the streets with no one to care for you and no one to love you. I want you with me.’ She dashed away the tears that were trickling down her cheeks.

      ‘I thought you understood, Cora.’ His voice was hard. ‘This has to be done. This is my life now.’

      ‘I don’t know why you’re punishing yourself,’ she whispered.

      ‘Yes, you do.’

      ‘Please, Rick. Come home with me. Or at least let me find you a place in a shelter for a few nights.’

      ‘Stop it.’ He sighed. ‘Cora, this is exactly what you do. You come here offering to pay for me to have my hair cut, trim my beard, probably put pomade or whatever that stuff is on it, but it would make a nonsense of everything. It would make a nonsense of my life. Of our lives. Of what I need to do. I have a purpose. Leave it, Cora, leave me alone, let me get on with it, like we agreed.’

      ‘I want us to be together. I’m not strong enough without you,’ she whispered.

      ‘You are. You’re stronger than anyone. Now, leave it, Cora, for fuck’s sake.’

      And she had seen that anger in his face, the anger that could spill over into something altogether more frightening, and she had turned and left. Almost running in her haste.

      ‘That’s right, Cora,’ he shouted after her. ‘Run away. Just like you always do.’

      She stopped and turned. ‘You know what, Rick? You’re a loser. You think you’re making life easier for me? Well you’re not. You’re bloody not.’

      And since then she hadn’t been able to find him. And how she bitterly regretted the words she had flung at him so carelessly, so thoughtlessly.

      ‘Rick didn’t tell you about a job, then?’ she asked Martin now.

      ‘Nah.’ He smiled at her. ‘He didn’t say anything.’ He stroked Ethel, who snuggled up even closer to him.

      ‘But it was after he spoke to them that he disappeared?’

      ‘Well, couldn’t rightly say the two things were, like, connected, but—’ Another shrug of his shoulders.

      Cora wanted to know. She wanted to know right now whether the two things were connected, who the men were, what they had wanted with Rick. Whether he had done something really stupid.

      ‘They haven’t spoken to you then, Martin? These men?’

      ‘No, I ain’t seen them. Rick told me to be careful of ’em though. Come to think of it—’

      ‘What?’

      ‘Nobby said he’d been spoke to by some blokes.’ He sniffed, hard. Ethel moved away for a moment, then came back to his side.

      ‘Nobby?’

      ‘Yeah. He used to hang out in the doorway of the old bank. Said it was the nearest he’d ever get to any moolah.’

      ‘Okay.’ Cora tried not to show her impatience.

      ‘I haven’t seen him for a while. Or Lindy.’

      ‘Lindy?’

      ‘Lives in the grounds of St Peter Mancroft. By the hedge.’

      ‘Thanks, I’ll go and check it out.’

      Cora could see Martin’s eyes beginning to close. ‘Martin, how about a night in the shelter?’ she said softly, reaching into her pocket for a biscuit for Ethel, who took it from her with careful teeth and a fair amount of slobber.

      ‘Nah. Thanks, Cora.’

      She put her umbrella down by his side.

CHAPTER TWO

       DAY ONE: EVENING

      He was shivering, his teeth chattering, water dripping off his hair as he crawled out of the river and onto the shingle. The tee-shirt and boxer shorts he was wearing were sodden, clinging to his skin. He paused on his hands and knees, panting, exhausted, and looked around. There were lights in the distance, but not at this point of the harbour. Not here. Surely no one would have seen him?

      The night was dark, there was neither moon nor stars, for which he was grateful. Less chance of being spotted.

      Had he been missed yet?

      He couldn’t stay here. He had to get moving. Get up. Get up.

      His body was too heavy. He tried to unfurl, to stand.

      So much effort.

      He could do this. He’d been fit once. Muscle memory, that’s what he needed.

      He gritted his teeth.

      His head was pounding, there was a sickness in his stomach. He mustn’t think of what he’d had to leave behind. All that work, all those chances he’d taken and he’d had to get rid of it when he realized they were on to him. When he knew he had to escape. Right away. And he’d left her behind too. He’d wanted her to go with him, but she wouldn’t. Said she would slow him down. She would have done, and they could have made it together. Until it was too late for her.

      Come on, come on.

      Almost up. He stayed for a minute, back hunched, hands on the top of his knees, still shivering, always shivering. He couldn’t remember when he’d last felt warm, when his head was clear, when he felt well. He couldn’t remember.

      A car. He needed a car.

      Shapes grew out of the shadows. A shed, boathouses made of timber, two fishing boats resting on the concrete. The smell of fish and diesel in the swirling air.

      He listened.

      All he heard was the wind whistling around the edges of the buildings, then he became aware of the wind drying his body, his clothes, making him shiver more deeply, right down to his bones, to the damaged organs in his body.

      Cold.

      Cold was a killer.

      He took a deep breath and staggered towards an old shed. Hugging its perimeter, he peered around the corner.

      Nothing. Nobody.

      Lights, though. On the car park. Not many, but enough. Had to keep away from those.

      He set off in a crab-like run, fear giving an edge to his strides. He was better now, had to be better, had to get to freedom, had to leave this place behind.

      He

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