Vanished

Chapter 27

Jack’s Friday began with a phone call from the jeweller who was resizing Maggie’s wedding ring. She’d seen a stunning platinum band with a line of delicate, 2.4 mm diamonds that spiralled round like a DNA helix. Maggie had spotted the ring from across the other side of the shop and had joked that it ‘spoke’ to her. DNA was the make-up of each human being and Maggie always said that loving Jack was in her DNA, just like the colour of her eyes and the kink in her hair. The ring had been far too expensive, but Jack had encouraged her to try it on anyway — just to imagine what the perfect wedding ring might feel like. Then they’d chosen and ordered a very pleasant, but not heart-poundingly beautiful ring, together with a matching man’s version. Both had required resizing, so were left at the shop. Later that day, Jack had called the jeweller’s and ordered the DNA ring for Maggie, and the ‘very pleasant’ ring for himself. Jack was thrilled to start the day with news that Maggie’s dream wedding ring was going to be ready in time.

After collecting the rings, he went to the venue in Fulham where the reception was being held. He was under orders from Maggie to tell them to expect the table flowers to be delivered around eight on Saturday morning and also to have one bottle of champagne, one bottle of red and one bottle of white on every table for when the guests arrived. All drinks had to be vegan friendly. Mrs Kasabian was as patronising as the first time she’d met Jack: ‘You can tick me off your little to-do list, Mr Warr. Tell your wife that everything will be perfect.’ Jack was annoyed with her — not for presuming him to be an unreliable, untrustworthy man who needed his wife to give him a list because hadn’t the first clue about planning a wedding... he was annoyed with her for being right.

From Fulham, Jack went to Soho House to extend their stay in the bridal suite to include the Sunday night. He also arranged for champagne and flowers to be in the room when they arrived on the Saturday night.

Then Jack headed to Hazlitt’s, a truly stunning little hotel booked by Maggie’s parents. Maggie had sent them a list of mid-priced B&Bs and guesthouses in the immediate area, but they’d opted for the £250-a-night Hazlitt’s as a wedding gift to themselves. Jack welcomed them to London and asked if they needed anything from him prior to the big day. They were a pleasant enough couple, but talking to her dad, George, was like pulling teeth. As he relayed the details of their train journey, Jack couldn’t help but worry about the length of the ‘Father of the Bride’ speech.

Back home, Penny was moving all of the unopened gifts back into the dining room. Maggie came downstairs with Hannah in her arms and quickly apologised to Penny for making even more work for her. The gifts were meant to be open by now, and a thank-you list should have been made. ‘Simon turned up. I left them to talk on the proviso that today and the whole of the weekend is a work-free zone.’ Penny raised her eyebrows and blew a raspberry. This made Hannah laugh, so she did it again. ‘Daddy can’t forget about work for a whole weekend, can he?’ she said in a baby voice. ‘No, he can’t. Silly Mummy.’ Hannah reached for Penny and Maggie willingly handed her over. ‘Jack and I will open the gifts tonight and make a thank you list. I promise.’

‘OK, darling.’ Penny didn’t sound convinced. She had gone from being uptight and ultra-efficient to being relaxed and fatalistic. All of the big things were now organised — if some of the finer details fell by the wayside, so be it.

By 3 p.m., Jack was sitting on the bed staring at the zipped wedding gown bag hanging on the back of his bedroom door. Beneath it, almost hidden, was his black suit. Jack held the open jeweller’s box containing Maggie’s DNA ring. His ‘very pleasant’ ring was on his finger. He turned it with his thumb, feeling the cold metal glide over his skin. It felt like it was going to fall off. It felt like he wouldn’t be able to keep it safe once he was back in the real world. It felt like he’d never get used to the feel of it and always be distracted from what he was supposed to be doing. He didn’t like it. Jack put his ring back into the box alongside Maggie’s, just as she entered the bedroom.

‘Oh, the rings! Has he done a good job of resizing them?’ As Maggie reached for the jewellery box, Jack dropped it onto the bed directly behind him, gently grabbed Maggie’s wrists and stood up. He swept her arms behind her back, forcing her body tight against his. He leant down and kissed her neck, turning her on the spot until she stood with her back to the bed. Jack continued kissing Maggie’s neck as he unbuttoned her blouse.

Maggie sighed. ‘We’re supposed to be opening presents, Jack.’

‘I am.’ They fell back onto the bed, laughing. His amorous mood then subsided and he became almost subdued in her arms. ‘Thank you for sticking with me,’ he whispered. ‘Thank you for not giving up.’

‘I would never give up on you. That would be like giving up on life.’ Maggie ran her fingers through Jack’s thick black hair and gazed deep into his eyes.

Jack breathed the words, ‘Do you have any idea how much I love you?’

‘I do.’

Jack took his time getting ready for his stag night because he didn’t want to go. Maggie reassured him that whatever Ridley had organised, it would be fun — and if it wasn’t, then at least Jack knew it’d all be over by ten as Ridley was an early-to-bed-early-to-rise kind of man. A message pinged through on Jack’s mobile. ‘Ridley’s texting me the venue.’ Jack read his message. His head dropped. ‘It’s at the bloody pub up the road from the station!’ Maggie wrapped her arms round him, and he let his head fall onto her shoulder. ‘Don’t make me go, Mags. I want to stay here with you.’

Jack entered the main bar of The Red Dragon. The only person in the entire place was Morgan. He beamed and waved his half-empty pint glass in the air. ‘Gerrus another, eh, groomy.’ Jack strode to the bar with a face like thunder. Dave had owned The Red Dragon for around eight years. He was five feet tall, with the physique of a jockey. Not that you’d guess his height from the customer side because he stood on the specially made raised platform that ran all around the inside of the bar. Behind Dave, above the optics, a cheap banner reading STAG PARTY was Blu Tacked to the mirrors along with inflatable antlers at either end.

Jack was stunned into silence. He ordered two pints of lager and a double whisky which he downed whilst the pints were being pulled. ‘There’s nibbles in the back.’ Dave rarely spoke and, when he did, he used very few words. ‘In the pool room. A few sarnies and crisps.’ Dave nodded his head towards Morgan, who was now texting on his mobile. ‘I didn’t let him in, ’cos he’d eat it all before you arrived. But you can go through now. I’ll send others through as they arrive.’

Morgan drank his pint on the move, as he led the way through to the pool room. Drinking and walking at the same time was slow going, but Jack couldn’t overtake him as he filled the narrow corridor that led to the back of the pub. As they got to the door, Morgan turned and waggled his eyebrows. ‘I hope no one else comes. I’m starving.’ He then walked backwards into the room, grinning and drinking as he nudged the door open...

Dozens of hands holding drinks rose into the air and a raucous cheer echoed through the room. Ridley stood square in the middle of the crowd, holding two glasses of whisky and looking very smug. The pool room was unrecognisable. It was now a casino. Gaming tables had been brought in, male and female croupiers wearing red waistcoats and red bowties were at their posts ready to deal, and a small bar had been set up in the corner of the room. The smile on Jack’s face had appeared from nowhere, but now it wouldn’t go. As he made his way across the room towards Ridley, dozens of his fellow officers from every division in the station gave him their best wishes — or their condolences, depending on whether they felt like being sincere or sarcastic.

Ridley handed Jack a double whisky, keeping one for himself. ‘People wanted to pop in as they came off shift. This seemed like the most sensible venue.’ The two men clinked glasses and sipped the well-chosen single malt.

For the next two hours, people drank far too much, ate from the constant supply of pizzas that kept coming out of the kitchen, sang along to a steady stream of nineties music and lost money at the tables.

Foxy spent much of the evening with Anik, trying to ascertain why Laura was the only woman in London who was immune to his charms. Anik draped his arm round Foxy’s shoulders and talked beer fumes into his face. ‘Foxy, Foxy, Foxy. She’s high maintenance mate. Men like me and you need someone for a good time, not a long time.’ Anik then set his sights on the blackjack croupier.

At eleven, Dave gave a 30-minute warning and, over the following half hour, the croupiers gradually brought each game to a close, then hid each table beneath a closely fitting branded pastic sheet. It took another thirty minutes and numerous tannoy announcements from Dave for everyone to clear the pool room and filter through to the main bar.

During the evening, Jack had been pleasantly surprised by the fact that scores of people had come and gone. In truth, they only amounted to a small percentage of the station’s workforce, but they were the important percentage — the people who Jack liked and respected. Even Angel popped her head round the door at just gone ten. She put a tequila slammer with salt and a slice of lemon on the rim into Jack’s hand, then clinked his shot glass with hers, necked her tequila, kissed him smack on the lips and said she couldn’t stay as she was on her way to a domestic triple murder-suicide.

Jack put his hand on her arm. ‘One second, Angel, just a query: do you know if anything of interest was found in the bins from the Jenkins house?’

‘Nope, just rotting food, old newspapers and old cardboard boxes from Amazon. But we took DNA from the cigarette butts, though it might be no good due to them being sodden. I have to go.’

Jack had parked his car round the back of the police station, so the first thing he and Ridley did on leaving The Red Dragon was head across to collect Jack’s overnight bag and wedding suit from the boot. Both men then embarked on the short walk to Ridley’s flat, where the groom would hole up overnight, so as not to risk seeing the bride on the wedding day until the moment she arrived at the registry office.

On their way back to his flat, Ridley insisted on ‘treating’ Jack to sausage and chips from Carlo’s Takeaway, which looked like someone’s front room with the wall knocked out. But Ridley insisted that Carlo sold the very best chips in London, so Jack went along with it. Jack paced the wide kerb edge whilst waiting for Ridley to buy their impromptu supper, which neither of them really needed as they’d been eating pizza since nine.

‘What’s in the weird bag?’

Jack turned to see a group of five young lads, all wearing black hoodies beneath various styles of denim jacket. Instinct kicked in and in the time it took for Jack to reply that it was a suit bag containing his wedding outfit, he’d moved around so that his back was to the window of Carlo’s Takeaway. He placed both bags on the ground behind his legs and he put his hand into his jacket pocket and closed his fingers around his house keys, manoeuvring his Yale key in between his fingers. Jack was now certain that if this gang were looking for trouble, he could keep them at bay until Ridley twigged what was happening and joined him.

‘Show us it.’

The leader of the group stood with both hands in his pockets, and spoke with a frightening degree of confidence. The remaining four lads hung back, waiting for their instructions. Even though none of them were much older than seventeen, they were all fit young men who, Jack presumed, would be in far better shape than himself or Ridley.

Jack was the epitome of calm. ‘My mate in there says these are the best chips in London. Fancy some?’ The leader shuffled his feet slightly, showing how Jack’s question had thrown him off guard. ‘You see, I’m not going to open the bag. So, I’m hoping I can just buy you some chips and we can all head home.’ Ridley stepped out of Carlo’s holding a paper carrier bag containing two portions of sausage and chips. The instant his feet were on the pavement, he knew what was happening. Jack nodded to him. ‘I was just saying to these lads that the best way for tonight to end is with us buying them some chips.’ Jack stared the leader dead in the eyes. ‘Anything else would be stupid.’

The lad smirked, and removing his hand from his pocket he pressed the button on the handle of his flick knife.

In the next split-second, Jack took his hand from his pocket and punched the lad on the top of his right arm. The Yale key penetrated his skin by an inch and, before he pulled it out, Jack twisted it, tearing the puncture wound into a jagged hole. The lad screamed in agony and his damaged bicep immediately became too painful to wield the knife.

Jack quickly and fiercely pointed his bloodied finger at the other four lads. ‘Go home! Before you really start to piss me off!’

All five lads looked at each other and, with one united nod, they made the wrong decision. In the time it took for Ridley to put the bag of food on the floor, more flick knives were out and pointing in their direction. Ridley deftly slipped his open jacket off his shoulders and wrapped it round his left forearm just as the blade of a knife sliced through the material. With one lad now within arm’s reach, Ridley landed a single powerful punch to his chin, cracking his jaw. The three remaining lads now froze to the spot. They pointed their knives, but none had the courage to use them. The lad with the broken jaw knelt on the pavement, cradling his face and crying in agony. Ridley took out his mobile and called for an ambulance as Jack stepped towards the remaining three lads.

‘I’ll say it again — go home.’ They didn’t need telling a third time.

As the leader watched most of his gang running away, he glared up at Ridley ‘I’m gonna kill you,’ he spat. He was on his knees, bleeding and abandoned, but he couldn’t bring himself to surrender. ‘You hear me?’ the boy grinned through dirty, stained teeth. ‘Enjoy his wedding... ’cos next thing will be your funeral.’

A darkness descended behind Ridley’s eyes and his fingers closed tightly around his mobile phone until his knuckles turned white. Ridley stepped towards the leader of the gang and lashed out with the hard edge of his mobile, striking the open wound to his bicep. The boy screamed in pain and crumpled onto his back. Ridley raised his fist again, but Jack caught his wrist in mid-flight. In the blink of an eye, sanity returned, and Ridley seemed to deflate. The fight had drained him and now he could hardly breathe. He was in shock. He stared at Jack’s fingers wrapped around his wrist. There was blood on his shirt cuff and on the edge of his mobile. Ridley looked at the blood as though he had no idea how it had got there. Jack let go of Ridley’s arm. He then picked up his bag of food and they headed for home.

For a good fifty yards, Jack walked behind Ridley. Then Ridley stopped. ‘I get these rushes of anger. I’m so fucking angry, Jack. And I’m scared. I’m fighting, and winning, I think. But what if it’s spread? What if it comes back?’ Jack and Ridley stood in the middle of the pavement, forcing the drunken stragglers from pubs and clubs to walk around them. ‘Who would care? For long, I mean. People would be sad for a bit, but nothing more than that. My only relative is a mother who doesn’t know who I am. Two months ago, I wrote my will. I have a flat with a mortgage and a few savings. I got an estate agent to value it, and it’s worth about fifty grand, but then it dawned, I’ve no one to leave anything to. Do you want it?’

Jack shrugged. ‘Sure.’ It took a second, but then both men were quietly laughing as they resumed walking towards Ridley’s flat.

By 3 a.m., Jack was still lying awake in the spare room. The little white box gave nothing away: no pictures, no colour, no personality. There was nothing except for a white single bed and a white set of flatpack bedroom furniture. It was like a hospital room.

Jack had been awake for so long now that he was beginning to get a headache. He got up and crept into the bathroom to try and find some paracetamol.

The contents of Ridley’s medicine cabinet were not encouraging: temazepam, dolasetron, protein powders, oramorph and at least ten bottles of various vitamin supplements. Jack felt useless, seeing the stark reality of his friend’s illness.

The next morning, Maggie opened her eyes and spent the first five minutes of her wedding day staring at the empty pillow next to her. Then Penny entered carrying a cup of tea, some buttered toast with poached eggs and two glasses of bucks fizz on a tray. Maggie sat up and Penny perched on the edge of the bed. They clinked glasses and sipped the fresh, tangy champagne.

Penny’s eyes filled with unexpected tears. ‘Since the first day I saw you and my son together, I knew you’d become a Warr one day. It just took a bit longer than I expected,’ Penny joked. ‘And I know that taking a man’s name doesn’t mean what it used to, and that’s no doubt a good thing, but... Oh, Maggie, I’ve waited so long to call you my daughter-in-law. You fill me with such pride.’

Maggie precariously hugged Penny over her breakfast tray, then they gulped down their first drink of the day.

Ridley stood at the front of the modestly sized room, tightly clutching the ring box. Although the bride’s family were seated on the opposite side of the room to the groom’s, many of the guests knew each other because Maggie and Jack had grown up in the same corner of Totnes, so their parents had mutual neighbours and friends. The rest of the guests were from various parts of the emergency services, so again paths had crossed many times before. Wetlock was seated towards the rear of the room on his own, next to the door in the ‘quick escape’ row of seats. He had his head down, checking his mobile, avoiding conversation with his neighbours.

There was a ripple of unrest running around the forty-three guests, due to the fact that Jack wasn’t standing next to his best man — but this was quickly replaced with joy as the doors at the back of the room opened...

Princess and Hannah both wore layered pink dresses with lace trim and matching pink hair bands. Princess sat in a Little Tikes Cozy Coupe, which Hannah was pushing whilst also dropping petals onto the floor, and Mario steered.

By the time they reached the front of the room, most people had tears in their eyes. Regina swept Hannah up into her arms and Mario steered Princess to the side of the room, before lifting her out and joining Regina and Hannah in the front row. All eyes returned to the now-open doors at the back of the room, where Jack stood, on the arm of his mum.

Penny beamed with pride and made a point of meeting every single tearful eye as she walked her only son down the short, makeshift aisle. By the time she was at the front, all of her neighbours from back home had their handkerchiefs out. Ridley took Penny by the hand and led her to her seat in the front row, near Regina. As soon as Penny was seated, Hannah scrambled into her arms. And once Jack was in position at the front of the room, the music began, and Maggie entered on her dad’s arm.

She looked stunning in her long-sleeved white satin dress. It hugged every curve of her athletic body. The neckline was elegantly revealing, plunged just far enough to meet her cleavage. Jack was speechless, in awe of the fact that Maggie had somehow managed to make herself even more breathtaking than usual. As she continued towards him, they never took their eyes off each other.

The ceremony was blissfully short and sweet, with all of the superfluous, old-style wording removed. Before Jack knew it, Ridley was being asked if he had the rings, and the second he opened the box and Maggie saw the DNA ring, she burst into tears, throwing her arms round Jack’s neck. The guests, although confused, knew that something special had just happened so responded with laughter and a round of applause.

Mrs Kasabian turned out to be true to her word. The venue was perfect down to the very last detail. Champagne was opened on cue, and no one had an empty glass for longer than two seconds before a teenager in immaculate black-and-whites swooped in and filled it up.

Ridley led Penny in on his arm, and asked what she would like to drink. Penny smiled at the fact that he was prepared to keep her company. ‘Don’t you worry about me. I’m going to pop over to my old Totnes friends and reminisce about what tearaways the bride and groom were as children.’ She reached onto her tip toes and kissed Ridley on the cheek. ‘Thank you, Simon. You are kind.’

Ridley watched Penny walk across the room, into the open arms of a big group of loving, attentive, lifelong friends. Ridley thrust his hands into his pockets and, no longer needed, headed to the bar on his own.

The early part of the evening was filled with old friends reconnecting, joyous dancing, hundreds of photos being taken, and dozens of bottles of wine being polished off. The teenage waiters seemed to be under strict instructions never to allow a glass to fully empty, so people quickly lost track of how much they’d actually drunk. At 5 p.m., Mrs Kasabian turned the music down and asked everyone to make their way to the tables. Wine glasses were filled, and the father of the bride stood to make his speech. He announced himself as being a man of few words, which thankfully turned out to be true, as he was also incredibly dull. He received a polite round of applause and Jack got to his feet.

‘Thank you all for coming. It’s great to see so many friends here, old and new. Thank you to George and Hazel for allowing me to marry your daughter. Thank you, Mum, for... God, where do I start? You saved my life, Penny Warr. I love you. I love Dad. I wish he was here with us.’

Penny mouthed the words, He is. She’d been in tears from the moment Jack stood up, but now she was in full flow. Her hanky was out and she was soaking up the tears before they fell, so as to minimise the damage to her make-up.

Jack took a deep breath. ‘Everyone, I’d like to introduce you to my wife, Maggie Warr. I’ve wanted to say that since I was nineteen. To me, the name means love, safety and belonging. I hope it means the same to you, Mags.’ Jack said very little more. He didn’t need to. He handed the thank you gifts out to the bridesmaids and to Ridley, then the guests raised their glasses to the bride and groom.

Ridley could stand in front of every officer in the Met and deliver a faultless briefing. He could stand in front of the national press and give a word-perfect speech. But this... this was so much harder because it was personal. Ridley was the most mysterious man in the station, with a private life that no one knew anything about, and now he had to say how he felt. Beneath his immaculate black suit jacket, his armpits were wet, and he could feel sweat running down his spine. Ridley had tried and failed to prepare, so now he was winging it, which was something he’d never done before in his life.

‘I don’t know why Jack chose me to be his best man. Some of you would be able to tell hilarious stories from years ago — I can’t do that. Some of you will have spent holidays and leisure time with Jack — whereas I only work with him. In fact, I’m his boss.’ The excited anticipation of a hilarious stream of embarrassing anecdotes instantly vanished and an awkward silence settled on the room. ‘If best man means “oldest friend”, that’s not me. But I think that every now and then, someone comes into your life who has an impact that you didn’t see coming. They fill a gap you didn’t know was there. And they provide support you didn’t know you needed. That’s how Jack and I rub along together. As unexpected friends. So...’ Ridley raised his glass and the now captivated, obedient room did the same. Ridley’s simple honesty now had everyone in the palm of his rather sweaty hand. ‘Maggie... thank you for allowing me to step into your life. Jack... thank you for stepping into mine. I have never known such a perfect couple. To the bride and groom.’

As the room stood and repeated those words for the third and final time, every nurse who had swooned over Ridley at Hannah’s christening was right back in that moment. He hadn’t said much, and he hadn’t been remotely funny, but he’d made the biggest impact.

Ridley sat at a table with Laura and Anik, and six guests from Totnes. It wasn’t the table he was meant to be sitting at, but an old friend of Penny’s had arrived by herself and announced the recent death of her husband. Ridley had willingly given his seat to her so she could be with Penny, meaning that places got shuffled round and, somehow, he’d ended up at the back of the room.

It was an eight-seater table catering for nine, so was all far too intimate for Ridley’s liking. He also wasn’t feeling his best and had only eaten half of each plate put in front of him. As the occupations around the table ranged from hairdresser to accountant to estate agent, the three ‘coppers’ were clearly the most interesting people to talk about and everyone felt the need to confess their crimes: shoplifting, speeding, protesting. A large tattooed man boasted about attacking multiple policemen at a Wake. ‘Coppers was called to a bunfight once and I ended up lamping all six of ’em. Got a right slap on the wrist for that.’

Ridley figured that his evening wasn’t going to get much better than that, so he made his way outside to get a taxi home.

For the next three hours, the guests slowly thinned out as people got too tired or too drunk to stand up. At nine, Penny headed home with Hannah. And at ten, Jack and Maggie snuck out and headed off to the Soho Hotel.

The bridal suite was perfectly adorned with flowers in the same colour scheme as the wedding bouquets, with a rainbow of petals on the bed and a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket. As soon as they entered the room, Jack and Maggie leapt onto the bed, settled into the extraordinary number of feather pillows and FaceTimed Penny and Hannah. They were both in their pyjamas and Penny was nursing a mug of cocoa whilst Hannah played peek-a-boo behind the arm of the sofa. It was their special bedtime game because Penny didn’t have to move, and it wore Hannah out very nicely.

After a chaotic conversation with everyone talking over everyone else, but all saying the same thing — what an amazing wedding it was — Hannah brought the FaceTime to an end by gripping the arm of the sofa like a vice and straining so hard that her face went purple. ‘Oh, she’s making room for her bedtime milk,’ Penny joked as she gulped down the last of her cocoa. ‘That’s my cue to go. I love you both, have a wonderful couple of days away from real life, and I’ll see you on Monday.’

Once they’d hung up the phone, the large bridal suite fell silent. Jack and Maggie looked around at the immaculate room, where every detail had been considered and everything was geared towards man and wife not having to leave the room at all if they didn’t want to: room service dinner for two was included, and the contents of the mini-bar were free. They looked at each other and the weight of expectation made them giggle. Jack and Maggie, in unison, slid down in the bed so that, by the time they were comfortable, Maggie was lying on Jack’s chest, and he had his arm around her shoulder.

‘Do you know,’ Maggie said, ‘fifty-two per cent of newly married couples don’t have sex on their wedding night.’

Jack exhaled a silent laugh, making Maggie’s head bob on his chest. ‘Thank God for that.’ He kissed his new wife on the top of her head. ‘I love that that door over there isn’t our front door, so no one’s going to knock on it. I love that my mum and my daughter aren’t in the next room. I love that neither of us has got work tomorrow.’

Maggie turned on her side, so she could see Jack. ‘You know what I’d love to do?’ Jack grinned, knowing full well that she was about to suggest the most perfect way for them to spend their wedding night. ‘I’d love me and you to drink that bottle of champagne in a hot bubble bath. Then I’d love to order room service. You have surf and turf, I’ll have the beef lasagne, and we’ll go halves. For pudding, I’ll get pavlova, you get cheesecake. Then, I’d love to curl up in bed with you and watch a film that hasn’t been made by Disney. It’s got to have loads of swearing, violence and sex. And if we’re still awake, we can have a quickie before sleeping through the whole night undisturbed.’

Jack pulled Maggie closer. ‘God, I love you, Mrs Warr.’

Sunday was spent walking round London and taking the time to actually visit places that they’d walked past a thousand times. They made a pact before they left their hotel that they’d see one park, one museum, one total tourist trap, and then treat themselves to a very expensive lunch cooked by a Michelin star chef. Hyde Park became their first port of call, followed by the London Eye, followed by Tate Modern, and finally they spent a fortune on a snack at Skylon on the South Bank.

When they got back to their hotel, they were so exhausted that they set their alarm for 5 p.m. and settled down for an afternoon nap. Dinner on the second night wasn’t included in the wedding package, so they were slightly more reserved with the budget. After spending two hours eating and drinking, Jack led Maggie into the lift and pressed the button for the penthouse suite. As the lift politely announced each floor, Jack backed Maggie into the corner and kissed her. This was to be their last night together in a hotel before heading home. Everything suddenly felt illicit and exciting. The lift opened directly opposite their suite and, within seconds of entering, they were desperately undressing each other. Maggie fell back onto the plush mattress, Jack stood between her legs and, still half-dressed, they made frantic and noisy love, relishing the freedom to pant and moan as loudly as they wanted. It was over quickly, but that night, they woke and made love again.

Jack and Maggie returned home around ten, to the noise of Penny rifling through the pots and pans cupboard to find the one she needed. This racket was occasionally drowned out by the equally horrendous noise of a high-pitched American voice singing ‘Baby Shark’, and Hannah screaming along. Jack kissed Maggie. ‘Welcome home.’ Then he took their suitcase upstairs whilst she braved the kitchen chaos.

The day was spent with all four of them opening the rest of the gifts that had been piled up in the house for weeks, and any new ones which had been brought to the venue on the day of the wedding. Ridley and the team had bought an expensive set of six knives in a block. Penny particularly liked the fact that the back of the block doubled as a stand for a recipe book or for her iPhone.

In the early evening, their wedding photographer posted a USB stick through their letterbox with a handwritten note explaining that none of the images had yet been ‘touched up’, none of them were downloadable and all of them currently had his watermark plastered all over them. Basically, this was his polite way of saying that the images were impossible to steal. Maggie set up her laptop so the images from the USB displayed on their TV screen. Each image had a number in the bottom, right hand corner, so Penny designated herself as note-taker and, as they scrolled through, she jotted down the numbers of the photos they wanted printing. Maggie suggested they try to choose the best hundred.

An hour later, Penny was in the kitchen making a cup of tea, and Maggie and Hannah were both snoozing next to Jack on the sofa. He was now the one in charge of jotting down the numbers of the images he considered worthy of printing. He was scrolling back through some of the group photos taken at the party, trying to find a nice one of all the hospital staff, because Maggie wanted to give Regina a print of her old work friends. The problem he was having was that these photos had been taken late in the day, so most included drunk police officers, or people purposefully disrupting the shot by doing rabbit-ears behind someone’s head or, worse, by flashing their arses.

Jack scrolled back to earlier in the day when people had still been sober. Outside the registry office, there were some lovely, posed shots where the photographer had put people together in groups around the bride and groom. Jack smiled at the fact that the hospital staff made for a far prettier bunch of human beings than the coppers!

As Jack scrolled through several similar images to try and find the best one, he noticed the same woman standing at the edge of each of the hospital group photos, half hidden behind the wall of the registry office... just watching. Jack would have put her down as a nosey passer-by if she hadn’t seemed so familiar to him.

He kept looking at her, allowing his mind to slowly find the memory he needed. Associated words popped into his mind, and he desperately tried to make sense of them: tall... long black hair... horses... children — no, not just children: orphans.

Julia Lawson!

The name hit him like a ton of bricks. Julia Lawson was one of the women who committed the biggest train robbery the UK had ever seen and, decades later, she’d finally got away with millions in cash. Because of him. He let her go. He let them all go. Not only that, but he also accepted some of the stolen cash and used it to buy the house they were now sitting in. Jack could hardly breathe, his rapid heart palpitations making him physically shake. He jumped up without waking anyone and grabbed himself a brandy which he drank far too quickly, the alcohol burning all the way down to his stomach. Julia Lawson. Julia Lawson...

Julia Lawson was one of the few people alive who could bring Jack’s world crashing down and put him behind bars. He had to find out why she was back. And why she was watching him.