The Choice. Kerry Barnes

      ‘You really like Zara, don’t ya?’

      Ricky blushed. ‘Yeah, I do. She’s ace, ya know.’ He held up his wrist. ‘She gave me this gold bracelet with BRAVE engraved on it … I wish she’d been my mum, instead of Jackie.’

      Arty noticed a sadness creeping over Ricky’s face. ‘Was she really as wicked as they said she was?’

      With a deep breath, Ricky replied, ‘The truth is, Arty, me ol’ man only knows part of it. If he knew the full extent of what she put me through, he would kill her. Not that her death would be on me conscience, but the risk of me dad going back to prison would. I fucking hate her.’

      Arty didn’t press for details. He could tell that whatever it was that Ricky had endured it had been cruel at the very least, and the expression on Ricky’s face suddenly changed from a soft, sweet, schoolboy look to one of Mike Regan’s in a rage. Those piercing pearl-grey eyes dulled, and his brows knitted together.

      ‘Well, let’s try and treat this as a bit of a break. We’ll soak up the rays, have a dip in the pool, and shop.’

      Ricky laughed. ‘Shopping? What are ya? A girl?’

      Arty screwed his nose up. ‘And so, Ricky, me ol’ son, are you gonna wash out ya smalls every day, then?’

      Ricky rolled his eyes. ‘Point taken, mate.’

      As the plane changed its course, the boys knew that they were not far away from their destination. Arty glanced over at his friend and realized what the problem was. Ricky was worried about the impending descent and the effect this would have on his ears. Ricky had discussed this with Arty on the flight, telling him that as they descended there would be a corresponding change in air pressure that would send sharp pains around his tender scars where the doctors had operated on his brain to stop the bleeds.

      By one o’clock in the afternoon, the aircraft began its descent. Arty panicked as he watched the agony on Ricky’s face. He pulled him close and covered his friend’s hands with his own, trying to help with the pain. Ricky was sweating profusely, and Arty was attempting to comfort him.

      ‘Suck on these sweets.’ He handed Ricky a few sherbet lemons. ‘See, I said we’d take care of you. Fuck me, I should ’ave been a nurse.’

      Wasting no time, Ricky began sucking on the sweets until he felt his ears pop and the pressure begin to release. The colour then came back to his cheeks. ‘Christ, I thought for a minute I was going to have another haemorrhage.’

      ‘Don’t say that. Jesus, you had me sweating for a minute.’

      As the plane landed, Arty looked for his passport and phone in among the safety leaflets and magazines stuffed in the pouch of the seat in front of him. Then his attention was diverted to two men roughly the same age as himself, who were making disparaging remarks regarding Liam and the two girls. At first, he thought he had misheard, until one of the cheeky bastards laughed.

      ‘Cor, I bet he thought all his Christmases had come at once, sitting between two lookers.’

      The other young man, now in on the joke, replied, ‘No, mate. I bet the girls thought all their Halloweens had come at once.’

      Arty looked over at Liam who must have just caught the end of their joke. Instead of looking ready for a punch-up, he actually appeared hurt. Clocking Liam’s gutted expression instantly had Arty gunning for the opinionated bastards. He watched the passengers all shuffling, ready to get their bags together, and then he noticed Ricky’s bottle of water still in the pouch. He smiled to himself, retrieved the full bottle, and unscrewed the lid. As the two men fiddled with the overhead lockers, Arty tapped one on the shoulder. ‘Is that my bag, mate?’ he asked. As the guy turned to face him, he stared him straight in the eyes and poured the contents of the bottle down the front of his trousers. Arty stepped back. With a voice a little louder than necessary, he said, ‘Er, mate, you should’ve used the toilets. A bit too old to piss yaself, ain’t ya?’

      The young man glared and then looked down at his light-coloured chinos. Sure enough, it did look like he’d wet himself. Then he spotted the bottle in Arty’s hand. ‘Why, you fucking shit!’

      Ricky and Liam were now laughing very loudly, and they were joined by Poppy and Brooke. The furious man looked across at the group and decided it was best to keep his mouth shut.

      Poppy leaned into Liam, feeling sorry for him, and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Will you help me up, Liam?’ she asked, in her sweetest voice.

      Liam looked over at the angry man and grinned. ‘’Course I will, my babe.’ Then he returned the kiss. Inside, he was elated. His pretty bird had gone out of her way to make a public show of affection for him and he felt a million dollars. Not many women would have done that: most would have edged away.

      Brooke, however, was impressed with how Arty had managed the situation, and a sense of excitement ran through her. She wasn’t used to men who could handle themselves. All the boys that she’d dated in the past were proper geeks and would run away from any confrontation.

      As Liam helped Poppy, and Arty did likewise with Ricky, they made their way through the terminal. Once they were outside, Liam spotted Terrence.

      Terrence, a tall man, dressed in beige linen trousers and a white casual shirt, was leaning against a Bentley stretch limo. He looked fit and well, with a tan that set off his white hair and blue eyes. In his late sixties now, Terrence had once worked for Arthur Regan, Mike and Eric’s father. He was only a kid back then but soon got in with the firm and joined them on two heists that made him a mint. They called him Terrence The Skid because he could handle any vehicle and was their top getaway driver. He was fearless behind the wheel of a car and could easily outrun the police, having done it many a time. He wisely invested his money in property and prudently made friends with the local Spanish mayor. Now with two restaurants and a nightclub to his name, Terrence was going straight, except for the fact that he took a significant cut in any drugs that were sold on his premises.

      As soon as he saw Arty and Liam, he pushed himself away from the car and walked over with his arms outstretched to hug the boys. Arty was first to embrace the man, followed by Liam, and then Terrence turned to look at Ricky. Arty knew that once Terrence clapped eyes on him, he would get emotional.

      Ricky grinned as his vague memories of Terrence came flooding back like a film. Visions of Terrence teaching him to dive, when he was six years old, flashed through his mind.

      ‘Fuck me, ’ave I missed you. Come ’ere and give ya Uncle Skid a hug.’

      Ricky fell into his arms and allowed the man to hold him for more than the customary two seconds for a greeting embrace.

      Arty and Liam smiled at each other as they both noticed the tears welling up.

      ‘Look at ya! I would’ve recognized you anywhere. You’re like ya grandfarver was back in the day. It’s good to have you back, my boy.’

      Ricky’s cheeks glowed. ‘And it’s good to see you too, Uncle Skid.’

      ‘Terrence, I need to get some clobber, mate. We didn’t have time to pack,’ said Arty, itching to get some new clothes.

      ‘Arty, just get in the motor, will ya? We can’t hang about, fella. I’ve been given strict instructions to get you to a safe villa. It’s me new drum that not a single soul knows about, including me missus.’

      Poppy and Brooke were now smiling. They both knew that this was another world. Of course, they’d watched the gorgeous tough guy Vinnie Jones in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels – but that was pure theatre! The way this man and Ricky’s dad and his friends spoke and acted, though, with their flash cars and their serious demeanour and urgency, was altogether a different ballgame. And it was cool.

      The excitement of seeing Ricky again had caused Terrence to take his eye off the ball. He didn’t notice the unsuspecting tatty car following them. Even as he weaved about along the winding roads into the mountains, he still didn’t see the red