Greg sat in the back of a cab watching the familiar landmarks of LA pass by as he headed home. He looked down at his neatly bandaged wrist and wondered, among other minor injuries, mostly caused by Amy, how on earth was he going to explain things to his wife? A smile forced itself across his face as he imagined the conversation: “What, pumpkin? Oh that? That was caused by shards of glass when I had to escape a sinking car. Why was I doing that? We were being chased by blood-hungry gang members. You know what it’s like. You go on tour, get drugged and kidnapped, end up fearing for your life after being run off the road.”

“Been on holiday?” the cab driver suddenly piped up in what Greg decided was surprisingly good English.

“Initially, yes,” Greg replied.

“Have a shit time?” the cab driver continued.

“What are you, my mother? An international spy? The press maybe?” Greg countered.

“Have you ever been to Honolulu?” the driver asked as he went into an entire explanation of his last holiday. This included his wife getting stung by a jellyfish on her arse, how five of his seven kids nearly drowned, and he went into great length about a weird fungus that started growing on the soles of his feet. Greg let his mind drift back to the important things, like the precise lies he had to tell his wife, and the list of notes he’d written to tell his therapist about.

“Is that you?” the cab driver asked, not bothering to look as he turned a corner.

“Is what me?” Greg asked confused before he realised the cell phone he’d picked up in Edinburgh was ringing. Some bastard had changed his ringtone to a dueling banjos theme.

“Fucking McDermott,” he grumbled as he pulled it out of his backpack. He’d missed the call but there was voicemail. Greg dialled the number and listened to the robotic voice.

The time is 3:30pm, you have one new voice message…Thought you’d seen the end of me, huh? Didn’t think I’d be back. Thought your little slut had seen the end of me. Then you and your friends and that – traitor – Don wanted you dead…

Greg switched his phone off. He had no desire to hear anymore. Even though the voice was wired and frantic, he knew it was Amy, and he had no desire to run into her anytime soon. The moment of absolute terror subsided when he realised he was in LA, engulfed in its mass of buildings and throngs of people. She’d never find him there; she’d never find any of them.

“And there’s nothing I can do to change your mind?” Paul pouted and gave Gina the most pathetic look he could muster.

“Sorry monkey butt. I can’t just walk out of the best job I’ve ever had,” Gina sighed. She was beginning to feel like she spent most of her times at airports saying goodbye to Paul. This time was going to be different though; she was determined about that.

“You are gonna hand in your notice though? I mean, you weren’t just lying to make me feel better?”

“You were being pretty pathetic.”

“I told you, there was something in my eye,” a smile crept onto Paul’s lips. “You are coming back to me this time though, aren’t you?”

“A month at the most, two weeks at the earliest,” she nodded. “Unless Brian offers me thousands more pounds and I’m swept off my feet by some gorgeous guy with a Porsche.”

“You’d leave me for a guy with a Matchbox car?”

“Idiot,” she giggled, wrapping him tightly in her arms. “Promise me you’ll not find a girlfriend while I’m gone.”

“After Freya? Are you mad? I’m staying well away from the dating scene.” Their lips edged closer together and were almost touching when the boarding call was announced. “No!” Paul whined.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” she soothed, although her entire body was screaming not to let him go, or alternatively to stow away with him.

They shared a quick intense kiss before he reluctantly pulled himself away. He slung his backpack over a shoulder. “Later my pot smoking, pancake making, freaky love making queen,” he declared in an attempt to look cheerful as he headed to the departure doors, waving one of Troy’s paws at her.

“Idiot,” she mumbled and started walking away without looking back.

Gina wiped tears from her eyes as she stepped outside into the pelting London rain. Her attention was caught by the beeping of “We Will Rock You” on a car horn.

“Need a lift?” Danny called as he wound down the window a little, the raindrops splattering his face. Gina darted over to the car and slid into the passenger seat.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, wiping the wet patches from her face.

“I thought you might want company.”

“Thanks,” she smiled. “How are you? I haven’t seen you in days?”

“Well, after drinking myself stupid and sleeping countless hours, I think I’m finally over the worst of the trauma.”

“Yeah, it does ease,” Gina nodded as she changed the radio station from the terrible one Danny had chosen.

“I hope so. I did find an upside to everything though.”

“What? What could possibly be good?”

“I got to get in the sack with Fen, in that underwear, before Brad,” Danny said with a cheeky grin.

“That’s the most vengeful thing I’ve ever heard,” Gina gasped.

“No, that’ll come after I get fired for allegedly cavorting in Spain with a model,” he scorned.

“Least I didn’t say you were fighting with your boyfriend Lars.”

Danny looked at Gina who was looking back innocently, a smile spread across his face and they both cracked up.

“Who cares, I want to go back to Oz anyway,” he perked.

“Does that make you Toto?” she asked.

“What? Huh…oh, oh…you can’t talk anymore…”

Ritza dropped her bag on the kitchen floor and let out a yawn. Things seemed nothing less than odd. Ella and Pete didn’t appear to be home, Mochrie hadn’t let out a peep, and Gus didn’t appear to be around. She was pleased to hear the television on and headed for the living room. When she got there, she froze. Gus was sitting on the floor scribbling with crayons.

“Marco,” Ritza breathed.

“MUMMY!” Gus squealed and raced over to his mother. He leapt into her arms and they shared a long hug.

“Someone had to look after the boy,” Marco, Gus’s father spat. “Where were you, huh?”

“Helping some friends. He was supposed to be with Ella.”

“Something came up, they’ve gone to LA. Lucky I was available,” Marco scowled.

“Well there’d be a first,” Ritza spat. “After what, four years, you decide to be part of his life.”

“A boy needs his father.”

“Gus doesn’t need you,” Ritza hissed as she protectively held her son. “Get out of my house.”

“I have a right to be here and to be part of his life.”

“Mummy, don’t make Daddy leave,” Gus pleaded, his eyes big and tearful. Had her hands not been busy holding him, Ritza would have punched a wall.

“Looks like our son has spoken,” Marco smiled wickedly.

“I am so, so glad to be home,” Fenny yawned as she held onto Brad’s arm as they stepped out of the elevator.

“I hope Jenna fed Jag. I mean she might have gone off a week ago to curl her hair, and Jag could be an emaciated shell of his former self,” Brad jeered, although he was being quite serious.

“I’m sure it’ll be…” Fenny’s voice trailed off. “Is that Ella and Pete?”

Brad looked up and noticed the harassed looking couple waiting outside his and Fenny’s apartment. “I can understand them having Lilly, but what on earth is Moch doing here?”

“I’ll use my ESP and mind, read shall I?” Fenny groused.

“You don’t even know what ESP is?”

“I do, extra special powers,” Fenny replied, amusing herself before her mood dropped as they reached Ella and Pete.

“Daddy!” Lilly squeaked as she wrapped her arms around Brad’s legs.

“Hey princess,” Brad smiled and he pulled her into his arms. “What brings you guys to LA?” he asked. Fenny meanwhile had noticed there seemed to be a couple of suitcases sitting at the door as well.

“I’ve tried Brad, I really have, but Lilly, she just wants to be with you,” Ella declared, obviously close to tears. “Don’t get me wrong, I love her to bits, but it’s so hard when she won’t let Pete near her. I think it’s best if she comes to live with you. I’ll visit, without Pete, all the time.”

“Ella, I don’t know what to say,” Brad flustered.

“No, say no,” Fenny muttered to herself.

“It’s clear she’d be much happier with you,” Pete declared. “And Mochrie, she loves that dog.”

“No, please, no,” Fenny sobbed into Brad’s arm, her words thankfully muffled.

“You want to live with Daddy?” Brad asked, looking at the small, dark haired girl in his arms.

“YES!” Lilly replied with more enthusiasm than Fenny was happy with. “And Mochie,” she giggled.

“It’s Mochrie,” Fenny corrected automatically.

“Mochie,” Lilly pouted.

“You want to say goodbye to Mommy?” Brad asked.

Lilly looked over at her mother and waved before gripping onto her father again. Fenny felt every hope she’d ever had, and there were few, open a window and commit suicide. She’d vowed never to be Lilly’s stepmother, and as she had often suspected, that was exactly what had just happened. Not only that, but now she had to share the apartment with a damn dog as well.

They said goodbye to Ella and Pete as Fenny unlocked the apartment. Mochrie bolted inside and straight onto the couch where she took to chewing a magazine. Jaguar, who had been perched at the window, took off, knocking over several framed photographs, and to top it off Lilly grabbed an expensive art book and then knocked an abandoned coffee cup, complete with cold coffee, over it.

“Isn’t it great to be home?” Brad perked as he brought the suitcases inside.

“Do you think the extension cord on the toaster is long enough for me to drop it in the bath?” Fenny groaned.

Paul settled into his squishy economy class seat after arguing with a stewardess about Troy, who was eventually shoved into the overhead locker. He fastened his seatbelt and looked out the window at the miserable British evening he was leaving. Paul knew he should feel jovial. After the week he’d had it was a miracle he was alive. The promise of the warm Australian sun was also a more than pleasant vision to look forward to. None of it seemed to matter though, since he’d once again be going to home to an empty apartment, a lonely bed and a cat with abandonment issues. He had the sudden desire to run screaming out of the plane and back to Gina, but knew she’d probably just tell him off. The stewardess reappeared and offered him a pair of headphones which he gladly accepted and took to fiddling about, trying to plug them into the little hole on the armrest.

“Oh my god, what a coincidence.”

Paul looked up, “Dear god, no.”

“Who would have thought? Us sitting together,” Freya perked as she placed her bag in the overhead locker. “All the way to Australia.”

“Yeah, who would have thought…” Paul mumbled, a pained expression already on his face.

“Gina not with you?” Freya asked as she opened a glossy magazine.

“Yeah, she’s in the overhead locker. Someone had to watch Troy,” Paul replied sarcastically.

“Shame,” Freya smiled demurely. “Did I ever tell you I’m a nervous flyer. If this thing even so much as jolts, I’ll seriously grab onto anything…”

Paul gave her a weak smile, crossed his legs and focussed his attention back out of the window. His only hope next to finding a pair of red sparkly shoes was that if he wished hard enough she might just disappear. Why wasn’t life like The Wizard of Oz?

It was hot in Majorca. Stifling, depressing humidity, and for a man the size of Beven, like hell in a hand basket. He sat hunched at the bar, his pale skin on show as he sported a terrible pair of shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. The fruity drink in front of him did nothing to quell his anxiety. Don was dead, the master of all the shit in his life gone. The weight seemed gone from his shoulders, a feeling he’d waited for for so long. Yeah, Don McIver was gone, and as soon as the heat died down, Beven was going back to London and collecting his son, and they were getting the hell out of there. They’d start new some place, anywhere they liked. For the first time in years, Beven was close to happy, truly happy because the circle of violence was over. He took another drink and the paper umbrella poked his cheek. Yeah, it was almost a happy fairytale ending. The good guys won…hadn’t they?