The instant Hook slams the jeep door he feels safe, self-contained. After taking a couple of snorts of powder he catches his breath, composes himself, and points the bonnet at Canary Wharf. He’s been between cars since Monica’s mother’s unhappy demise, but night-driving brings back memories of Shelley as a horrors-haunted toddler back at the old house. When she woke screaming at night Hook strapped his daughter in the booster seat of the old Mondeo and drove from the slightly bruised Cally down through the 24-hour bustle of the lit-up and prosperous Angel streets to the empty City, playing Mary Coughlan or Grace Jones to help her sleep.
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