Violet and Jo were waiting when Ali walked back through the blood unit doors. Violet was standing, hands clasped in front of her, the ragged edges of a tissue visible between her fingers.
“Alasdair,” she whispered.
Ali shook his head.
“Ali!” Jo said. “You can’t—”
“I can do,” Ali interrupted, “whatever I want. It’s done. Now I’m going home.” He firmly kept his hands in his pockets, not wanting to reach for Yazid’s in front of them and show a crack in his armour. Not now, and not ever again. Not to them. “That’s it. I’m going to get on with my life like none of this ever happened. I don’t want to hear about it ever again, or about him, or even about you. That was the condition. Now I’m done.”
“Condition?” Jo echoed blankly. “Mum, what’s he talking about?”
“You’ll change your mind,” Vio
