Appearing satisfied, Justin resumed reading the newspaper, leaving his wife to fret. She had just reached the point where she had stopped waiting for Leanne to make her move, and now she had to worry about Phillipa’s potential resurgence. Claudia tried not to huff as she picked up her mobile and slipped into the sitting room to make a call. If Justin couldn’t give her the reassurance she needed, she would try someone else.

Bryony must have heard the news by now, but when Claudia tried to call her, she didn’t answer. Was she too busy stalking Phillipa? There would inevitably be a long line of Sedgefield’s finest offering to build bridges and, knowing Bryony, she would push her way to the front of the queue. How long would it take for her to entice Phillipa back to the spa, just like the old times? Would she offer insider knowledge on Claudia as a bargaining chip? Would they laugh at her attempts to dethrone the queen of good causes?

Claudia told herself she was being paranoid. Whatever Phillipa and her minion were up to, it didn’t change the fact that Claudia remained in a position of power. The outcome of the public inquiry hadn’t changed that. Or had it?

18

Leanne was sitting on a leather chesterfield sofa in a quiet corner of the Bridgewater Inn, which wasn’t going to be quiet for long. It was Saturday evening and the place would be rammed in a couple of hours. She checked her watch. There was plenty of time to numb the pain, and she looked forward to self-medicating on several gin and tonics.

When Frankie returned from the bar, Leanne took one of the fish-bowl glasses. The chesterfield cushions creaked and ice cubes clinked as Frankie sat down next to her. Her friend tucked her legs beneath her and rested an arm on the back of the sofa so the two reporters were mirroring each other. Leanne would be returning to work on Monday, and this was her gentle reintroduction to the workplace.

‘Is this where you used to come with Lois?’ Frankie asked.

Hearing her friend’s name spoken out loud in the place where it had once been yelled across the room, whispered conspiratorially, and even sung on occasions, made Leanne’s heart bleed, and yet she smiled. ‘We came here more times than I care to remember, or should I say, more times than I can actually remember,’ she said. ‘Oh, Frankie, I miss her so much. She should be here.’

Frankie sipped her drink, leaving her friend to fill the silence. Leanne should know better than to fall for the trick she often used herself.

‘Someone should have looked after her. Joe was right there and he did nothing. How come he got out and she didn’t?’