The feature Justin had read out to Claudia that morning had been vomit-inducing. It had set out a convincing argument to hail Phillipa for her past achievements, envy her for her happy marriage, sympathise with her for the guilt she would always carry and, most controversially, to forgive her.

Claudia had checked the online version later in the day, hoping to find a torrent of abuse in the comments section, but the piece had been well received, not least because it had been written by Leanne Pitman, trusted champion of Sedgefield. It would seem that the reporter and Phillipa had joined forces, and it didn’t take much of an imagination to work out who they were gunning for. Claudia’s attempt at misdirection had backfired spectacularly.

‘It was good to read something positive for once,’ Phillipa said, ‘but we shouldn’t forget how fickle the press can be. They raise you up as a hero one minute, and rip you to shreds the next.’ Turning to Claudia, she added, ‘You need to be very careful, my dear. You could be next.’

‘Now if that happened, I’d lose all faith in the world,’ said Robert, clearly not privy to the subtext of the discussion.

‘Thank you, Robert, but I agree with Phillipa. I for one would rather keep the press at arm’s length. If they can exploit a situation, they will. And they do like to play us off against each other.’

‘It’s a sad truth,’ replied Phillipa. ‘All it takes is one reporter holding a grudge to make our lives a misery, and Leanne Pitman falls into that category, I’m afraid. She lost her best friend in the fire and, while I’d say she’s finished with me, her crusade is far from over.’ Despite the dire warning, Phillipa’s eyes sparkled with delight. ‘It won’t matter that you saved a little girl’s life, the likes of Leanne will want to know how you dared to make a profit from it.’

‘I’ve never taken a penny,’ Claudia said, aware that she and Phillipa had entered a weird game of cat and mouse, where both wanted to be the cat. ‘Even the payments I received for my interviews went straight to the memorial fund.’

‘I wasn’t talking about financial benefits, but surely you’ve profited in other ways,’ suggested Phillipa. Sensing the restlessness around the table, she quickly added, ‘Not that I, or any of your friends see it that way, but in my experience, you have to be especially careful when it comes to public perception, or else you’ll be accused of having inappropriate affiliations.’ She wrinkled her nose to ensure the idea sounded particularly seedy. ‘I always made sure never to be caught with a pen or a notepad that had a business logo on it.’