Claudia had only told Declan about her mum because he had been droning on about how difficult his childhood had been. She had wanted to trump his absent father with an absent mother, and it had been liberating to talk about it. Declan had understood why she had felt the need to reimagine her past. He shared the sense of rejection and the shame too. He knew what it was like to feel not good enough.

Justin had no similar point of reference. His childhood had been blissfully uneventful and he would have been appalled by her tale of desertion and neglect. A dead mother and a father debilitated by grief had been far more palatable, for both of them.

Declan on the other hand, had embraced the imperfections in his life. He wasn’t afraid to mess up and had messed up spectacularly on occasion, but he carried on regardless. Claudia didn’t doubt that he would celebrate her mistakes too and, as his hand explored the subtle rise of her belly, she knew he had worked out that her latest was one they had made together.

‘Oh, my sweet Claudia,’ he said. ‘I promise you here and now, I’ll never leave you.’

Her life had felt uncomfortably crowded back then, so how had she ended up so alone? Where was Declan when she needed him? She consoled herself with the knowledge that their secret had died with him, although when Karin had first confronted her, there had been a moment when she thought she had been found out. She had worried for nothing. Declan’s loyalties had been with Claudia right to the end. It was unfortunate that not all her mistakes were dead and buried.

Stretching a hand across the damask, she picked up Amelia’s drawing. From Leanne’s swagger when she had handed it over, Claudia had expected it to reveal more than she would like, but it was a poorly executed sketch, with no detail.

Lifting the sheet of paper to examine the figure holding the child, Claudia allowed herself a brief twinge of guilt for taking credit where it wasn’t due. She had seen Amelia’s limp body and was surprised the paramedics gave her any chance at all. If it had been Claudia who had stumbled upon the girl, she would have left her where she found her. But it wasn’t Claudia making those decisions. It was the woman with the silver pendant and that damned key ring torch.

They should rename Leanne Pitman, Leanne Pitbull. Claudia hadn’t realised the reporter’s friend had died in the fire until Phillipa mentioned it. It made sense now why she had become so obsessed, but she had to give up eventually. Didn’t she?