When her phone vibrated, Leanne wasn’t surprised when she saw it was from a withheld number. She connected the call, knowing what would happen next.

‘Hello?’

The line went dead. It was the fifth such call in three days.

Leanne had a block on cold calls and she had dismissed the possibility of a nuisance caller, who would surely choose an indecent hour to unnerve her. She couldn’t be absolutely sure it wasn’t Claudia getting her own back, but the put-downs had started soon after she had spoken to Beth, and it didn’t feel like a coincidence. Leanne had left her with some serious doubts to wrestle with, and if Beth was coming to the same conclusions as Leanne, today would hopefully provide the incontrovertible proof that had evaded the reporter so far.

Sipping her gin, Leanne scanned the crowded pub, concentrating on the female guests in particular. She didn’t see Joe until he dropped a catalogue onto the low table in front of her.

‘Jesus,’ she said. Gin had slopped onto her hand and she sucked it up before it dribbled onto her grey hoodie.

‘I thought you might want some company,’ he said, unapologetically.

Although Joe had become a useful sounding board, she hadn’t invited him on her latest quest for good reason. She scrutinised his face, feeling his panic rise up inside her too. ‘Are you sure you want to be here?’

Joe kept his eyes on Leanne and only Leanne. ‘As long as you don’t freak me out by drawing attention to the fact that this should freak me out, I’ll be fine.’

‘OK,’ she said warily. ‘So what’s this?’ She pulled the shopping catalogue towards her, giving Joe something to concentrate on other than the crowd ebbing and flowing around them.

‘Inspiration,’ Joe said. ‘Why don’t you have a flick through while I get a pint? Do you want anything?’

‘Do you want me to go?’

‘Nope,’ he said, his gaze fixed.

‘Then I’d love another gin.’

By the time Joe returned with their drinks, Leanne had the catalogue open at the jewellery section.

‘Anything take your fancy?’ he asked, as if she were choosing a present.

The two pages on view offered a range of pendants in differing styles, but all on the same theme. They were initials. Some in gold, some silver, and some had embellishments. Leanne tapped a finger on the image of a silver chain with the letter V hanging from a loop. ‘This one’s closest,’ she said. ‘The font was definitely sans serif.’

‘And in English?’ asked the gas engineer.

‘The lettering was a bold block type. No squiggly lines.’

Joe peered at the description beneath the photo. ‘Wouldn’t it be better if we put this off until we can buy one with the right letter? I’m sure we could get a refund once we’ve finished with it.’