Picking up her bag and coat, Hilary was slow to surrender her seat. The tiny theatre had just one tier above the stalls, and these were not the cheap seats by any means. The circle had been transformed into an exclusive VIP area, with plush upholstery, generous leg room, and waiting service no less. The series of function rooms to the rear were still under renovation, but would eventually provide a high dining experience to theatregoers with deep pockets. Hilary would be happy enough with the nip of whisky she had promised herself in the second half, but the night wasn’t turning out as she had anticipated. At least for the half hour she had been able to watch her dancers onstage, they hadn’t put a foot wrong.

Although the circle was full, it had less than a hundred seats and wouldn’t take long to clear. There were two stairwells, one that led to the foyer at the front of the Empress, the other to an exit at the side, according to the usher. Rose led the way and opted for the latter, which was generally being ignored. The theatre was at the end of a row of buildings and everyone knew that the alleyway at the side was dark and dank, but fewer people meant less chance of misplacing a student. Good choice, thought Hilary. She would be leaving her school in good hands.

‘Miss, miss!’ cried a student just as Hilary was leaving the circle. It was seven-year-old Jack. It was always Jack. The child had exceptional promise, but he was too easily distracted. ‘I left my coat.’

Hilary looked over her shoulder. There was no one behind them and it would take no time to go back. ‘Fine, show me where you left it. Quickly now,’ she added sternly.

For theatregoers in the cramped stalls below, the evacuation wasn’t as smooth as it was for their privileged counterparts. The venue had been open for less than a month and was crammed with curious locals eager for their first glimpse inside the art deco building. It had taken two years to return the Empress to its original purpose, but nine-year-old Amelia Parker had no interest in the sympathetic restoration of gilded plasterwork and polished veneers. She had come to see her best friend perform. Evie was the white rabbit.

Amelia’s mum had been looking forward to it too, but twenty-five minutes into the performance, Kathryn Parker had been jiggling in her seat.

‘Sorry, love, I need to nip to the loo,’ she had whispered. She had been drinking cranberry juice all day, but it hadn’t helped. ‘Do you want to come with me?’

Amelia had been mortified. What if Evie spotted them getting up from their seats? ‘No way,’ she had said.