Stretching her spine, Leanne glanced up at the roof of the tunnel. The light reflecting from the boat’s headlights picked up faded graffiti on the brickwork. Was that Claudia’s name? Leanne blinked and it was gone, but she had a feeling that woman would haunt her for a very long time. The Claudia Rothwell story had given Leanne the scoop she had been longing for, and there had been a flurry of job offers. The one that had taken her fancy was in television, and that was why she was relocating to Salford where she had already secured a new mooring. It wasn’t as close to home as her mum would like, but Leanne had gone back to Leeds for Christmas and had promised to make regular return visits.

Leanne would return to Sedgefield too, although she might avoid the high street. The Empress had been boarded up for over eighteen months and remained an open sore. Some would like to see it torn down, but there was talk of a second restoration. Bryony Sutherland was putting together a proposal, and Leanne tried not to have a view on the subject. Her crusade was over. She was leaving behind small-town politics.

With two weeks to kill until she was due to start her new job, Leanne had one last assignment to complete for the Courier. Mal had accepted her resignation on the condition that she deliver that personal piece he had been urging her to write. It wasn’t enough for him that she had reported on events that had involved her personally, he wanted her to express her innermost feelings, and so, with the echo of the boat’s engine thudding against the arched walls, she began to compose her final article, albeit in her head.

Bravery doesn’t come with a cape, but it does have a mask of sorts. It hides undetected until we are placed in extraordinary circumstances and find ourselves doing extraordinary things, and I’m not talking about racing into a burning building, or jumping into icy waters. It’s having the courage to face what comes next. It’s the parent who buries their child, the spouse who takes over the role of two parents, the teacher who encourages her students to dance on, and the friends who gather around a table with one empty seat. It’s these small acts of bravery that are often the hardest – the carrying on when you are very much aware of what you have left behind.

Leanne’s eyes stung as she emerged into the light and at first she didn’t recognise the figures on the bank, not least because she was temporarily distracted by the collection of helium balloons with good luck messages on them. She began to laugh, just in case any other emotions dared to make an appearance.