Leaving the car with the engine running, she hurried across a track pitted with potholes to unlock the gate. It was almost seven o’clock and the sky had turned a sapphire blue, with purple cloud that absorbed the last of the sun’s warmth. At least it hadn’t rained today and there were no puddles to dodge.

Leanne searched for the right key from a set attached to a large cork ball hanging from a rope. It had been a present from her best friend; a moving-in gift when Leanne had arrived at Raven Brook Marina four years ago in a car filled with all her worldly goods and a vague plan of how to get her life back on track.

‘What’s this for?’ she had asked when her friend gave her the odd-looking key ring that was the size of a clementine.

‘The cork stops your keys from sinking if you drop them in the water. I was hoping they did bigger ones in case we fall in the canal on our way home from the pub, which is exactly what we’ll be doing tonight. Going to the pub that is, not the bit about falling in.’

‘Mum thinks we should wear life jackets permanently.’

‘I’ll keep you safe,’ Lois said. ‘Promise.’

It had never occurred to Leanne to say it back. From the moment they had met during Freshers’ Week, Lois Granger had made it her mission to take care of those around her. She was the go-to friend whenever there was trouble, and it was natural that Leanne had gone to her when her life had taken a nosedive. It was Lois’s idea for Leanne to buy a boat with the money she had made from her flat in Leeds, and it went without saying that Lois would become her lodger.

They had visions of travelling up and down the country and had gone as far as to plan a boat trip to the Peak District and another along the Llangollen Canal and over the Pontcysyllte Aqueduct. The only journey Leanne had plotted recently was a marathon trek to London, for when she landed that scoop and was flooded with job offers from the national press. Technically, she could go anywhere she wanted, if she wanted.

The gate shuddered as Leanne opened it wide enough for the car to get through, then she did everything in reverse until the gate was locked again. It was easier if there were two people, but Leanne was getting used to being on her own and, as she went through the motions, her thoughts moved seamlessly from Lois, to the Empress, to Claudia Rothwell.

Two days had passed since the interview, but Leanne was yet to write a single word for Saturday’s issue. The headline, however, had written itself.

‘Secret Agony of a Very Public Tragedy’.