And so it was that when the alarm had sounded and the curtain came down, Amelia was on her own. Her mum had instructed her to seek out Evie’s mum if there was a problem, but she was a few rows in front and had hurried off in the direction of the stage as soon as the evacuation started. Amelia checked behind her, hoping to find her mum in as much of a rush to retrieve her daughter. The aisle was filled with people she didn’t recognise.

‘We need to leave, sweetie,’ a woman said. She was struggling to squeeze past Amelia, who had gripped the arms of her seat. ‘Come with us.’

‘I have to wait for my mum.’

The wrinkles crisscrossing the woman’s brow deepened as she looked from Amelia to the young girl whose hand she was holding, her granddaughter presumably. Her husband was bringing up the rear and muttered under his breath as someone shoved him from behind, almost knocking the box of popcorn out of his hand. People were getting impatient.

‘Leave her be, love,’ the man said. ‘Her mum will know where to find her if she stays where she is, isn’t that right?’

Amelia nodded and, although she retreated into the aisle to let people pass, she stayed close to where her mum would expect to find her.

At the rear of the stalls where the growing mass of theatregoers was deepest, Lois Granger caught her boyfriend smirking. Ballet wasn’t Joe’s kind of thing, especially when performed by a bunch of school kids, and she knew that once they were outside, he would drag her to the sports bar further down the high street. She wouldn’t put up much resistance. The idea of a ballet production of Alice in Wonderland had sounded so much better in theory.

‘You can use the side exits to the left and right of the stage!’ a staff member called out, but the crowd swarming around Lois was impenetrable. They would have to stay put, but that was fine. Leaving through the foyer meant a shorter walk to the bar.

Hilary found Jack’s coat shoved under his seat and, as she helped him shrug into it, she felt a shower of grit rain down onto her head. Her nose wrinkled as she looked up. The ceiling was rippling. Hilary blinked hard, thinking her cataract operation couldn’t come soon enough, but with a single thump of her heart she realised the problem wasn’t her eyesight. There was a roiling layer of dense smoke spreading like an ocean across the ornate ceiling.

‘Sweet lord,’ she said, grabbing Jack by the hood of his padded coat.

‘Miss! That’s hurt—’

Hearing the crack and splinter of rafters above her head, Hilary gave Jack an almighty shove. ‘Run!’ she screamed.