The youngest victim had been sixteen, the oldest seventy-one. Each person had their place in the world stolen, leaving a gaping hole that couldn’t be papered over with column inches and special edition newspapers. Why did Lois have to be on that list? Leanne’s insides twisted. Mal had been right to ask Frankie to write the victim pieces. Leanne couldn’t do it. She had avoided Lois’s family since the funeral. She was a coward.

Aware that Amelia and her mum were watching the emotion play out on her face, Leanne clenched her jaw. ‘So,’ she said, eyes narrowed, composure restored, ‘do you think you could tell me what happened when the alarm went off? How did you become separated from your mum?’

‘She had to go to the Ladies. I was looking after our coats.’

‘It was a few minutes before the alarm sounded. I had a water infection,’ said Kathryn, needing to explain what pressing need had justified the abandonment of her child. ‘And Evie’s mum was only a few rows in front of us. I told Amelia to go to her if there were any problems, not that I thought there would be. It didn’t cross my mind that … I never imagined.’

Kathryn pressed her lips tightly together. She could say no more with Amelia sitting next to her.

‘When the alarm went off, everyone started pushing past me,’ Amelia said, continuing her story. ‘People kept telling me I had to leave, but I didn’t want to go.’ Her face scrunched up. ‘I had to wait for Mum, so I stayed by my seat.’

Leanne could picture the scene with the help of the footage she had found online. She had watched the initial evacuation with growing frustration. There had been no sense of urgency until the announcement came that the theatre had to be cleared. And even then, people took their time because they expected a second announcement to say the show could be resumed. In the handful of recordings that had continued beyond the moment when the ceiling collapsed and the lights went out, the subsequent footage revealed only jerky images of feet, and inky darkness. Theatregoers were no longer concerned with filming what had been a curious scene. They were fighting for their lives.

‘I was looking up at the ceiling. There was this figure of a woman stuck to it like a squished statue,’ Amelia said, keeping her eyes grounded on Leanne. Her breath had quickened as if she were afraid of what might be lurking above. ‘She came alive. Or I thought she did. Mum says it was probably the smoke making it look like she was moving. Then it went black.’

‘Could you hear anything?’

‘She means she was knocked unconscious,’ Kathryn said.

Amelia glanced at her mum, tears rimming her eyes.