‘I didn’t know whether to phone you,’ the woman began. ‘I said to my daughter, they won’t want to hear from the likes of me, but she said, “Mum, everyone who was trapped in that theatre has a story to tell, and you need to tell yours.” It was an awful, awful thing, but, if nothing else, it shows there are more good people in the world than bad.’

Leanne opened her mouth to reply, but the woman hadn’t finished.

‘Not that I’m claiming to be a hero or anything,’ she said, ‘but we all did our bit. I’d gone there on my own and, oh, I saw things that would break your heart. It’s burnt into my memory and I don’t say that to be funny. It’s true.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Leanne cut in when the caller drew breath. ‘Could you start by telling me who you are?’

‘Sorry, yes, I’m Mrs Brody, Carole Brody. It was my daughter who got in touch, but I thought I should be the one to speak to you.’

Leanne bent forward, intending to retrieve her notepad from her rucksack, which was lying on the ground, but she straightened up immediately. Movement had caught her eye. Someone had left the building. The woman was wearing the same multi-coloured scarf Leanne had seen on Karin in the Facebook photo. She was heading away from Leanne, towards the car park.

‘Shit,’ Leanne muttered under her breath.

‘Pardon?’

‘Sorry, Mrs Brody, I need to go,’ Leanne said, standing up and grabbing her things. ‘I’ll ring back to make arrangements to come over and see you, if that’s OK?’

Leanne cut the call while the old lady was halfway through her answer. She broke into run.

Karin’s hair was tucked beneath a mustard-coloured beret and she wore her scarf loosely so she could plunge her face deep into its folds right up to her nose. With her shoulders hunched, she looked as if she were expecting to be ambushed at any moment and her pace was brisk.

Leanne picked up speed, which wasn’t easy when running across the original cobblestone path that served the warehouses. She stumbled, caught her balance without stopping and, as she closed in, she heard the clunk of a car lock disengaging. Lights flashed on a blue Peugeot that looked as ancient as Leanne’s Fiesta. Karin had circled the car to reach the driver’s side and, as she turned, she spotted Leanne rushing towards her.

Still moving, Leanne opened her mouth to call out her name, but the sound of the ‘K’ caught at the back of her throat. There were blonde tresses peeking from beneath the beret. It wasn’t Karin she had been chasing. It was Beth.