‘Come on, hurry!’ she shouted to the traumatised theatregoers who had paused outside the fire doors to take their first gulps of fresh air. Most were adults, but there were children too. She wanted to help. She needed to be involved. If nothing else, it would ease her conscience later when she would be obliged to recount a convincing story of being there all along.

She was about to shout again when a little boy’s wails rose up into the mournful night. He was pointing to the burning theatre and calling out for Mrs Clarke. There were people trapped inside, and it looked like one of them was Sedgefield’s revered dance teacher.

Claudia had never been one of Hilary’s dance students, but she had wanted to be. Her dad could never afford the classes and, even if he had, he wouldn’t have wasted a rare Saturday morning off to take his daughter to dance school. She had envied her friends, but one by one they had dropped out when Claudia convinced them how uncool it was. Hilary must be in her seventies now. It was unthinkable that she wouldn’t make it out.

Blue flashes of light danced across the walls further along the alleyway. The emergency services had arrived. ‘Help’s on the way!’ Claudia yelled.

A woman grabbed hold of her sleeve to steady herself. ‘Thank God,’ she said. ‘People are dying in there. I could hear them calling out.’

Claudia stared at the handprint the woman left on her cream cashmere coat. It was the colour of rust. Blood.

Fear rose up through Claudia’s body, making her feel clammy, but she was angry too. She wished she had never become involved in the stupid renovation project, but she had become obsessed with impressing Phillipa. It was strange to think there had been a time when Claudia was envied by her peers, but marrying Justin had placed her in a different league. No matter how much he loved her, it didn’t soften the blow that she had gone from the very top to the very bottom, and when Phillipa had assigned her as mystery shopper for the only amateur performance, it had been a deliberate snub. Not attending had been an act of rebellion, but one Claudia had always intended to keep to herself.

Pressing her fingers against the stitch in her side, Claudia considered her options. She had only recently found out she was pregnant and shouldn’t take any chances, but could she walk away and say she had done enough? The answer scared her. No, she couldn’t.