It took a fraction of a second for Mal to register the name. His face turned puce. ‘And why the hell were you speaking to her?’

‘She’s Karin Gallagher’s partner, and I thought she might have a story too. The fire took its toll on them both, Mal. Beth feels guilty about leaving Karin for dead amongst the ruins.’

‘Bollocks,’ Mal said. ‘Keep away from them.’

‘They don’t want to speak to me anyway.’

‘Was it something you said?’ Mal guessed. ‘You do realise you’ve probably lost any chance we had of getting a quote from them once the findings of the public inquiry are known? You need to sort yourself out, Leanne. Maybe you should take a break, go home to your family and recharge your batteries.’

It was a tempting offer, but Leanne couldn’t leave now, not before the anniversary, and not while there was unfinished business. ‘What about Claudia?’

‘I could speak to her,’ Frankie said, but without enthusiasm. This was Leanne’s story.

‘If Claudia does have more to tell and is choosing not to come forward,’ Leanne said, ‘I’m the best chance we have of prising another confession out of her.’

All eyes were on Mal. He couldn’t send Leanne away and have his headline for next week’s issue. ‘Fine,’ he said at last. ‘Leanne can do it. As long as she remains focused.’

‘Not a problem,’ Leanne said in a tone that didn’t convince either of them.

The Empress Theatre

Sedgefield, Cheshire

As Leanne walked down the jetty, she could see a red glow in the sky, but she was more interested in the light coming from inside the boat. She wondered if Lois had decided against going to the theatre after all. They needed to have a serious talk, and the sooner the better, which was why Leanne had stopped off at the petrol station to pick up a box of Ferrero Rocher and a bottle of wine. She was ready to say sorry and admit she was in the wrong.

Closing the hatch, she noticed the paintings on the back of the doors. Lois had been working on her fish again, but when Leanne called out her friend’s name, it echoed through the empty boat. Damp paintbrushes were resting on the drainer and, as Leanne picked one up, she felt a lump in her throat. She didn’t often give in to the urge to cry, but tears pricked her eyes.

Ever hopeful, Leanne checked her phone in case Lois had sent a message since their argument. Nothing. She checked Instagram next to see if she had posted photos of the ballet. Leanne’s timeline was filled with images of a roof engulfed in flames.