Prior to the theatre’s restoration, Sedgefield’s main thoroughfare was a mix of historic architecture overlaid with new-age branding, but unlike many high streets in this day and age, ours thrived. Unfortunately, this wasn’t good enough for the upper echelons of our society. They found the discount stores and betting shops a juxtaposition to the artisan bakeries, boutiques and bistros. A Greggs’ sausage roll might fill the gap if you’re on a tight budget, but God forbid the smell of flaky pastry should overpower the delicate aroma of bruised basil and hand-picked coffee beans. Something had to give, and it was no surprise that middle-aged socialite Phillipa Montgomery would be the one to grasp an opportunity.

When Phillipa tabled her proposal to restore the Empress Theatre, she claimed it would make the town a magnet for investment. Reading between the lines, she meant it would increase the headcount of millionaires and local celebrities to rival that of Alderley Edge, and the best the rest of us could hope for was that they would be good tippers.

And Phillipa didn’t just want a fancy theatre, she wanted it now. Impatience and a budget that prioritised style over substance evidently led to shortcuts, and those shortcuts would prove fatal. The exclusive function rooms on the first floor hadn’t been completed in time for the reopening and, tellingly, the project hadn’t been signed off at the time of the fire. But still, the show must go on.

On the face of it, the grand opening was a blistering success, although very few of Sedgefield’s townspeople could attest to this fact, given that the celebrity-packed variety show had been priced beyond their means. Phillipa responded to accusations of elitism by inviting the local dance school to put on a mid-week run, and all three nights of Hilary Clarke’s adaptation of Alice in Wonderland had sold out in days.

When the show had opened on the evening of 21st October, the house had been packed, and it should have been cheers that filled the rafters instead of smoke. I’m certain that the performers would have received a standing ovation, but the curtain had come down after only half an hour, and it was the show’s originator who took her final bow. Hilary was counted amongst the twelve fatalities that night, although arguably there were only eleven victims.

The body of Declan Gallagher, employed by Ronson Construction as site supervisor for the restoration, was found amongst the smouldering rubble close to his seriously injured sister, who would remain in hospital for weeks. A tragedy for the family perhaps, but also a conundrum. What was Declan doing there?