‘We were talking about Declan Gallagher. She seemed to think he was involved with someone, and since the rumours haven’t hit the ears of the press, I’m guessing it’s because your peers have closed ranks.’ She left a pause to give Claudia time to close her gaping mouth. ‘Which can only mean it must involve one of you, and now you’re such good friends with Bryony, I imagine you know who she was talking about.’

Playing with the collar on her jacket, Claudia said, ‘Yes, I’d heard the rumours, but it’s not something I care to repeat. The truth is, I don’t like to engage in that kind of gossip and I don’t believe in kicking someone when they’re down. Now, if you’ll excuse me.’

Claudia was going to have to walk straight through Leanne if she wanted to escape, because Leanne wasn’t budging, not now. ‘What do you mean “kick someone when they’re down”?’ She stopped to consider her own question and the chuckle that tickled her throat was coated in wickedness. ‘Are we talking about Phillipa? Declan Gallagher was having an affair with his boss?’

‘Technically, she wasn’t his boss,’ Claudia hit back. ‘I’m sorry, Leanne, I thought the Courier was better than this. Their private lives are no one else’s business, and I won’t say another word. I really do have to go.’

Leanne should get moving too but, unlike Claudia, who raced out of the hotel at lightning speed, Leanne slowed down when she reached reception. She had tried to ignore the smell of essential oils leaching out of the spa on her arrival, but she could no longer hold back the bitter-sweet memories they evoked. Lois had treated her brokenhearted friend to a blissful day of beauty treatments soon after her arrival in Sedgefield. Lois had loved everything about this hotel and had had dreams of marrying Joe here.

Plunging into the storm, the shock of rain washed away the warm memories, and Leanne was left bitterly cold. She glanced around the car park. Joe could have worked out where she would be, but there was no sign of him. Had he given up on her? She hoped so.

There was one familiar car she recognised as the headlights of a white Mercedes cut through the murk. Claudia was behind the wheel, but her car didn’t slow, and Leanne was getting too wet to pay it much heed. She used her rucksack as an unwieldy umbrella and was crisscrossing the car park when another car passed in front of her. Leanne stopped in her tracks and stared at the receding taillights, oblivious to the puddle she had stepped in. Raindrops dripped down the inside of her jacket collar and a shudder ran down the length of her spine. Phillipa was supposed to be in France. She was supposed to stay away. The bitch was back.

The Empress Theatre