When Phillipa’s body stiffened, it had the effect of straightening her posture. She wasn’t as broken as she would have Leanne believe. ‘I know what part I played, and if the investigation finds me wanting, I’ll accept the consequences.’ She tilted her head when she added, ‘But where I can defend myself, I will. I have no idea what Declan was doing in the theatre.’

‘He wasn’t with you?’

‘I was at a dinner party, as has been widely reported and can be corroborated by a dozen people.’

‘But you did spend time with Declan. The two of you made quite a pair,’ Leanne said, shifting to the left as Phillipa went to pass her.

‘This is nonsense.’

As Phillipa attempted to shove Leanne out of the way, Leanne gripped her arm. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘If you seriously think you can hurt me more than I’m hurting already, do your worst,’ Phillipa whispered in her ear.

Tired of their little dance, Leanne let her go and Phillipa was about to stride away, but stopped. Something was happening onstage that made her glance back. Leanne turned too. There was a young girl beneath the spotlight, a sheet of paper in her hand. Her nose twitched like a bunny rabbit. It was little Evie, the last performer to grace the stage of the Empress Theatre.

‘This is the poem I wrote for Mrs Clarke and everyone else who died in the fire,’ Evie said, reading from her script.

The microphone picked up the sound as she cleared her throat. She took a breath. The crowd did the same.

‘If I could go to heaven, I’d dance my way to you. I’d make each step a happy step, cos I’d be closer too. I’d smile my biggest smile and tell you what you’ve missed. I’d ask you if you were watching us and if you were im— impressed. And when it was time to go, I know I would not cry, because if I could go to heaven, I’d – I’d bring you down from the sky.’

Leanne felt a lump in her throat despite telling herself it was sentimental mush, and it was about to get harder. Claudia had reappeared. She took Evie’s hand and announced the start of the two minutes’ silence. It was 8.06 p.m.; the time the show had been brought to a stop by the sound of the alarm.