The steward smiled. “I’ll check, madam.” Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Sophie doubling up with silent laughter. She looked slightly bemused as she walked away.

“California, here I come,” Sophie snorted.

“Just because I like some things about the place doesn’t make me a California girl,” Lindsay said with a scowl.

“Something to celebrate, ladies?” the returning steward asked, making conversation as she placed a half bottle in front of each of them. “And your juice,” she added, handing Lindsay a small pitcher.

Lindsay grinned. “Thanks,” she said. “Thank God we’re flying back with an American airline.” The steward moved away, leaving them to fill their glasses. Lindsay tipped a little orange juice into each glass and made a silent toast.

“I feel like we have something to celebrate,” Sophie said. “We made a good decision in Sheffield.”

Lindsay sipped her champagne thoughtfully. “My heart agrees with you, totally. But part of me feels like maybe I’m making too much of a habit of letting people walk away from murder.”

“But you don’t walk away from murder,” Sophie objected. “If indeed what happened to Union Jack was murder. That’s the whole point. There won’t be a day when Pauline doesn’t remember him going through that window, and her responsibility for it.”

Lindsay nodded. “I know all that. And I keep telling myself that justice wouldn’t be served by taking her away from her kid and locking her up in Holloway. Like you said, her punishment’s in her head. And it was an accident, probably. I just get this little nag at the back of my conscience, that’s all. And I start to worry a little about my judgement too.”

“What do you mean?”

Lindsay gave an embarrassed cough. “I know rather too many women who kill, don’t you think? It’s getting a bit beyond a joke.”

Sophie could think of nothing reassuring to say to that, so she took a step backwards in conversation. “Well, if your conscience is bothering you, console yourself with the thought that at least one of them is going to jail for a long time, even if it’s for a murder she didn’t commit.”

Lindsay gave a wicked grin. “Ironic, isn’t it? We couldn’t find enough evidence to nail her for the murder she did.”

“By the way, you owe me a bottle of Caol Ila.”

“You what?” Lindsay protested.

“You bet me a bottle of Islay malt of my choice that Laura was directly involved in Tom Jack’s death. And she wasn’t.” Sophie smirked irritatingly.

“But thanks to my mistaking Pauline for Laura, they’ve got more than enough evidence to put her away for Tom Jack’s murder, even if she didn’t do it. So she has become directly involved. So you owe me,” Lindsay said triumphantly.