There was no reason to hang about at the Winter Gardens, so Lindsay slowly walked back to the Princess Alice to collect her bag. She wandered through to the bar and checked out their selection of whiskies. She ordered a large Glenfiddich, the only malt on offer, added a dribble of water to the pale liquid and took a small sip. As she took a cigarette from her packet, a hand snapped a flame into life in front of her. She looked up into the dark blue eyes of Shaz Morton, who was noted for managing the seemingly impossible, blending her job as a high-profile television company press officer with her role as a campaigning lesbian. Wherever Shaz went, controversy followed. So, usually, did her girlfriend, a polytechnic lecturer in women’s studies. But this week in Blackpool, Shaz was unaccompanied. Probably, Lindsay had decided, because her girlfriend knew how few opportunities Shaz would have to stray at a JU conference.

“I heard about Ian,” Shaz said, lighting Lindsay’s cigarette. “Not what you needed just now, right?”

“Right,” Lindsay agreed.

“Especially not after Frances.” Shaz took a deep drag of her own cigarette and ordered a large gin and tonic, and another malt for Lindsay.

“No thanks,” Lindsay started to say.

“You need it. I meant to speak to you earlier before about Frances, but you know how it is. I was really upset to hear about her death. She was very special,” Shaz said.

Lindsay looked surprised. “I didn’t know you knew her.”

Shaz smiled and topped her gin up with tonic. “We did some work together on a briefing pack for lesbian mothers involved in custody fights. It was a few years ago, long before she met you. We bumped into each other now and again, at meetings. I don’t know if anybody’s thought to mention this to you, but she was really happy with you.”

Lindsay’s throat closed in the familiar emotional uprising. One step away from tears, she forced a mouthful of whisky down, then sucked in the comfort of nicotine. “Thanks,” she finally managed to say. “I was really happy with her.”

Shaz nodded towards Lindsay’s bag. “What train are you catching? Fancy some company?”

“I’d like that. I don’t have a reservation, though. I expected to be going back in the car with Ian.” An involuntary shudder set her whisky swirling in her glass. She put the glass down with a bang. “I keep thinking how bloody awful it must be for Laura. I know they’d split up, and she treated him like shit, but they were together for years. You don’t just switch off your feelings for someone after all that time. No matter what’s happened between you.”