‘I don’t think he did that, Anna.’ Fran gets to her feet and I follow suit, relieved that we are finally leaving. Fran puffs out the candle, crosses herself, and we walk back up the aisle to the heavy oak doors where she stops for a moment. ‘I don’t just think he’s having an affair, Anna. I think there’s something else. I think he’s hiding something worse.’

As we walk back to the house, through the damp fog that has descended whilst we sat in the church, I toss Fran’s words over and over in my mind. Does she really think that Dominic is hiding something? It makes my stomach hurt to think about what she’s really saying. Does she think Dominic had something to do with Laurel’s disappearance? The hair on his jacket springs into my mind, my own suspicions rising to the surface, and my stomach does a somersault. Maybe I should tell Fran about it? But it could be from weeks ago. And if I’m really honest with myself – Dominic? He has his faults, but could he really do something this . . . awful? My mind bounces from one thought to the next and back again, my thoughts conflicting. I jump when Fran lays a hand on my arm at the bottom of the hill.

‘You won’t say anything to Dominic, will you? About what we’ve talked about this evening?’ she says, her eyes wide with something like fear.

‘No. Of course not. But maybe you should speak to Kelly . . .’

‘Maybe.’ Fran starts walking again, slowly this time, the fog leaving fine droplets in her hair. ‘When Laurel comes home, things will be better. With Laurel at home we can talk about things, I can make a decision about how we’re going to carry on.’ It’s almost as though she’s talking to herself. I stay silent, letting her speak. ‘I’ve missed her so much. I never realised how much it would hurt, how difficult it would be, until she wasn’t there every day. I hate myself for all the time I could have spent with her, instead of at the theatre, or all those auditions. Things will be very different when she’s back.’

‘I’m sure they will be.’ I don’t know what else to say – clearly Fran is clinging on tightly to the idea that Laurel will return. We reach the front path, and I step to one side to let Fran in first, catching a glimpse of someone loitering a little further down the street, watching us.

‘What is it? Anna?’ Fran turns back to me, a frown creasing her brow.