‘You speak to DS Wright,’ I say, already pulling on my jacket, ‘I’m going to go and find Pamela and ask her exactly what is going on. I can confront her – she lied to me, remember? Oh Fran, please don’t cry.’

I stand there awkwardly unsure of what to do, how to comfort her, the ghost of the old, spiky, prickly Fran still standing between us. The ring of the doorbell saves me from my indecision and I hurry to open the door, thinking it will be Kelly only to see Ruth on the doorstep.

‘Ruth. Hello.’ My hearts sinks a little at the sight of her on the doorstep, once again. At least she doesn’t have a casserole with her this time.

‘Nice to see you, Anna. Is Fran home? Only I wondered if she’d had a chance to look at those posters I made, or if she needed any cleaning doing, any errands running or . . .’ She peers past me, looking over my shoulder into the hallway.

‘She’s . . .’ I pause for a moment, thinking that if Ruth is so insistent on being here then maybe I can use her for my own means, just this once. ‘Listen, can you stay for a minute?’ I pull her inside quickly before anyone sees and push her through into the kitchen.

‘Well, of course I can stay. I’ve been telling you since the day Laurel disappeared that I’m happy to help in any way I can, any way at all . . . Oh, no. What’s happened?’ Ruth trails off, her hand to her mouth as she looks at Fran slumped crying over the kitchen table. ‘Oh, is it Laurel? Did they . . . did they find her?’

‘No,’ I say, shortly. ‘Look, can you look after her for a bit?’ I gesture to Fran who still sniffs and snuffles into her arms. ‘I have to go out for a little while. I need someone to keep an eye on Fran, until Kelly arrives.’ I jump as the front door slams and Dominic’s outline passes the front window before I hear the beep of his car unlocking.

‘Was that . . .?’ Ruth points to the window, her coat sleeve falling back along her wrist.

‘Yes. He’s back to work,’ I say, frowning. Something has caught in the back of my mind, something that doesn’t feel right, but I can’t put my finger on it. ‘Look, can you stay for a bit until the FLO gets here or not?’

‘Of course I can,’ Ruth says, leaning down and rubbing Fran’s back. I see Fran’s shoulders tense and take a step backwards towards the front door. ‘I’ll make us a nice cup of tea, Fran, shall I?’

‘I won’t be long, OK?’ I almost sprint out of the front door, turning left towards the library. I’m going to get to Pamela before she gets a chance to arrange her story for DS Wright.

CHAPTER 18