‘I understand. Really. It’s fine.’ It’s not. It’s the beginning of everything going back to normal, of life carrying on exactly as it did before. It won’t be long before everyone forgets about Laurel and starts to move on. ‘I’m sorry for disturbing you.’ I walk away, towards the squat, cream building that is the community centre.

As I push open the door, I notice straight away that the number of volunteers has reduced by over half since the last time I was here. The quiet murmur of chatter lowers slightly as I step into the room, people glancing up, only to look away disinterestedly when they see it is only me, and not someone more exciting. Fran, maybe. I am halfway across the room, approaching the slightly bowed trestle table where Cheryl Smythe is still in full-on action, her arms laden with flyers, a biro clamped between her teeth, when I see the last person I was expecting to see – the one person I was hoping to see.

‘Anna!’ Ella steps forward, holding out her arms to me as she pulls me into a tight hug. I stand there rigidly, her hair tickling my nose, the smell of her perfume strangely familiar. ‘Is everything all right?’ She frowns as she pulls back, holding me at arm’s length.

‘I think we need to talk.’ Pushing my hair back, I look behind me, seeing the volunteers milling about the room, all ears open to our conversation. ‘Not here though.’ I push past her and head for the door, hearing the low heels on her boots clacking across the lino floor.

‘Anna, what is it?’ Once outside, I march her round the corner, away from prying eyes. ‘Did something happen?’ Her blue eyes are wide.

‘You could say that.’ Someone is lying. Someone is not who they say they are. Someone else. The psychic’s words float through my mind. ‘Is there anything you want to tell me?’

She pauses for a moment, then blinks. ‘Like what?’

‘Seriously? Are you actually going to do this? I know, Ella. Or should I call you Pamela, like Dominic does?’

Her face goes white and her mouth opens and closes for a moment, but no sound comes out. She covers her face with her hands, and I wait, silently, for her to respond.

‘I’m so sorry, Anna.’ Eventually she speaks, her hands dropping to her sides. ‘I wanted to tell you . . . I was going to tell you but then . . .’

‘I think you need to tell me everything, Ella. Pamela. Ugh.’ I scrub my hands over my face and let her follow me away from the community centre, towards the centre of town.

*