‘It was Ruth all along – she’s the one who painted MURDERER on the fence, she’s the one who sent all those abusive messages on the Facebook page. God, I feel like such an idiot.’ I scrub my hands over my face. ‘I saw the paint on your sleeve that day . . . but with everything that was going on, I just didn’t put two and two together. Why? Was it because Fran didn’t let you in that day, the day the psychic came?’

‘The Facebook user name . . .’ Fran says, clicking her fingers together, ‘Lois Burns. But . . . your name isn’t Lois? What is it – a middle name? Or did you pluck it out of thin air? And Burns . . . what’s that? Your maiden name?’ Her face changes as something clicks. ‘Oh my God, it is, isn’t it? You’re Ruth Burns, that weird girl from my drama course. I’m right, aren’t I?’

‘You can’t prove anything,’ Ruth says, but she picks anxiously at the skin around her fingernails, a tiny bead of blood welling up by her cuticle and making me feel sick.

‘I’m afraid we can.’ Kelly has kept silent so far, simply absorbing everything that is being revealed. ‘I’ve had someone tracing the IP address that the messages were sent from. I’m pretty sure we’re going to get a match on your address, aren’t we?’

‘I thought it was Pamela,’ I say, quietly. ‘In the interview room earlier, I told them that I thought Pamela had done it. Why, Ruth? Why would you pretend to be Fran’s friend, why would you come round here over and over? You kept on offering to help, pushing your way in even though you must have known you weren’t particularly welcome. And why send the messages? I really don’t understand.’ I risk a glance at Fran, who sits silently, her fingers tapping lightly on the table top, a sure sign that she is close to losing her temper.

‘I don’t even know you,’ Fran says tightly, ‘I don’t even know who your child is. We didn’t want you here, you pushed your way in with your casseroles and sympathy! You took advantage of the fact that we were vulnerable, and you used it to do something horrible. Anna is right – why would you do this?’

‘Exactly that reason,’ Ruth says, her voice strong, but her shaking hands show her bravery is all an act. ‘When I first heard you’d moved back here, I thought maybe I’d bump into you, but I never did. And then I heard that your daughter was starting at the primary school . . . I was still on the PTA even though Josephine had left a year before Laurel started.’

‘Ruth, I think maybe you should come with me,’ Kelly moves forward, but Fran holds up a hand to stop her.