‘What do you mean?’ Her hand flutters up from her throat towards her mouth, but I am not fooled. I know that this is Fran, the actress, in front of me now. Not Fran, the concerned mother, who kept all of us fooled. Not Fran, the betrayed wife. I know better now – I know she’s lied. I dig in my pocket, my fingers closing around the fabric of the sock, and I pull it out, laying it flat on the palm of my hand.

‘I found this, Fran. Hidden in the back of one of Laurel’s drawers. You can see by the grey dust on it that it was hidden somewhere else before that. My money is on somewhere in the church, you know, the church that gave you such comfort while Laurel was gone. You couldn’t risk leaving it there once you decided to leave Oxbury.’

Fran’s face turns a chalky white. ‘Anna, I can explain . . .’

‘Really, Fran?’ I shake my head. ‘How can you talk this one away? What did you do? Hide it until the police had searched the house again, and then put it back?’

‘Look, Anna, you don’t understand. You don’t know what it was like for me, living with Dominic, how much of a brute he was to me . . .’ Fat tears form in her eyes, but all I can think is crocodile tears. ‘You were in your room every evening, and he was so careful to hide the kind of person he really was . . .’

‘What happened to Laurel, Fran? What do you really know about what went on that night? Because I know things didn’t happen as you’d have all of us believe. I’ll admit, I believed Dominic was guilty for a while – there was too much evidence against him. You made sure of that. But then . . .’ I trail off, distracted by something that has caught my eye through the open door of the living room behind Fran. ‘Wait a second . . .’ I push past her, knocking her hard against the wall, barely registering the satisfying thud her head makes as she knocks it hard against the plaster. The heat of the small room makes sweat prickle on the back of my neck, the open fire roaring as it engulfs logs whole. I cross the room in two steps, my hands to my mouth as I realise that I really did see what I thought I did. I snatch up the item from the top of the bureau it rests on and turn to Fran.

‘She’s here, isn’t she? Laurel is here.’ And I squeeze the sparkly silver bobble hat tight between my fingers.

*

My ears roar as though I am underwater, the rushing filling my head and I think for a moment that I’m going to faint. Fran watches me from the doorway, without speaking.

‘She is here, isn’t she?’ I say again, my voice barely above a whisper.