‘Why would I want to see it?’ she cried, pacing the living room floor at home, Bom discarded on the sofa as she marched backwards and forwards. ‘Why would I want to relive that?’ Dominic had also not been keen at first, before changing his mind abruptly, with no explanation. And that was how I find myself, shivering despite the layers of clothes I wear, watching one of the worst nights of my life being re-enacted. Jess inches closer to me and links her fingers in mine, giving my hand a tight squeeze as we watch the woman portraying me walk towards the BBQ stand, fake fear etched on to her features.

‘Does Claire know you’re here?’ I whisper to her, conscious of the cameras around the field. I am anxious that I will do something, say something that will put the actors off and we’ll have to start this whole painful process over again.

‘I got the night off,’ Jess says, ‘she thinks I’ve gone for a drink with Mike.’ Jess’s on/off boyfriend.

‘What does she think about everything?’ I have to ask.

People have been very careful not to say anything to any of us, nothing that gives away what they really think or feel as they stand on the doorstep handing over Pyrex dishes of pre-cooked food and empty platitudes. I am intrigued to know what Claire’s views are, given that she is a ‘friend’ of Fran’s but we haven’t heard from her at all, except to see her at the search hub in the school hall. The only person who has called at the house regularly is Ruth, and I have been accepting her offerings on the doorstep in an attempt to protect Fran from having to see people she doesn’t know. It’s as though people are too frightened to get too close, in case something about Laurel’s disappearance rubs off on them. And I can’t shake off the image of that woman behind me in the hall, whispering to her friend about how Fran still managed to put on make-up.

‘Well, she’s devastated for Fran, obviously,’ Jess says, cautiously. ‘I mean, we all are. She’s keeping a tight hold on Daisy at the moment too. The whole thing has shaken the entire community up. The very idea that something this awful could happen here, of all places, has got people frightened.’

‘Are people blaming me?’ Finally, I pluck up the courage to ask the question, that nervous, sick feeling bubbling up again in my stomach. I was ostracised in Killin, in Scotland, following what happened, fingers pointing at me wherever I went. I couldn’t bear it if it happened again, here, not after all I’ve done to try and put the past behind me.