‘You?’ Jess lets out a tiny huff. ‘No. Don’t be silly. This wasn’t your fault.’ She squeezes my fingers lightly again, but she doesn’t meet my eyes.

The reconstruction airs later in the week, and we all huddle in the living room to watch it. The air is thick with tension as the opening credits roll, and as Dove appears on the screen with the presenter, saliva spurts into my mouth. I jump to my feet, rushing to the downstairs loo, convinced I am about to be sick, but nothing comes up. My stomach just heaves and rolls, as I spit into the toilet. Rocking back on to my heels, I wipe my mouth with a shaking hand, before rising to my feet. I splash cold water over my face, rinse my mouth out and wipe away the mascara that has bled beneath my eyes, before heading back into the living room.

‘Are you all right?’ Kelly whispers to me as I slide onto the sofa next to her.

‘Yes.’ I nod, wiping at my mouth again. ‘I’m nervous, I don’t know why. Reliving the whole thing . . .’ I whisper, shaking my head. ‘I’m sorry.’

She gives me a reassuring smile, and I glance across the room at the Jessops. They occupy two separate armchairs, Fran curled into one, while Dominic sits, straight-backed and grim-faced, in the other, both of them with eyes trained on the television screen. Dove finishes speaking and the scene changes to the field and the bonfire. My heart starts to thunder in my chest.

We see Laurel, skipping into the field ahead of ‘me’, the pair of us meeting up with Fran. Tears spring to my eyes as we watch Laurel bounce away across the mud, running after Fran who keeps walking, not even realising that Laurel is chasing along after her. The camera cuts back to ‘me’, a woman who looks a little like me – close enough to jog people’s memories, but not close enough to remind people from the past, I hope – as she turns back to watch the fireworks overhead, thinking that everything is OK.

We cut back to the studio, where Dove still sits, manspreading across the couch, leaning on his knees as the presenter starts to question him.

‘Someone knows where Laurel is,’ he states firmly, ‘someone saw what happened to that little girl that night, and it is incredibly important that if you saw something, or if you even think that you might have seen something, you need to come forward.’

Fran gives a strangled sob, and before anyone can stop her she rushes from the room. Dominic gets to his feet and switches off the television.

‘I’ll go and make sure she’s OK.’ Kelly gets up, and then I hear her feet as she turns down the hallway, the clunk of the back door as it closes behind her. Dominic turns to me.