‘She’s not hurt.’ Margaret frowns. ‘Someone close to you is lying. Someone isn’t who they say they are.’

I pinch the back of my hand, to keep myself in the here and now, ignoring Kelly’s curious glance in my direction.

‘She’s . . . she knows the person who did this. Who took her.’ Margaret squeezes the tiger once more before she drops it to the floor, her eyes springing open and fixing on Dominic, where he stands behind Fran. ‘You know where she is.’

Fran gasps, tears spilling over as she presses one hand to her mouth. Dominic, however, springs into action.

‘Right, that’s it. Out.’ He grabs Margaret by her arm and hauls her to her feet, marching her towards the front door.

‘Dominic, wait!’ Kelly runs after him, presumably to stop him from physically throwing Margaret out on to the pavement. Fran sits, stock still, tears running down her cheeks.

‘Fran?’ I approach her tentatively, like you would a wild animal that has been hurt, unsure of the response I will get. ‘Are you OK?’

‘I didn’t think it would work,’ Fran says, ‘I didn’t think she would be able . . . Oh.’ She rubs a hand across her eyes. ‘She knows who did this to her . . . and we know where she is?’ She raises her red-rimmed eyes to mine. A pulse beats in her temple, a twitch under her pale skin. ‘Why would she say that? Oh, Anna, I feel sick.’ She holds her hand tight against her flat stomach.

‘I don’t know.’ I feel helpless, like I should know the right things to say, but I don’t. I didn’t last time either and look how that turned out. ‘Maybe she means you know the area where she is being kept? I’m sorry, Fran, I simply have no idea.’

Dominic comes crashing in then, his face a white mask of rage.

‘Are you happy, Fran? Now you’ve let some . . . charlatan in? She’ll probably go straight to the papers, telling them how we know something we’re not letting on.’ He shoves his hand through his hair, pacing the floor, anger coming off him in hot waves.

‘She’s not a charlatan, Dom, she could be telling the truth! Maybe . . .’ Fran’s voice breaks and she starts to sob, hiding her face in her hands as her shoulders hitch up and down dramatically.

‘And if she’s not? If she’s just used it to get inside the house so that she can sell a story to the papers? How is that going to help Laurel then? Turning the focus on to us instead of the person who really took Laurel? I can’t believe you did this.’ He keeps pacing, his footsteps heavy on the oak flooring. ‘Where did you even get her from?’