After a restless night, she woke with a new determination. If the police weren’t going to help her get to the truth, she would have to sort things out herself. And the first thing she was going to do was visit Fiona. Surely I can appeal to her as a mother?

It was Monday, the first day back at school after half-term, and once she’d dropped Ezra at nursery, she drew up to Fiona’s house and rang the bell. Fiona’s husband, Maurice, answered the door, impeccably dressed in a Pringle jumper and golfing slacks, his silver hair slicked back from his forehead. He had the bearing of a man who had lived most of his life as the boss, the man in charge.

‘Hello, Sara. This is a surprise,’ he said with a worried frown. ‘I don’t think Fiona’s expecting you, is she?’

Sara held up the bouquet of flowers she’d bought on the way.

‘I wanted to apologise. If she’ll see me.’ She looked at the ground. ‘Of course, I’ll understand if she doesn’t want to.’

‘Well, if you’d like me to take the flowers, I’ll just go and ask her.’ Sara handed him the bouquet and Maurice started to close the door. ‘If you’d like to wait there a minute.’

She rocked back on her heels as the door shut in her face. She’d never been left standing on the doorstep before, and she stuffed her hands in her pockets as she waited. Finally she heard movement, and Maurice opened the door, waved her through into the hall.

‘She says to come in.’ He closed the door behind Sara, waited while she wiped her feet on the doormat before walking ahead of her. ‘She’s in the orangery.’

Sara followed him through the living room to the large glass-panelled room that stretched across the back of the house, giving a magnificent view over the roofs of the town and across the Wharfe Valley. Fiona was sitting like a queen on her throne with her leg up on a padded footstool, her arm resting on a cushion. She looked pale, and Sara hoped she was in a great deal of pain. She gave a sheepish smile, ready to play the part of sinner coming to beg forgiveness.

‘We need a little time alone,’ Fiona told Maurice with a dismissive wave, waiting for him to leave before she addressed Sara. ‘Well, I have to say I admire your nerve.’

‘I’m so sorry, Fiona. That was Hailey getting the police involved. I tried to persuade her not to, but you know she’s always been so protective of me, and… well, when she gets something in her head, there’s nothing I can do to stop her.’ She gave a heavy sigh, looked up at Fiona from under her lashes. ‘I’m assuming it’s all okay, though? No harm done?’