Bish ended up in the cafeteria with Sadia and Katherine drinking bad coffee and eating almond biscuits made by Iqbal’s aunt.

‘Would it be possible to see Lola and Manoshi’s photos from the trip?’ he asked.

Sadia told him that Manoshi wasn’t allowed on social media yet. It meant that all her photos had been stored on her phone, which was destroyed in the blast.

Katherine retrieved her iPad. ‘Most of Lola’s are very silly, so I don’t think they’ll be much help.’ She logged into an Instagram account and showed Bish.

‘Don’t you think it’s strange that the French haven’t asked for them?’ she asked. ‘Or even British Intelligence?’

‘I’m presuming they don’t have to ask,’ Bish replied. ‘Not if they’re investigating a terrorist attack.’

‘We’ve been able to collect some photos of Astrid and Michael to send to their parents,’ Katherine said. ‘Not much of a consolation, but those kids were very happy.’

Bish flicked through the screen while the women chatted. ‘Katherine and I have set up a blog,’ Sadia told him. ‘It’s been such a big job keeping everyone up to date otherwise. Family, friends, the other children on the tour, their parents. We even get letters from people on the foreign buses who were at the campsite that day. Everyone is desperate to know how Manoshi and Lola and Fionn are coping.’

Looking at the photos, Bish was even more convinced that the kids on the Normandy tour had enjoyed it, regardless of what Lucy Gilies had implied. Lots of tongues in ears. Pouts. A few ‘Blue Steel’ Zoolander poses. Perhaps there may have been a touch of antagonism, hostility, indifference, but these shots showed a connection among the kids before the bomb went off.

‘Our readership has doubled in two days,’ Katherine said. ‘We get comments from people in Australia. They’re quite upset there about the treatment of Violette, apparently.’

‘Well, their government should have taken a strong stance earlier,’ Bish said.

‘Astrid Copely’s sister wrote a beautiful piece in her honour,’ Katherine said. ‘Of course we’d never ask her parents for anything, but teenagers are used to expressing their every thought on social media. She wrote about the fear she has that Astrid will be remembered as a tragedy, when she was such an annoying prankster.’

Katherine burst into tears. It took the others by surprise, and seemed to surprise Katherine even more.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry.’

Sadia took Katherine’s hand, squeezing it.

‘An aisle. That’s all it was,’ Katherine said. ‘This side of the aisle said our girls lived and the other side said their children died.’

‘There but for the grace of God. That’s what Fionn’s mother says.’ Sadia was nodding.

‘Then she’s visited him?’ Saffron asked.

Sadia made a clicking sound that said no. ‘She rings every day and we speak often. But she’s a recluse.’

‘They miss each other,’ Katherine said. ‘The doctors are doing everything to get Fionn well enough to transfer him up to Newcastle.’