Sasha drove past the abandoned, boarded-up leisure centres with their peeling pink stucco walls; past the Sea Life Centre and the Kursaal estate; the fish-and-chip and kebab shops; and all the new-build apartments with their big glassy windows facing the estuary. The air was thick with the sweet smell of burned sugar from the concession vans selling candy floss and doughnuts.

Usually, she’d turn up towards the station on Victoria Avenue, but this morning she was making a short stop further along the Western Esplanade.

Pulling up at a red light along Marine Parade – Southend pier, the longest in the world, stretched a mile out to sea ahead of her – she closed her eyes for a moment to enjoy the warmth on her face. As soon as the car stopped moving, the dry heat of the morning quickly began to envelop her. It was going to be another hot day, maybe the hottest yet. The arcades were already open and the din of music and electronic sounds, the rings and whooshes and whistles of hundreds of machines, rolled across the street.

Tapping her fingers on the wheel to ‘Back for Good’ on the radio, her phone rang on the seat beside her. Sasha turned down Magic and put the phone on speaker.

‘Sasha,’ said Vaughn. ‘Do you want me there?’

He meant the press conference with the Mannings, which was scheduled for eleven.

‘Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered.’

She recognized someone she knew walking past. It was the mum of Angel’s best friend, Tilly. Or, at least, her best friend until recently. Angel had other mates now, a whole group of noisy girls, her squad as she called them. Sasha didn’t like the new crowd much, they were loud and brash, and totally different from Tilly, who always seemed so sweet and placid. Sasha missed the days when Tilly and Angel were inseparable.

Sasha pressed on the horn, trying to get Tilly’s mum’s attention. She didn’t know her well, but she was a bubbly woman; they’d met socially a couple of times a year or so back in the day, had even spent an enjoyable night down the pub. For one frustrating moment, her name escaped Sasha. Rowena, Roberta…

‘Rachel!’ It popped into her head. ‘Hold on, Vaughn – Rachel!’

When Tilly’s mum looked in her direction, Sasha called, ‘Hi! How’s Tilly doing?’

But Rachel walked straight past. Sasha was certain they’d made eye contact, but she must have been mistaken.