In fact, maybe she had done her a favour, Rosie reasoned when later that day she made her way back to Norwich. Jill had no idea of the danger she had been in and in death she had looked so peaceful.

Mrs W was still coming for the rest of them. If only they could all escape.

That idea had stayed with her, though of course she had no plan to act on it. Then Lauren had hired her private investigator, ready to confront Mrs W and Bill.

Hannah had told her not to go to Lauren’s, but Rosie was worried. Lauren had no idea of the danger she was putting them all in. She needed to be stopped.

Rosie was down in London for her audition and Sevenoaks wasn’t far. She would go and see Lauren, try to reason with her. She went prepared, just in case, her dealer handing over the bag of ketamine, no questions asked. It was easy to buy anything if you had money.

Rosie had tried to talk her round, but Lauren was dead set on doing things her way, so there had been no other choice. She had barely been conscious when Rosie put the pillow over her face.

She would have shown the same kindness to Tash, but Sam had unexpectedly come home, and Rosie had been forced to ditch her plan. Tash had her girlfriend and Rosie trusted Sam to look after her.

The decision to help Hannah was the easiest one Rosie had made. Bill’s attack had changed things and now she understood how vulnerable Hannah was. Rosie couldn’t go on without her, so they would go to sleep together. She would plan the best day for Hannah, involving all of her favourite things, then slip the drug into their wine. Hannah’s first, so Rosie could make sure she was comfortable in bed. She didn’t want her friend to suffer when the flat started to burn.

She had fucked up though, as Hannah had woken up. Rosie obviously hadn’t given her enough and now it was too late. Holding Hannah tightly, and fighting her own fatigue, she whispered that it would be okay and prayed it would soon be over.

The room was getting hotter, the air making her choke. Hannah tried again to sit up. They had to get out. She had to find Tank.

She struggled to lift her head, saw smoke billowing around the door frame, could hear flames the other side, and panic skittered through her. She was really awake now, though everything was still blurry and distorted, her limbs too heavy.

Rosie clung to her, seeming unbothered by the fire. She started to cry.

‘I’m sorry… you wouldn’t wake.’ Her voice was really slurry. ‘Sleep… be easier.’

‘What have you done?’

Had she drugged them both?

Why?

And had she set the fire?

It seemed implausible. Rosie was her best friend. Why would she do this?